How sailing in political seas can cost you your boat

Iused to tell friends that as an editorial writer for both a newspaper and a sailing magazine I had one of the best jobs in journalism. I could carry out a newspaper scribe’s sacred responsibility to view the machinations of wayward solons and bureaucrats with alarm and rail on arrogant, venal and incompetent politicians. Then I could escape to a pristine world of sailing that was exempt from the evil influence of politics, where I could refresh my muse writing about all that is wonderful about water, wind, sailboats and sailors.

I was young and naive then. Neither of those conditions obtains today. I may even have grown up as far as politics and sailing are concerned. Reality started to dawn in the 1980s when the 10 percent federal luxury tax was imposed on sailboats. While doing nothing significant to enrich the national treasury, this oppressive levy brought the sailing industry to its knees and deprived countless Americans of the opportunity to realize their dream of boat ownership, all for the political effect of making a show of soaking the stereotypical filthy rich yacht buyer.

As grotesque as the boat tax was (the mistake was acknowledged a decade ago when it was finally repealed), it seems almost quaint compared to the latest political shot aimed at sailors. This time the federal government is not taxing our boats—it’s threatening to take them.

A presidential proclamation issued in February empowers the government to seize any vessel in U.S. waters that officials think may be going to Cuba.

So there’s no confusion—it’s the capitalist, democratic republic of the United States, not the Communist dictatorship of Cuba, that issued this edict calling for the confiscation of the private property of citizens suspected of planning to visit an off-limits destination.
Cruising sailors have now gained parity with drug smugglers, whose vessels are subject to seizure by the federal government, at least when they can be caught and found to be carrying illegal drugs. Confiscating drug boats makes sense. After all, they’re used to commit crimes.

But cruising sailors now face the same penalty for the “crime” of sailing, or showing signs of thinking about sailing, in Cuban waters. Unlike drug smuggling, this activity has been legal, and many Americans, some in organized fleets, have sailed to Cuban anchorages and ports in recent years. Show any signs of trying to do that now and, by presidential proclamation, you could forfeit your boat.

I’ve heard from a number of people who have connected the dots like this: It’s a presidential election year. Florida is a key state. One of the keys to Florida is the Cuban-American voting bloc. Cuban-Americans generally support U.S. government action that isolates Cuba. A move as dramatic as threatening to seize vessels that might sail in Cuban waters could win votes in Florida for the candidate who signed the proclamation. Ergo politics could cost sailors their boats.

That’s a bit too cynical for me. I’d prefer a different explanation, but finding one isn’t easy. The rationale for the proclamation is that it’s needed as another weapon in the war on terrorism. Asserting extraordinary powers to fight terror is hardly a novel concept in these times, but in this case it flips the reasonable assumption that homeland security should deal with terrorism threats posed by vessels coming to the U.S. upsidedown. The tortured reasoning here says that American pleasure boats leaving the U.S. to visit another country are a terrorist threat.

Here are some excerpts from the president’s proclamation:
“Whereas the United States has determined that Cuba is a state sponsor of terrorism....

“The Secretary (of Homeland Security) may make rules and regulations governing the anchorage and movement of any vessel, foreign or domestic, in the territorial waters of the United States, which may be used, or is susceptible of being used, for voyage into Cuban territorial waters....

“The Secretary is authorized to inspect any vessel, foreign or domestic, in the territorial waters of the United States, at any time; to place guards on any such vessel and, with my consent expressly here granted, take full possession and control of any such vessel and remove the officers and crew and all other persons not specifically authorized by the secretary to go or remain on board the vessel when necessary to secure the rights and obligations of the United States.”

The language may be a bit clumsy, but there’s no mistaking its chilling meaning: Authorities (the proclamation says this includes state and local law enforcers—your local sheriff or natural resources warden) are empowered to deal harshly with the owners of boats “susceptible of being used for voyage into Cuban territorial waters.” What’s spelled out is rough treatment fit for terrorists. It’s hard to swallow the idea that it would be used on American citizens who have expectations of the presumption of innocence, due process and the freedom to travel.

If it weren’t so coldly draconian, the notion of boarding, guarding and seizing pleasure boats on the suspicion they might sail into the territorial waters of a nearby island nation would be amusing, a classic case of employing a sledgehammer to swat a fly, or a howitzer to dispatch a house mouse.

That’s more sad than funny, of course, and not just because we can’t sail to Cuba. Not many of us were planning to do that anyway. And almost none of us would if the government, for whatever reason, simply said you can’t do it. But when the threat of vessel confiscation is held over the heads of American pleasure boat owners on such dubious grounds it suggests their standing as citizens of a democratic nation is diminished in the name of political expediency.

Sailboat owners, small in number with no constituency to speak of, don’t have much political clout. Which means there’s little reason to expect the boat seizure threat will be lifted anytime soon, barring a regime change in one country or the other.

And I thought the worst political problem facing sailors was the movement to make us, by law, wear life preservers. Maybe I’m still a little naive.