By Luis Maldonado – Olefin Logistics Technician.
The energy transition in maritime transport and ports is moving at high speed — but, for many operators, it is advancing with a bill that few want to discuss. Between climate targets, new technical obligations and fiscal pressure, decarbonization runs the risk of becoming a “sustainability for the rich”, in which large groups are able to adapt and medium-sized shipowners, secondary ports and regional exporters are left with their backs against the wall.
Since January 1, 2024, the maritime sector has been covered by the EU ETS, with a progressive implementation: 40% of emissions in 2024, 70% in 2025 and 100% in 2026. To this is added the FuelEU Maritime, which imposes targets for reducing the intensity of greenhouse gases (starting in 2025) and, later on, the obligation for onshore power supply (OPS) in designated ports, starting in 2030 or 2035. On paper, the destination is clear; on the ground, the question is who pays — and who can survive until then.
In the EU ETS, the reality translates into allowances purchased per ton of CO₂. For a ship with annual emissions in the order of tens of thousands of tons of CO₂e, the cost can quickly escalate to hundreds of thousands (or more) per year, worsening as coverage increases and depending on fluctuations in the price of carbon. And when the shipowner does not have the scale to absorb the shock, the cost tends to trickle down the chain: surcharges, freight adjustments and direct pressure appear on exporters and freight forwarders — especially smaller ones, with less negotiating power.
At port level, OPS — the so-called “cold ironing” — is presented as a virtuous solution, reducing local emissions and part of global emissions during the ship’s stay. The problem is the “how”: the infrastructure requires heavy investments (high voltage networks, converters, transformers, onboard equipment, certifications) and, even when the port installs it, many ships are simply not prepared to use it. The risk is evident: expensive, underutilized infrastructure, with permanent maintenance and an environmental return below what is promised — while fees and fixed costs end up being pushed onto operators and users.
At sea, “retrofit” and alternative fuels seem, for many, to be an inaccessible showcase. Converting to options such as LNG, methanol or ammonia involves high investments, and the supply network is far from universal. Result: the technological transition tends to accelerate market concentration, because only large groups have cash, financing and the ability to plan fleet and logistics simultaneously; the small ones, even if they operate reliable ships, are stymied by a lack of capital and the growing burden of compliance.
The social and economic dimension also enters the equation. There are indirect impacts that rarely make headlines: higher freight rates for exporters, administrative obligations with no clear return for small operators, new technical requirements for workers without adequate training and regional ports going into debt to install solutions that may not be used. And there is a politically sensitive point: the existing social and compensation mechanisms were not always designed to cover the maritime and logistical reality, leaving the “periphery” of the system with an invoice and no network.
The alternative involves a “fair and effective” transition, less dogmatic and more operational: compensatory funds for medium and regional shipowners; inter-port coordination to avoid duplicate, incompatible or useless investments; scalable and adaptable infrastructures; interoperability and corridor planning; and regulation that combats greenwashing, requiring a real assessment of the environmental return of proposed technologies. Sustainability, yes — but with technical intelligence and economic justice, so that “mandatory green” does not become a new exclusion filter.
