The seizure of the Skipper has been presented by U.S. authorities as a routine enforcement action grounded in well-established principles of maritime law, particularly the right of visit exercised against vessels suspected of statelessness. At first glance, the operation appears to fit within recognised legal exceptions that permit boarding on the high seas. However, a closer examination reveals a far more troubling legal trajectory.
This analysis argues that while the initial boarding of the Skipper may be defensible under a narrow interpretation of the right of visit, the subsequent seizure, diversion, and forfeiture of the vessel mark a significant overreach that stretches international maritime law beyond its intended limits. By converting a conditional inspection power into a basis for asserting domestic criminal jurisdiction, the operation blurs the boundary between lawful enforcement and coercive projection of power.
The Skipper case thus serves as a cautionary example of how exceptional doctrines—when untethered from strict evidentiary and procedural constraints—can be incrementally expanded into tools of strategic enforcement. The legal issue at stake is not whether maritime law permits intervention in exceptional circumstances, but whether such interventions can be transformed into mechanisms of de facto jurisdiction without eroding the normative foundations of the law of the sea itself.
According to reports, the operation was executed with surgical precision; agents from the US Coast Guard, the FBI, and Homeland Security Investigations (HSI) conducted a ‘fast-rope’ insertion from a US Navy helicopter onto the vessel. The tanker, purportedly laden with approximately 1.6 million barrels of Venezuelan crude, was subsequently seized, placed under US custody, and subjected to forfeiture proceedings. The fact that this intervention targeted a vessel reportedly flying the flag of Guyana and occurred within international waters rendered the legal character of the operation particularly precarious.
In justifying the seizure, Washington has articulated a multifaceted rationale. US authorities assert that the vessel has long been under regulatory surveillance for its alleged involvement in the illicit transport of Iranian petroleum. Attorney General Pam Bondi clarified that the legal mandate for the operation rested on an ‘enforcement warrant’ issued under sanctions targeting the Venezuelan and Iranian energy sectors. It is alleged that the vessel—formerly registered as the Adisa—was specifically designated for sanctions in November 2022. The official narrative maintains that the Skipper was an integral node in a ‘clandestine petroleum network’ providing material support to foreign terrorist organisations.
Furthermore, Secretary of Homeland Security Kristi Noem framed the seizure within the broader context of the ‘War on Drugs’. The operation was presented as a presidential directive to ‘repel regimes’ that systematically facilitate the flow of narcotics into American society. Thus, the seizure was characterised not only as regulatory enforcement of sanctions but also as a security-driven, coercive measure aimed at countering transboundary criminal activity.
However, these dual justifications—the enforcement of unilateral sanctions and the anti-narcotics narrative—rely exclusively on domestic American statutory authority. From an international law perspective, the pivotal question is whether such domestic mandates can authorise the seizure of a foreign-flagged vessel on the high seas unilaterally.
The principle of sovereign equality dictates that a state may not, as a general rule, invoke its domestic law to impose coercive measures upon other sovereign entities or their vessels. Since the US sanctions against Venezuela lack the imprimatur of the United Nations Security Council, they do not possess erga omnes -binding on all authorities. While often described as ‘international sanctions’ in political discourse, these measures are properly categorised as ‘unilateral coercive measures’, which are frequently criticised for their incongruity with the United Nations Charter. Thus, an alleged violation of US domestic sanctions does not, in itself, constitute a valid legal basis for interdiction under international law.
Similarly, invoking the ‘War on Drugs’ provides a tenuous legal foundation. While the suppression of narcotics is a legitimate global objective, it does not grant states unfettered or unilateral jurisdiction on the high seas. Under the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS), interference with a foreign vessel is permissible only under strictly defined exceptions—such as the consent of the flag state, piracy, or a specific Security Council mandate. In the absence of such conditions, the rhetoric of drug interdiction cannot serve as an automatic legal exception to the doctrine of flag-state jurisdiction.
Ultimately, by anchoring the seizure of the Skipper in domestic policy and unilateral sanctions, the United States has failed to provide a compelling legal basis recognised by the international community.
Nevertheless, to provide a comprehensive legal appraisal, one must also examine whether Washington’s claims—explicit or implicit—can be reconciled with broader international norms.
