Toxic frontlines
DURING the 1991 Gulf War, the world witnessed one of the largest oil spills in history as 6-8 million barrels of crude oil was deliberately released into the Persian Gulf.
Coral reefs were damaged, fisheries collapsed and seabirds suffered immensely. Some ecosystems took decades to recover and the Gulf still bears the legacy of that catastrophe. More than three decades later, war again ravages the region. Images from Iran show hospitals struck, neighborhoods destroyed and energy facilities burning, as civilian casualties mount into the thousands and entire cities are displaced. Ports operations are disrupted, trade slows and thousands flee as aid routes strain and fertilizer exports falter. Global markets have already reacted, with oil prices climbing and insurers pulling coverage as ships avoid the Strait of Hormuz. Yet, the land’s destruction tells only part of the story. The Strait – a critical chokepoint carrying nearly 1/5th of the world’s oil, now sees commercial traffic stall. Since coordinated US and Israeli attacks in late February, tankers wait in safer waters, insurers withdraw coverage and the crisis above the surface – barrels of oil, sea lanes and geopolitical tension – masks the far-reaching consequences beneath the surface.
The Persian Gulf is a shallow, semi-enclosed sea that exchanges water slowly with the Indian Ocean, making it ecologically fragile. These waters are already under pressure from dense shipping traffic and industrial activity. Any damage to tankers, ports or coastal infrastructure risks releasing pollutants into the environment. Contaminants introduced into the Gulf can linger for years; surface waters may take 1-3 years to flush out, while deeper waters may remain trapped for up to six, deepening the vulnerability of marine ecosystems when disasters occur. Modern warfare only increases these risks. Electronic interference, naval maneuvers and strikes on energy infrastructure have become features of conflict in the region. In a waterway crowded with oil tankers, even small disruptions can trigger accidents. In Jun 25, two tankers collided after apparent GPS interference, releasing an 8-kilometer oil slick. As vessels navigate under heightened military tension, chances of tanker fires, spills and fuel leaks mount substantially.
The Gulf’s marine ecosystem is particularly vulnerable. Coral reefs across the region already survive at the edge of heat tolerance, stressed by warming waters and pollution. Seagrass beds serve as nurseries for shrimp, rabbitfish, pomfret and other commercially-important species, while also providing grazing grounds for dugongs. Mangrove patches along the Iranian coast and across the Arabian Peninsula buffer shorelines and shelter juvenile fish and crustaceans. These ecosystems also follow seasonal rhythms. Many key fish species in northern Gulf spawn between April-September, when warmer waters promote breeding. Eggs and larvae develop in shallow coastal habitats that are especially vulnerable to contamination. Exposure to oil or heavy metals during this period can sharply reduce survival and undermine future fish stocks.
The Gulf’s slow circulation means pollutants can linger for years, threatening successive breeding cycles; while active conflict makes large-scale cleanup nearly impossible, putting ecosystems and coastal livelihoods at long-term risk. It is important to note that many Gulf countries depend heavily on desalination for freshwater. More than 400 plants operate along Gulf coastlines, producing 40% of world’s desalinated water. In countries like Kuwait, Oman and the UAE, desalinated seawater provides well over 80% of municipal supply. Even small oil slicks near intake pipes can force plants to shut down. In highly-urbanized Gulf States with limited natural freshwater, disruptions could threaten water supplies within days.
Despite these risks, legal protection for the environment during war remains weak. Frameworks such as the Geneva Conventions, the Rome Statute and the Environmental Modification Convention theoretically prohibit environmental destruction, but their enforceability entirely depends on the willingness of states to comply. The threshold for what counts as “widespread, long-term and severe” environmental damage is so high that, as of 2025, no conflict had produced a successful prosecution. Customary principles like distinction and proportionality technically require militaries to consider environmental harm, yet they are hardly enforced.
Expecting compliance from perpetrators is idealistic. The US has withdrawn from/undermined key treaties/conventions, signaling that even formal commitments carry no weight when own interests dictate otherwise. If a state that openly rejects climate and environmental accountability is already bombing schools and civilian infrastructure, the ecological concerns are unlikely to figure in its calculus. Bodies like the IMO or maritime tribunals have virtually no leverage over states actively flouting both humanitarian and environmental norms. If accountability is to extend beyond rhetoric across present and future conflicts, it must rest on independent monitoring coalitions, regional rapid-response mechanisms and post-conflict restoration frameworks tied to polluters-pay principle; enabled by enhanced UN-platforms, regional blocs and technical bodies capable of operating beyond political deadlock.
—The writer is associated with the National Institute of Maritime Affairs. The views expressed are his own.
