58 pages 1 hour read

The Hidden Globe

Nonfiction | Book | Adult | Published in 2024

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Chapters 7-8Chapter Summaries & Analyses

Chapter 7 Summary: “Ad Astra”

Luxembourg’s investment in space exploration relates to the nation’s history of using its flexible legal system to attract business. The chapter opens with a Luxembourg delegation to a company called Planetary Resources in Seattle, Washington. The delegation, which included the grand duke of Luxembourg and his wife, was representing Luxembourg’s support for the start-up’s aims to “expand the economy into space” (159). Interest in exploiting space resources, particularly minerals and metals, has increased in the 21st century, creating a new arena for financial speculation. The Luxembourg government hopes to get in on the ground floor of this new potential market through investment in education, legal frameworks, and the creation of new institutions like the European Space Resources Innovation Center (ESRIC). In 2017, they passed the Space Resources Act that that gives companies based in Luxembourg rights to any materials they find in outer space.

Abrahamian provides a summary of Luxembourg’s history in financial and technological innovation. In the 1920s, it was the first European country to license its radio service to private companies. In 1929, it passed a law that holding companies did not have to pay corporate taxes, resulting in thousands of companies incorporating there. Luxembourg was also a leader in the tax-free holding and transfer of the interest of Eurobonds, a financial instrument that allowed companies to lend and borrow money in US dollars without Federal Reserve oversight. In the 1980s, with the collapse of its industrial sector, Luxembourg tapped economist Georges Schmit to come up with an alternative economic policy. Schmit promoted the commercial sale of satellite television through the Société Européenne des Satellites (SES), which undermined landline monopoly television providers. In the 2000s, Luxembourg created a legal framework for the tax-free sale of digital assets like MP3s. In 2014, Luxembourg faced a scandal when it was revealed how much wealth was hidden away in its banks, estimated at around $8 trillion by economist Gabriel Zucman. Abrahamian notes that many small countries make money by essentially selling their sovereignty through sales of instruments like passports, domain names, or even collectable stamps. Professor Joel Slemrod dubbed this practice “juridical entrepreneurship.”

In 2012, Schmit worked with a former NASA director on connecting with Silicon Valley start-ups interested in space exploration. The companies wanted to be sure that “the fruits of their extraterrestrial labor would be recognized here on Earth” (176). Ownership is a complicated concept in outer space. The earliest property laws—ancient Roman law, as incorporated into common law—relied on the principle of ad coelum, or “to the sky,” meaning one owned everything above and below a piece of land. This theory was watered down after the advent of air travel. Then, the USSR’s launch of Sputnik in 1957 revived debates about ownership of space above a piece of land. The United Nations formed the Peaceful Uses of Outer Space working group to address the question. It held that ad coelum did not apply, and instead advanced the legal principle of res communis omnium, or collective ownership. This was codified in the 1967 Outer Space Treaty.

A decade later, debates began about satellite ownership. The placement of satellites above Earth is regulated by the International Telecommunications Union (ITU) in Geneva, which gave each country an equal right to request satellite space above Earth. Tonga, with the encouragement of American engineer Mats Nilson, used this seemingly equitable system to gain rights to nine orbital slots they then licensed out to satellite operators. Abrahamian argues that this shows that even seemingly egalitarian approaches can be exploited to capitalistic ends.

In 2015, the United States passed the Commercial Space Launch Competitiveness Act, which granted US companies ownership of resources they brought back from outer space. Seeing a potential opening in the market, Luxembourg then passed a law stating that any company registered in Luxembourg (even without a physical presence in the country) would be given commercial rights to outer space resources. Abrahamian characterizes this as “a flag of convenience for spacecraft” (188).

Abrahamian met with leftist organizers in Luxembourg who criticize their government’s willingness to use flexible legislation to attract business. They were particularly critical of the nation’s sale of its sovereignty to exploit extraterrestrial resources.

Abrahamian concludes that “it’s difficult to imagine where Luxembourg would be had it not deployed its ingenious development strategy continually over the past century” (192).

Chapter 8 Summary: “Titanic”

To examine maritime legal frameworks, Abrahamian profiles a cruise ship, focusing on the intersection of maritime law and the treatment of migrants and refugees, as well as on the flag of convenience (FOC) system.