The Doctrine of Statelessness and the Right of Visit
Statelessness occupies a uniquely fragile position in the law of the sea. While it enables limited enforcement action where no flag state can be identified, it also represents one of the most vulnerable entry points for abuse. Determinations of statelessness are often made under conditions of informational asymmetry, time pressure, and political motivation. For this reason, international law treats statelessness as a narrowly circumscribed exception requiring strict evidentiary standards and procedural restraint.
These factors are paramount for discerning the legal character of the Skipper incident. The cornerstone of maritime stability remains the principle of exclusive flag-state jurisdiction. Codified in both customary international law and the 1982 UNCLOS, this doctrine dictates that a vessel on the high seas is subject solely to the authority of the state whose flag it flies.
However, this principle is not absolute. A significant exception arises when a vessel is deemed “stateless”—effectively forfeiting the shield of flag-state protection. A vessel is classified as stateless if it is not validly registered with any state, if it utilises multiple flags for convenience or through fraudulent documentation, or if it flies a flag without legal entitlement. In such instances, international law deems it legitimate for a warship or a duly authorised government vessel to intervene—specifically, to board the vessel and verify its credentials.
Indeed, under Article 110 of the UNCLOS, a warship encountering a vessel on the high seas is granted the “right of visit” (jus visitationis) if there are reasonable grounds to suspect the vessel is stateless. The concept of a “false flag” refers to the fraudulent use of a national ensign to conceal a vessel’s identity, evade regulatory oversight, or facilitate illicit activities such as sanctions circumvention and trafficking. Under Article 92 of the UNCLOS, such vessels are effectively assimilated to ships without nationality, thereby losing their immunity from foreign interference.
When the Skipper incident is examined within this framework, it is observed that the vessel was flying the flag of Guyana at the time of its interdiction. However, Guyanese authorities subsequently clarified that they had been notified by Washington and had confirmed that the vessel was employing a “false flag”. The Maritime Administration of Guyana stated that the vessel was not on their registry, possessed no claim to Guyanese nationality, and that this discrepancy had previously been reported to the International Maritime Organisation (IMO). These declarations suggest that the Skipper had rendered itself legally stateless by virtue of its fraudulent representation.
Nevertheless, it must be emphasised that statelessness does not grant carte blanche for unlimited intervention. The lawful exercise of the right of visit is contingent upon three cumulative conditions: the right-enforcing unit, the right place, and the right trigger.
In conclusion, based on current evidence, it may be argued that the initial intervention against the Skipper falls within the narrow confines of the “right of visit” and is thus legally defensible under international maritime law. However, this conditional legality of boarding does not extend automatically to seizure or forfeiture.
The Question of ‘Follow-on Jurisdiction’
Even if one concedes that the initial interdiction and boarding of the Skipper were permissible under the auspices of the “right of visit”—specifically grounded in the allegation of statelessness—a more formidable legal question arises: to what extent does this right confer subsequent jurisdictional authority? Within the architecture of international maritime law, there exists no automatic or unfettered link between the right to visit a vessel and the competence to exercise full adjudicative or executive jurisdiction over its cargo and crew.
It must be underscored that where a vessel is boarded on suspicion of statelessness, the boundaries of so-called “follow-on jurisdiction” are far less codified than the right of visit itself. This normative vacuum has historically given rise to divergent state practices and conflicting interpretations of sovereign reach.
Under Article 110 of the UNCLOS, the procedural trajectory following a boarding based on suspicions of piracy, the slave trade, or unauthorised broadcasting is relatively well-defined. In cases of piracy, for instance, international law explicitly recognises ‘universal jurisdiction’, permitting the seizing state to arrest the perpetrators and adjudicate the matter. Similarly, in instances of slave trading, while the immediate priority is the liberation of the enslaved, the penal jurisdiction typically reverts to the flag state or the national states of the offenders.
Furthermore, in the event of a “flag visit”—where a warship boards a vessel suspected of sharing its own nationality—the confirmation of such nationality simply restores ordinary jurisdictional rules. If the suspicion proves unfounded, the warship must depart without exercising further authority.
