Citrini's field research on the Strait of Hormuz

I. Research Concept

“What if I went directly to the Strait of Hormuz?”
This question was initially just a joke—like the soliloquy in bed at two in the morning, hardly worthy of serious consideration, and should have been lost to time, like those plans vowed to be carried out before sleep but abandoned upon waking due to real-world responsibilities. But it wasn't two in the morning, and we weren't in our bedroom.
We were sitting in the office of Citrine Research in Midtown Manhattan, watching the geopolitical crisis, the worst in a decade, continue to unfold on our phone screens. The world's most liquid market, like memes, was fluctuating wildly and erratically between Trump's tweets and Associated Press headlines.
It was obvious that nobody—really nobody—analysts, journalists, retired generals spouting off on cable news, and certainly not us—truly knew what was going on. Everyone was relying on the same outdated satellite imagery, anonymous Pentagon sources, and the same AIS shipping data. And I later discovered that this data missed about half the actual shipping traffic passing through the Strait every day.
Ultimately, isn't it our job to bring clarity to this chaotic investment landscape? I was eager to do so, and I had the connections (at least some) to achieve it, and it would be a fascinating experience. Thus, the decision to travel to the Strait of Hormuz was made.
In our office apartment in Citrini, New York, we packed a Xiaomi phone (equipped with a 150x zoom Leica camera, a souvenir from our visit to a robotics factory in China), a Global Maritime Distress and Safety System beacon, $15,000 in cash, a gimbal, and a microphone setup into a Paliken protective case. We sat down to work backwards, focusing on the questions we most wanted answered.
Hormuz Strait Intelligence Research Itinerary
Day 0: Dubai - Dubai International Financial Centre
Meet with shipbrokers, commodity traders, and tanker analysts;
Establish a basic information database and analyze publicly available market data;
Communicate with informed individuals to assess the expected trends of military operations and the shipping market.
Day 1: Fujairah
Set sail at dawn to observe hundreds of idle tankers and billions of dollars worth of stranded cargo;
Visit the area surrounding oil storage facilities in the Fujairah oil industrial zone to identify the types of damaged, full, and low-stock storage facilities;
Visit the shipping agency district and the Radisson Hotel bar to gather firsthand information. Day 2: Khorfakan → Diba → Hasab
Travel north along the east coast of the UAE, inspecting the Khorfakan container port, which handles transshipment cargo;
Enter Musandem Province in Diba, reaching the Gulf region where the UAE, Oman, and Iran meet;
Arrive in Hasab in the evening, observing the movements of dhows heading towards the Iranian coast from the port.
Day 3: Musandem Waters
A full day of research by speedboat, passing through Khorsham Fjord and Telegraph Island, heading to Qomzal—only about 15 kilometers from the Iranian coastline;
Consult with local fishermen, conducting on-site inspections of the waterway traffic separation zone;
Manually count the number of vessels and compare it with data from the real-time Automatic Identification System (AIS) on a mobile device. Day 4: Khornajid → Bukhar → Ras Al Khaimah → Dubai
Travel by 4WD to Khornajid, the only road viewpoint overlooking the Persian Gulf shipping lanes. Observe the strait's navigation and ship activity, gather intelligence from locals, and cross-verify with vortex shipping data in real time;
Exchange ideas with fishermen in Bukhar who have cross-strait communication channels;
Pass through Ras Al Khaimah to inspect the dhow shipyard, the Gulf Stream trade zone, and the physical infrastructure of Iran's informal trade;
Return to Dubai.
My itinerary plan is: first, fly to Dubai to communicate with acquaintances and contacts at Sittrini Research; then drive to Fujairah to gather footage and intelligence at the oil terminal; then cross the border into Musandem province in northern Oman, arrive in Hasab, and try to go out to sea for on-site investigation.
