Piracy leaves scars you cannot see and the maritime industry still treats it as a footnote, argues Alexander Dimitrevich, a clinical psychiatrist at Mental Health Support Solutions, in this exclusive for Splash.
I have spent more than 15 years meeting seafarers in the first hours after they step out of pirate captivity, and in those moments you see the truth of piracy far more clearly than in any security report or industry briefing. What becomes immediately obvious is that piracy is not simply an operational disruption or a matter of physical security. It is a profound psychological injury that embeds itself into the lives of those who survive it.
We now have rigorous research confirming what many of us working directly with survivors have known for years. A major comparative study published in Marine Policy showed that former hostages experience markedly higher levels of trauma, psychological distress, depression and long-term health problems compared with those who have never been captured. Many ultimately leave the profession altogether because the experience shadows every future contract.
During the height of the Somali piracy crisis I worked with crews who had endured months and sometimes years of captivity, during which they were subjected to beatings, mock executions and relentless psychological manipulation designed to fracture trust within their own group. Pirates understood that breaking cohesion made people easier to control, and they used this knowledge deliberately. In West Africa the tone can appear more restrained on the surface, yet seafarers held in river-delta camps remain under constant threat and often witness sudden bursts of violence between armed factions. The conditions might differ, but the psychological imprint left on survivors is strikingly similar. They all return home carrying a burden that is invisible to most and rarely acknowledged by many employers.
These experiences do not neatly end when the seafarer arrives at an airport or when the vessel is handed back to its owner. Some survivors are plagued by intrusive memories and hypervigilance, while others remain silent and refuse to discuss what happened, only later pulling away from future contracts or quietly leaving the sector. I have also seen the opposite reaction among crew who have passed repeatedly through high-risk waters without incident and gradually persuade themselves that the danger is theoretical. That kind of denial leads to corners being cut, procedures ignored and a general complacency that undermines every other safety measure in place. Both reactions place seafarers and ships at further risk.
One of the most persistent and damaging issues is the lack of psychological preparation before joining a vessel. Too many seafarers board ships without any clear understanding of how their company will respond if they are taken hostage, without knowing how communication with their families will be handled and without any framework for coping with the reality of captivity should it occur.
Some operators, particularly smaller ones, prefer to assume that piracy will not touch their vessels, often because preparation requires money, time and uncomfortable conversations. Even where contractual rights exist that allow seafarers to refuse high-risk voyages, the practical realities of shipping mean these rights are difficult to exercise, and many seafarers know it. The discrepancy between what is written on paper and what happens in practice creates a deep sense of insecurity that can be just as corrosive as the incident itself.
Industry leaders often reassure themselves by citing the low statistical probability of being captured. At certain points the risk hovered around half a percent, and while this sounds reassuring in a boardroom, it is meaningless to the person who becomes that half percent. Their life changes in an instant, and the consequences for their health, their family and their career are far-reaching.
The maritime sector must finally accept that piracy is, at its core, a human problem. The people at risk are not abstractions. They are the very workforce that keeps global trade functioning, and their psychological resilience is not a luxury or an optional extra. It must become standard practice for companies to provide serious pre-joining preparation, clear and honest communication about protocols, structured decompression time after release and long-term access to qualified mental health professionals. Anything less is a failure of duty and a failure of leadership.
I have sat with too many survivors, listened to too many stories and watched too many careers quietly dissolve to accept the industry’s current level of complacency. Piracy is not simply an attack on a ship or its cargo. It is an attack on the minds of the people who make this industry possible. Until maritime leaders recognise this fact and act with the seriousness it demands, we will continue to fail the very seafarers we rely on.