Conversely, the UNCLOS offers no definitive roadmap regarding the forfeiture of a vessel or its cargo when the sole justification for the intervention is statelessness. Unlike the aforementioned crimes, there is no uniform international consensus that statelessness, per se, empowers the intervening state to apply its domestic penal code, judicial decrees, or sanctions regimes to the intercepted entity.
While some proponents of a more expansive jurisdictional view argue that a stateless vessel exists in a legal vacuum that the intervening state may legitimately fill, this perspective is difficult to reconcile with the prevailing tenets of general international law. The transition from a technical verification of nationality to the wholesale execution of domestic forfeiture warrants represents a significant, and legally dubious, jurisdictional leap.
In the case of the Skipper, Washington’s transformation of a limited right of visit into an expansive enforcement of domestic sanctions creates a precarious precedent. The political rhetoric surrounding the operation—typified by President Donald Trump’s characterisation of the cargo as “petrol stolen from the US” and his framing of the seizure as a tool for “economic strangulation” and “regime change”—reinforces the perception that the legal justification is a mere veneer for geopolitical objectives. Similarly, recent CIA admission of drone striker earlier this month on a port facility on Venezuelan coast strengthen these.
Recent reports suggesting that the Trump administration intends to institutionalise such seizures against the “shadow fleet” as a systematic instrument of pressure against the Maduro government further validate this concern. This strategy suggests a move towards the de facto globalisation of unilateral sanctions, achieved through the instrumentalisation of maritime law.
Hence, while the initial boarding of the Skipper may find limited legitimacy under the doctrine of statelessness, the subsequent seizure of the vessel and its 1.6 million barrels of oil cannot be justified within the current normative structure of international maritime law. Rather than a standard exercise of legal enforcement, the action stands as an exercise of hegemonic power that stretches the boundaries of international law to serve purely political ends.
Piracy or an Act of Aggression?
On the other hand, the seizure of the oil tanker Skipper raises significant legal questions not only under international maritime law but also under the United Nations Charter’s regime on the use of force.
Some experts asserted that the interception and seizure of the Skipper by US military assets amounted to piracy. However, this argument finds little support in the positive norms of international maritime law. Article 101 of the UNCLOS defines piracy as acts of violence, detention, or depredation committed “for private ends” by the crew or passengers of a private ship or aircraft. By definition, therefore, acts carried out by warships or other vessels acting under the authority of a state fall outside the scope of piracy. Accordingly, an operation conducted by units of the United States Navy cannot be legally characterised as piracy under international law.
A more serious and normatively robust line of inquiry, however, concerns whether the seizure constitutes a violation of sovereignty or an unlawful use of force, potentially amounting to an act of aggression. Article 2(4) of the UN Charter establishes a comprehensive prohibition on both the threat and use of force, subject only to two narrowly defined exceptions: the exercise of self-defence following an armed attack under Article 51, and action authorised by the Security Council. Approaches characterising the seizure of the Skipper as an act of aggression emphasise that neither exception appears applicable in the present case, particularly given that the United States was not engaged in an armed conflict with Venezuela.
In this regard, United Nations General Assembly Resolution 3314, later reflected in the Rome Statute of the International Criminal Court, defines aggression as “the use of armed force by a State against the sovereignty, territorial integrity or political independence of another State in a manner inconsistent with the Charter of the United Nations.” On this basis, it has been argued that the seizure of the Skipper by US armed forces constitutes an unlawful use of force in breach of the Charter and should therefore be regarded as an act of aggression.
Nevertheless, this interpretation is countered by a compelling legal argument. As discussed above, if the US intervention was carried out pursuant to the right of visit recognised under international maritime law, on the basis that the vessel was allegedly stateless, the operation may be understood not as an unlawful use of force but as the exercise of a limited and specifically defined legal competence. In such circumstances, the action would fall outside the scope of the prohibition on the use of force and could not be persuasively characterised as an act of aggression.
It should also be noted that some claims suggest that the seizure occurred not on the high seas but within Venezuela’s territorial waters. While this assertion has not been conclusively established, even if accepted hypothetically, it would not, by itself, amount to an act of aggression. Although violations of sovereignty may, under certain conditions, constitute internationally wrongful acts, not every sovereignty breach reaches the threshold for qualifying as aggression. The crime of aggression demands a particular level of gravity and scale.