I started calling major travel companies to try to book a boat to Qomzal—an Omani village accessible only by sea and the closest human settlement to the Iranian coast. Looking back, it was a security blunder, essentially revealing our itinerary prematurely, but at the time I couldn't think of any other way to obtain a boat. Fortunately, from a security standpoint, the identity information I provided to the travel companies was entirely fabricated. Each time I called, I tried different identities: an adventurer, an oil trader looking to inventory passing ships, a real estate investor. ("Hey bro, you think I'm the first real estate investor you've met here? Now's the perfect time to buy! Land prices are ridiculously low; when others are fearful, that's when we enter!") But no matter how I phrased it, the answer was always the same: "No." Only one company operating dolphin tours agreed to my request. It turns out: the Iranian Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps can intercept oil tankers, but it can't deter dolphins. I finally found transportation to the Strait of Hormuz. We reviewed our contact list, tailoring questions to different identities, covering various groups including shipping agents, ocean brokers, ship refueling companies, government officials, military officers, and local business intermediaries. We hoped to gather firsthand information from those who had personally experienced and handled matters related to the Straits, and then I would travel to the Omani border to observe the true situation firsthand. After arriving in Dubai, I went straight to Fujairah. Although this route is accessible to everyone, the trip was still quite fruitful. I saw the damage to the oil storage facilities caused by the previous attacks, which was far less severe than I had expected—a local worker told me that the damage at Ruvez was much more serious. I spoke with several employees who had narrowly escaped death in a drone attack three weeks earlier, yet remained at their posts. I also had impromptu conversations with staff from GPS Chemicals and Chemical Petroleum, who confirmed that the port's operational level was currently only about 30% of pre-conflict levels, but basic operations had been restored. I didn't intend to go to great lengths to infiltrate the port, so I drove back, arriving just in time for the poker game I always attend when I come to Dubai. Having not slept since leaving New York, winning money at poker in this condition was virtually impossible.

III. Border Checkpoints

In many ways, Dubai remains the familiar Dubai—the Sipriani restaurant is still bustling, though not as popular as before the crisis, and Bellini cocktails and meringue desserts are still readily available. But as you drive towards the Omani border, the city's glamorous facade peels away layer by layer: American soldiers appear in what was once desolate areas; the once busy roads are now empty; finally, you arrive at a dilapidated desert border checkpoint in the middle of nowhere, seemingly built for livestock control and later converted for pedestrian traffic.
I made a mistake—I took a photo at the border—due to extreme sleep deprivation, I blatantly held up my phone like a tourist taking a picture at a scenic spot, forgetting that this was a military-controlled border restricted area. The guard stared at me, his eyes scrutinizing, as if judging whether I was a threat or simply a fool. "You just had your picture taken?"
The border check on the UAE side went smoothly; after the stamp, you could drive away. But on the Omani side, the situation was completely different. I was led into a place that could only be described as "the worst desert vehicle registration office on earth": four Pakistanis, barefoot and drinking tea, bustled between windows, their efficiency sluggish—clearly people who had worked there for decades and were just looking for a peaceful retirement. I, wearing a flat-brimmed hat and American brand sweatpants, stood out starkly from my surroundings.
Those ahead of me in line all passed through smoothly, had their passports stamped, and left. I handed over my Western passport. Two guards glanced at it, then exchanged a silent exchange—a sure sign of trouble for anyone being scrutinized. One of them said, "Just a moment."
Ten minutes later, a man completely different from the other border officials came downstairs: he wore a traditional Omani hat, a neat robe, and exuded expensive cologne. He spoke fluent English and was clearly of a higher rank than the stamping staff. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.” He led me into a small room with tea and began asking questions at a leisurely pace, as if he already knew most of the answers and just wanted to see how I would fabricate the parts he didn’t know. He asked for my parents’ names, hometown, and my workplace, then said in his still gentle tone, “You should know that photography, news reporting, and intelligence gathering are prohibited here.” He also asked about my political stance, my views on the war, and my attitude towards Israel. I lied and said I was a tourist and friendly to everyone. He then pressed me about my religious beliefs. “Are you Shia or Sunni? What kind of Muslim?” “An unqualified Muslim. I just drank three glasses of alcohol two hours ago.” He made me sign a pledge—a formal document prohibiting reporting, photography, and intelligence gathering, with full legal consequences for violations. He watched me read the entire document, a gesture that only fueled his suspicions. At desert border checkpoints, the standard procedure for such legal documents is to sign them directly; my careful reading clearly indicated I was someone who would thoughtfully