Baba Yunus Muhammad
As tensions escalate around the Strait of Hormuz, competing claims from the United States and Iran have brought a critical question into sharp focus: who actually has the right to control one of the world’s most important maritime chokepoints?
At first glance, the issue appears straightforward. The strait lies between Iran to the north and Oman to the south. Both countries exercise territorial sovereignty over parts of the waterway. This geographical reality forms the basis of Iran’s argument—that it has the authority to regulate passage, especially under conditions it defines as threatening to its national security.
But international maritime law tells a different story. The Strait of Hormuz is widely recognized as a “strait used for international navigation,” a classification that places it under a special legal regime. Under this framework, ships and aircraft of all nations enjoy what is known as transit passage—the right to move continuously and expeditiously through the strait without interference. This right is not a courtesy extended by coastal states; it is a legal entitlement grounded in the broader need to keep global trade functioning.
In principle, this means neither Iran nor Oman can lawfully block the strait or impose arbitrary conditions such as tolls on passing vessels. The logic is simple: if every coastal state were to exercise absolute control over such chokepoints, global commerce would collapse into a patchwork of restrictions, fees, and political leverage.
Yet the reality on the water is far less orderly. Iran has long argued that its sovereignty entitles it to greater control, particularly in times of heightened tension. It has also pointed out that not all major powers, including the United States, have fully committed to the same legal frameworks they invoke when it suits them. This selective adherence weakens the credibility of the rules-based system and provides political cover for counter-claims.
At the same time, the United States maintains a significant naval presence in and around the strait, justified under the doctrine of ensuring “freedom of navigation.” In practice, this presence allows it to project power, deter adversaries, and influence the security environment of the waterway. While framed as a stabilizing force, it is also a demonstration of how military capability translates into strategic control.
The result is a paradox: a waterway that is legally open to all, but practically shaped by those with the capacity to enforce their will. This tension between law and power becomes most visible during crises. Iran may not have the legal right to close the strait, but it possesses the means to make passage dangerous—through naval maneuvers, missile threats, or the potential deployment of sea mines. Such actions do not need to fully halt traffic to achieve their objective; they only need to raise the level of risk. Once insurance costs spike and shipping companies reconsider routes, the effect is similar to a closure.
Recent developments suggest that this dynamic is no longer theoretical. What is emerging in the Strait of Hormuz is a model of control that stops short of formal closure but achieves many of the same effects. Rather than declaring the waterway shut, access is being conditioned—through heightened military presence, selective escorting, and the implicit threat of disruption. The result is a shift from guaranteed passage to managed transit, where movement is no longer simply a legal right but increasingly a calculated risk. In such an environment, the distinction between an “open” strait and a restricted one begins to erode. Shipping companies respond not to legal definitions but to exposure: rising insurance premiums, uncertainty of safe passage, and the possibility of escalation. What emerges is a de facto form of control—subtle, deniable, but economically consequential.
Conversely, the United States may champion open navigation, but its ability to secure that openness depends on its military dominance. Freedom, in this context, is not simply a legal principle—it is an outcome enforced by power.
Beyond the legal and military dimensions lies the economic reality that makes the Strait of Hormuz so critical. A substantial share of the world’s oil exports passes through this narrow corridor, linking producers in Saudi Arabia, United Arab Emirates, and Kuwait to global markets. Any disruption—real or perceived—immediately reverberates through energy prices, shipping costs, and financial markets.
For import-dependent economies, particularly across Africa and parts of Asia, this creates a structural vulnerability. They are exposed not only to fluctuations in supply and demand, but also to geopolitical decisions over which they have little influence. The strait, in effect, becomes a point where global inequality is both revealed and reinforced.
Efforts to mitigate this vulnerability are ongoing but incomplete. Some Gulf states have invested in pipelines that bypass the strait, allowing a portion of their exports to reach markets without passing through it. Others are exploring alternative shipping routes or diversifying their energy portfolios. However, these measures cannot fully replace the capacity of the strait, at least not in the short term.
The deeper issue, therefore, is not simply who controls the Strait of Hormuz, but how control itself is defined. Is it a matter of legal entitlement, rooted in international agreements? Or is it a function of power, determined by who can impose costs and manage risks?
In practice, it is both—and that is precisely the problem. As long as global trade depends on narrow chokepoints, and as long as those chokepoints lie within or near contested regions, the tension between law and power will persist. Legal frameworks can set norms, but they cannot eliminate the strategic incentives that drive states to assert control. Military presence can deter disruptions, but it can also provoke them.
What emerges is a fragile equilibrium, maintained not by consensus, but by calculation. The current crisis serves as a reminder that this equilibrium can be disturbed at any time. It also highlights the need for a broader conversation about the governance of global commons. If waterways like the Strait of Hormuz are essential to the functioning of the global economy, then their management cannot remain subject to unilateral decisions or power contests.
For now, however, the reality is unchanged. The strait remains open in law, contested in politics, and vulnerable in practice. And as long as that gap persists, the question of who really controls it will continue to have more than one answer.
Baba Yunus Muhammad is President of the Africa Islamic Economic Forum (AFRIEF) and a leading intellectual, writer and policy advocate specializing in Islamic economics, governance, and ethical development. His work focuses on the intersection of political authority, economic justice, and civilizational thought in Africa and the Muslim world.