The object and purpose of the UN Charter are to encourage the peaceful and diplomatic settlement of disputes and to minimise the risk of military confrontation between states. Interpreting an isolated and limited maritime operation—even if conducted within territorial waters—as an act of aggression would unduly lower the legal threshold for aggression and risk undermining the stability of the international legal order. In such a scenario, Venezuela could plausibly invoke state responsibility under the Articles on Responsibility of States for Internationally Wrongful Acts (ARSIWA) on the grounds of a sovereignty violation. However, characterising the incident as an act of aggression would represent an excessively expansive interpretation that is difficult to reconcile with existing international practice.
In conclusion, the seizure of the Skipper cannot be characterised as piracy, nor, on the basis of the information currently available, does it convincingly meet the high threshold required to qualify as an act of aggression. The more pertinent legal question is not merely whether the intervention fell within the formal limits of legality, but rather to what extent exceptional powers recognised under international law are being stretched and instrumentalised in pursuit of broader political objectives.
Regime Change?
The final, and perhaps most sensitive, dimension of the Skipper seizure concerns whether such an action constitutes an unlawful act in the context of “forcible regime change.” Within the architecture of modern international law, attempts by a state to alter another state’s political order through coercion are among the most egregious violations of foundational norms.
The doctrine of “regime change,” especially when carried out by force or coercive intervention, stands in direct contravention of the principles of sovereign equality and non-intervention. The normative foundations of this prohibition are unequivocal. Article 2(4) of the UN Charter strictly forbids the use of force, or even the threat thereof, against the political independence of any state. Since operations aimed at regime change are designed to dismantle the political autonomy of a target state, they are inherently viewed as a breach of this provision.
Furthermore, Article 2(7) of the Charter safeguards the domaine réservé—the domestic jurisdiction of states—prohibiting even the United Nations from intervening in matters essentially within that sphere. The determination of a nation’s government and its leadership is a fundamental expression of the right to self-determination, rendering it immune to external dictation. This stance was further solidified by the 1970 Friendly Relations Declaration, which underscores that no state has the right to intervene to alter another’s political, economic, or cultural system. Similar prohibitions are reflected in the Charter of the Organisation of American States, rendering regime-change attempts unlawful at the regional level.
When evaluated through this lens, the rhetoric of the Trump administration assumes profound legal significance. President Donald Trump and senior officials have explicitly delegitimised the government of Nicolás Maduro, openly advocating for a transition of power. Measures such as the seizure of oil tankers are widely perceived as instruments of “economic asphyxiation” intended to diminish the regime’s strategic viability.
Nonetheless, under current international jurisprudence, it remains difficult to argue that the seizure of the Skipper has reached the threshold for classification as “forcible regime change.” The legal definition of such an act requires more than mere political intent or provocative rhetoric; it demands the actual deployment of coercive force—typically through military intervention or occupation—to effectuate that intent. While the interception of tankers provokes serious legal debate, it does not, in isolation, constitute a direct military assault or an attempt to forcibly overthrow a government.
Consequently, while the Trump administration’s policies undeniably harbour an agenda of regime change, categorising the Skipper incident as a “forcible regime change attempt” in the strict legal sense would be an overextended interpretation at this juncture. However, the systematic nature of these interventions—where economic coercion is increasingly enforced by naval power—creates a perilous precedent. It signals a gradual erosion of the boundaries between regulatory enforcement and prohibited intervention.
Conclusion
The Skipper case illustrates not a dramatic rupture in international law, but something arguably more consequential: the quiet expansion of exceptional doctrines into routine instruments of enforcement. Each step in isolation (the boarding, the inspection, the initial detention) can be framed as legally arguable. Taken together, however, they reveal a pattern in which narrowly defined maritime exceptions are leveraged to justify outcomes that international law was designed to prevent.
When conditional powers such as the right of visit or determinations of statelessness are repeatedly stretched to sustain domestic jurisdictional claims, the normative balance of the law of the sea shifts. What was intended as a safeguard against lawlessness risks becoming a vehicle for its selective redefinition.
The significance of the Skipper seizure, therefore, extends well beyond the fate of a single vessel. It raises a fundamental question about the future of maritime order: whether international law will continue to operate as a system of mutual restraint, or gradually yield to a practice in which power determines legality through incremental reinterpretation.