The cruise ship at the center of the chapter was first put into service in 1975 in Finland as Gruziya, commissioned by the Soviet Black Sea Company and used as a passenger ferry and cruise ship. In 1991, after the collapse of the USSR, the ship was managed by Ukrainian state-owned company Blasco, which in 1994 was contracted by the US Department of Defense to assist the Military Sealift Command with the interdiction of Haitian migrants/asylees fleeing unrest and poverty.

The United States has been interdicting, or stopping and returning, Haitian migrants since at least the 1960s. In 1981, President Ronald Reagan’s government made a deal with Haiti that the US Coast Guard could board Haitian-flagged boats to detain and return those attempting to go to the US. Government officials held detainees to determine who would be allowed to enter the United States as an asylee, although between 1981 and 1991 only 11 people were found to have met the standard for asylum. Following a military coup in Haiti in 1991, the US government could no longer hold all of the potential asylees on their ships and began holding Haitians at Guantánamo Bay, a US military base on Cuban territory that the US “leases” from Cuba without the consent of the Cuban government. As a result of this structure, the US government argues that the US Constitution does not apply in Guantánamo. In 1993, the US Supreme Court ruled in Sale v. Haitian Centers Council, Inc. that it was legal for the Coast Guard to send “people back to dangerous places” (202), a practice known as refoulement, because the Coast Guard operates “extraterritorially” (i.e., offshore). In a show of his humanitarian bona fides, President Bill Clinton ordered a push to restart shipboard asylum assessment interviews, even as his administration continued to hold Haitians at Guantánamo. The Gruziya took part in this effort: Officials and staff lived aboard the vessel. Legal anthropologist Jeffrey Kahn described this extraterritorial migrant detention and evaluation system as “a laboratory” for “new forms of border governance” (205).

Later, the Gruziya—now renamed the Odessa Sky—worked as a cruise ship catering to Ukrainian immigrants along the St. Lawrence River in Canada. In 1995, Blasco, which still owned Odessa Sky, was in the process of going bankrupt, so the ship was held in Montréal after legal action from German creditors. However, because the ship sailed under a Liberian flag, her crew was left in legal limbo.

The 1982 United Nations Convention on the Law of the Sea (UNCLOS) sets the framework for maritime laws and treaties. It holds, generally, that 12 nautical miles offshore is national territory, 200 miles offshore is an Exclusive Economic Zone where resources are managed by the state but navigation is free, and everything else is open to “exploitation and navigation” (208). Generally, the flag of a ship determines which set of national laws govern onboard activity. FOCs are sold by small nations to generate revenue, allowing ships to operate in countries with more lax labor, environmental, and other laws. Trade unions criticize this system for allowing labor abuses and other malfeasance to occur without regulation or oversight.

A common source of FOCs is Panama. In the early 1900s, Panama opened its maritime registry to anyone. This is legal due to the 1905 Muscat Dhows ruling in Permanent Court of Arbitration in the Hague, which held that a country has the right to define its own standards for maritime registries. In the 1920s and 1930s, Panama became a popular FOC for Americans, particularly those looking to get around Prohibition restrictions and later, American neutrality laws during WWII. Panamanian flagged ships were also used to save Jewish refugees during WWII and provide supplies to anti-fascist forces during the Spanish Civil War.

Over time, Panama began selling its flags at ever-higher prices. American businessman Edward Stettinius saw a market opportunity and began to work with the then president of Liberia, William Tubman, to create a similarly open maritime registry there. In 1948, Liberia passed Stettinius’s proposed legislation to sell flags. Stettinius’s firm would get 65% of the profits, the Liberian government would get 25% and 10% would go to charity. As of 2024, 15% of the world’s ships fly a Liberian flag. The Liberian flag registry is not run from Liberia; it is registered in Delaware and operates in Virginia. Liberian-flagged ships have been the source of many oil tanker spills.

In 1996, the Odessa Sky sailed to Wilhemshaven, Germany, to meet the demands of creditors. The Ukrainian sailors onboard suffered because they were in a legal limbo and not being paid by the owner company. A local nonprofit and Wilhemshaven residents did what they could to help the sailors. In 1998, the ship was finally sold to a Dutch company and the sailors were given backpay from the proceeds. 

