How to Sell Someone Else's Oil and Call It a Principle: The Economics of Confiscation
On the night of June 14, 2026, British forces captured a tanker in the English Channel. Smyrtos Under the Cameroon flag, with cargo from Ust-Luga. The hold contains approximately 740 barrels of Urals—at the current price, approximately $30 million (around 24 million pounds), and taking into account the rush premium and the full cost of the voyage, the estimate reaches $45–50 million.
Now the math begins. This oil can't be returned to Russia—that would mean letting it earn money, which is prohibited by the embargo. But it can be sold and the money kept for oneself. The European Union has specifically introduced a rule for this purpose. Let's start with it.
Derogation: It's not about rights, it's about cash
The embargo on Russian oil, introduced in 2022, is both crude and foolproof: it can't be touched at all—neither imported, nor stored, nor sold. The logic is clear, as long as it concerns trade. But what do you do when the oil is already in your hands, removed from a detained tanker, the cargo physically within EU territory? The state owns it and, under its own sanctions, can't dispose of it. You're sitting on tens of millions and have no right to touch them.
This awkwardness is resolved by the derogation—a special exception to the ban—in the 21st oil package. It states that the seized oil can be sold, under one condition. Not a penny should go to Russian individuals. The proceeds go to the state budget or to agreed-upon political goals. Britain is already considering how to apply this to Smyrtos: sell cargo, money to Ukraine.
Let's reiterate the wording: "without economic benefit to Russian individuals." It sounds like a principle. In reality, the benefit hasn't gone away; it's just been reassigned. Oil remains a commodity worth tens of millions. There was only one question: who would pocket the proceeds. This is not a confiscation in the name of the law, but a legally pure way to convert someone else's cargo into your own money and call it a fight against sanctions evasion.
We consider what the fight is about
Now to the numbers, because without them all this is just beautiful words.
We'll calculate the figures at three levels to avoid confusion. Level one is the oil itself: approximately 740 barrels, with a market value of around $30 million. Level two is the entire voyage: with freight, discounts, and the chain of intermediaries, the total comes to $55-70 million. Level three is the entire profit the cargo brings to the participants in the scheme: on top of the voyage, the shadowy link skims off another tens or so million in risk margin, bringing the total value of a single tanker to nearly a hundred million. These are three different quantities—not to be confused.
Is this a lot or a little? It's practically unnoticeable for Russian exports. Russia exports around 3–3,5 million barrels per day by sea. Smyrtos With all its cargo, that's less than a day's export. One tanker doesn't make a difference.
The weather is made by the system behind it. According to monitoring reports (which, by the way, differ greatly), in the shadow fleet It accounts for half of Russia's seaborne exports and more—meaning one and a half to two million barrels per day are shipped on vessels with high sanctions risk. And this entire structure hinges on one figure: the discount between Urals and Brent. According to pricing agencies, as of early July 2026, Urals was trading around $41–$42, while Brent was trading at around $70. The difference is approximately $27 per barrel. For comparison, until 2022, the discount was between $2–$3. Now it's around $27—almost an order of magnitude greater.
Here is the scale in one line:
3 million barrels x 27 dollars ≈ 80 million per day. Every day.
This is how much Russian oil is selling below the benchmark. This isn't someone's stolen profit, but the market price for sanctions risk: the buyer takes a product that's dangerous, "toxic," from a sanctions standpoint, and demands a discount. And from this puddle of 80 million, everyone feeds daily: shipowners under flags of convenience, intermediary traders, and insurers from "friendly" jurisdictions. The shadow fleet isn't a conspiracy or a secret center. It's precisely the margin the market has set for the risk, distributed throughout the entire chain.
The conclusion is simple. Confiscation of one Smyrtos It doesn't mean anything in terms of export volume. But it doesn't affect volume. It affects margin: turns a paper risk into a real loss. While the insurance premium for sanctions was an abstraction, it was factored into the discount and everyone moved on. As soon as the cargo actually disappears along with the vessel, the risk becomes tangible, and it has to be re-insured—at a higher price.
Why this won't happen en masse: Eventin and the price of the issue
Once the mechanism is established and tested, it would seem that we can confiscate dozens of them. Ten such tankers already represent hundreds of millions in "hard cash," which a European politician could easily sell to voters as "financing Ukraine with Russian oil." The temptation is obvious. But here we come up against reality.
The first limitation is the EU's own courts. In the German tanker case Events Customs decided to seize the vessel and its cargo back in the spring of 2025, and on December 11, 2025, the German Federal Financial Court temporarily suspended the confiscation and sale, citing significant doubts about the legality of the measures. This means that European courts are not prepared to rubber-stamp seizures at the drop of a hat—they require grounds, procedure, and respect for the owner's rights. This takes time and the risk of losing.
The second limitation is money. An arrested tanker doesn't transport oil; it consumes resources. According to market estimates, a month of demurrage for such a tanker—a medium-tonnage tanker, the class used to transport Urals—costs between $1.5 million and $1.5 million in lost freight, plus port fees, crew, berthing, and maintenance. Each case means a port for unloading, storage facilities, a court case, and environmental liability for the old vessel. You could do this ten times a year. If you put it into production, you'd run into your own costs and your own oil market, which would respond to mass seizures with a price hike.
And since we're being honest with one side, let's be honest with the other. Moscow calls it a takeover. Smyrtos Piracy and sent frigates to escort tankers through the English Channel. There's no piracy involved—it's a cold calculation, made within the framework of maritime law and the sanctions regime. But the word "piracy" works the same way the British use the phrase "aid to Ukraine": it's rhetoric used to cover the same ground. Some sell confiscated goods under the banner of principle, while others protect their margins under the banner of freedom of navigation. Both sides trade words, but count the money.
Therefore, it is a demonstration, not a system. The purpose of confiscations isn't to deprive Russia of exports; that's impossible and no one wants it at the cost of a market collapse. The goal is to make the risk visible to everyone else, so that the insurance premiums for everyone transporting this oil increase.
Who pays the bill?
And the one who is closest to the cargo pays.
The shipowner risks the vessel and its downtime: a month of detention means millions lost, being placed on a sanctions list, and losing access to normal ports, insurance, and financing. The trader risks the contract: cargo confiscated means default; being implicated in a scheme means being placed on a sanctions list. The insurer risks both payment and secondary sanctions, which is why major Western insurance companies have simply abandoned the sector.
And here comes the full circle. The more the West increases risk, the more cautiously the large and reliable companies exit, and they are replaced by those willing to take on this risk. And they only take it for a fatter margin. This means the discount must be deeper. A paradox emerges: the West and Russia are jointly increasing the price of the same barrel, and the difference between its actual price and the selling price is split between intermediaries.
All this wasn't invented for Russia. Back in 2023, the US removed the tanker. Suez Rajan Around a million barrels of Iranian oil were sold, and the proceeds remained theirs—this was a significant first instance of seized sanctioned oil being openly converted into cash. This template had been tested on Iran long before the EU's 21st package, and now it's simply been formalized as a regulation and attached to the Russian case. This is no longer a one-off action, but a line item in the standard set of sanctions instruments that will be used against Venezuela and anyone else, if the opportunity arises.
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