From 2010, the ship was renamed the Salamis Filoxenia and was used for cruises out of Cyprus. In 2014, the Salamis responded to a distress call and picked up 345 Syrian asylum-seeking people on a sinking fishing trawler in the Black Sea. Many of the Syrian migrants subsequently disappeared following disembarkment, while others settled in Cyprus. During the COVID-19 pandemic in 2020, the company that owned the Salamis folded. It was arranged for the ship to be dismantled and sold for scrap via a network of single-use limited liability companies (LLCs) under a Palau FOC. Companies often used the Palau flag to get around EU and US environmental regulations around shipbreaking. The Salamis, renamed the Titan, was taken to a dangerously unregulated shipbreaking facility called Gadani in Pakistan. By 2022, the ship was “classified as dead” (232).

Chapters 7-8 Analysis

Abrahamian analyzes the Exploitation of Obscure Markets by Private Companies in unusual geographic locations, such as outer space and the ocean. Most laws and regulations governing markets are predicated on resources, businesses, and transactions taking place on land, within national borders. In outer space and on the ocean, these assumptions no longer apply, so new regulatory practices have to be created to manage markets. The question of legal frameworks on the high seas is centuries-old, whereas that of outer space is relatively contemporary; both have become domains of exploitation by private actors. For instance, private firms operating out of the United States manage the marine registries of the nations of Liberia, Palau, and Panama. This system allows shipping firms to avoid environmental, labor, and other regulations while enriching private actors. Similarly, Tongo’s privately managed satellite license system serves as a flag of convenience in low-Earth orbit. Luxembourg has already passed legislation to serve as a flag of convenience for companies looking to profit from minerals or metals mined in outer space.

These markets are all created through the sale of state sovereignty, or juridical entrepreneurship. They are examples of yet more Differing Modes of State Sovereignty. In these cases, the states in question effectively sell or license their naming rights to generate revenue. Abrahamian is not critical of this practice. Indeed, she notes, “For small, resource-poor countries at the bottom of the international food chain, the sales of these products can be a lifeline and, more qualitatively, a way to punch above their weight class on the world stage” (174). Even as she acknowledges the exploitation possible in these obscure markets, she nevertheless strikes a balance by acknowledging that they can be essential for small countries.

Marine laws interact with nationalist nation-state legal systems in ways that illuminate The Impact of Liminal Jurisdiction on Vulnerable Populations. There are two main groups that Abrahamian focuses on in this analysis: sailors trapped in a legal limbo when their ship was docked in Montreal and Germany, Haitian migrants in Guantánamo, and Syrian migrants who wound up in Cyprus. Abrahamian describes in vivid detail what these people suffered. For instance, a lawyer for the detainees at Guantánamo described “portable toilets […] filled with feces and urine […] Rain, vermin, and rats are the other occupants” (202). The sailors faced hardships such as being forced to sleep in “cabins [that] didn’t go above 10 degrees Celsius [50 degrees Fahrenheit]” (219), with little food, soap, or other necessities. Abrahamian uses these tangible examples to illustrate how legal fictions like the FOC system create material realities that have devastating impacts on people.

The Hidden Globe is a journalistic work, not an academic one. Therefore, Abrahamian does not provide footnotes or cite her sources. However, her Notes on Sources at the end of the book, as well as her references to titles and researchers whose work she has relied on within the text, reveal that Abrahamian’s research was comprehensive. In addition to the interviews described in the narrative, she also interviewed experts on background. For instance, while researching Chapter 8, she “spoke on the phone twice” to expert Rodney Carlisle, author of Sovereignty for Sale (321). She read academic articles and books, conducted field work by visiting various locations, and examined archives. The depth of this research gives the work credibility.

The Hidden Globe frequently alludes to works of fiction to illustrate particularly salient points. Abrahamian most often references Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein (1818); other works are cited include Christopher Nolan’s film Tenet and German author B. Traven’s novel The Death Ship (1926). Abrahamian uses The Death Ship’s plot to show that questions of nationality and jurisdiction on the high seas have long been a bureaucratic morass in which sailors get trapped; in her analysis, “any freedom [the sailors] experience is a function of having nothing left to lose” (213). These fictional interludes function similarly to Abrahamian’s anecdotes: They give depth and texture to what could otherwise be a relatively dry description and analysis of complex legal arguments.

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