consider the content of my signature. He then said he needed to check my luggage and asked if I was carrying any recording equipment. I could make excuses for the tripod, and I could lie that my Ray-Ban sunglasses were just ordinary sunglasses, but the professional microphone set with its windproof hood—if discovered, this research trip would be doomed. He opened his Perikon protective case; cigars were on the top shelf. I handed him one, which he accepted with a nod, which I took as a sincere thank you. He then simply glanced at a pair of sweatpants before closing the case. Forty minutes after crossing the border, the breathtaking scenery of the Omani coast unfolded before me: crystal-clear waters and majestic mountains plunging into the sea. My first meeting in Oman gave me a deeper understanding of a counterintuitive yet recurring idea: hot war and commercial diplomacy can coexist. Before this research trip, I had always viewed the Straits situation in a black-and-white, binary way: either open or closed; conflict either escalates or de-escalates. But reality is not so simple. I managed to meet with an Omani official, a man of calm composure, much like Master Yoda from Star Wars, who had lived his entire life at the mouth of the Strait of Hormuz. He recounted the Iran-Iraq War, the Gulf War, and the regional crisis of the 1970s. “You will see this,” he told me, “the ground conflict in Iran continues, while shipping volume in the Strait will surge.” “That sounds contradictory,” I responded, to which he agreed. “Yes, we are simply adapting to the situation. It may seem counterintuitive to you, but that’s how things work in the region.” His explanation was simple and straightforward: the ground conflict may continue, or it may stop, but everyone else is trying to live their lives well. He likened the situation to two friends fighting while everyone else went about their lives as usual, going to bars. This was the reality around the Strait of Hormuz. After the meeting, I arrived at my booked hotel. What was once a popular tourist destination now resembled the Hotel Overlook in *The Shining*—dead and lifeless. Of its hundred rooms, only one or two were occupied; the entire hotel was operating at a loss, merely to maintain the illusion that "tourism is still running normally." When I contacted the dolphin tour company again, they had cancelled my reservation. To be fair, given the current security environment, this was a rational choice; but for me, it undoubtedly hampered my research. I wandered the town for hours, talking to everyone—hotel staff, fishermen's families, and anyone who might know someone with a boat—but was repeatedly turned away. I had $12,000 in cash in my pocket, but still couldn't find a boat heading to the strait. I was the only Westerner in the entire Musandam province, dressed in American-style clothing, cash in my pockets, wearing wired headphones, and communicating by phone with the Sittrini Research Company. Passing cars slowed down to scrutinize me, children pointed and whispered, and the whole town felt like it was dealing with a perplexing alien intrusion. I, in fact, failed to blend in discreetly. Finally, I arrived at a small canal near the heavily guarded main port, its banks lined with speedboats. There, I encountered a group of Iranian smugglers who told me their livelihood consisted of transporting contraband such as electronics, cigarettes, and alcohol to Iran daily. I asked if they were ever arrested; they said occasionally, and one of their friends had died the previous week. These smugglers supported the Iranian Islamic Revolutionary Guard Corps and were outspoken about their demands: they wanted the Strait of Hormuz to remain open and under Iranian control; what they wanted was business, to make money. When I asked if the conflict had slowed their transport frequency, they laughed. They traverse the strait daily, and illicit transport has never diminished—this, in itself, is a market signal. Like oil tankers sailing from Harqa Island, if a ship is allied with the Iranian Revolutionary Guard, it sails without fear. This phenomenon indicates that Iran has the ability to precisely select its targets. Among this group of smugglers, there was only one Omani. I approached him and spoke to him in Arabic; his name was Hamid. After I pulled out a wad of cash, he said he would arrange a speedboat for me the following morning. V. "To hell with the police" Around nine o'clock that evening, I drifted off to sleep, only to be awakened by the most awful telephone ring I had ever heard—a low, monotonous ring, like an electrocardiogram stopping. The receptionist informed me that two officers from the Criminal Investigation Bureau were downstairs, wanting to question me. In the Gulf region, the Criminal Investigation Bureau is comparable to the CIA, but far more ruthless. I locked my iPhone in the room safe and grabbed my spare phone. They'd obviously seen the tweet from Citrini Research about Analyst #3—thanks, James. I went downstairs in my pajamas and hotel slippers. As an Arabic-speaking English speaker, I knew a security rule: if things got tough, speak only English, because Arabic opens many doors you don't want to open—you might be labeled a spy, a sympathizer, or something else you can't shake off once you're labeled. So, I went downstairs and only spoke English: "Hi everyone, I only speak English." The hotel receptionist, who'd been chatting with me in Arabic all day, turned to the CBI staff and said, "This guy speaks fluent Arabic." They told me to come with them, and when I asked if I could change out of my pajamas, the reply was: "Get in the car." It was pitch black outside, and it was the same inside the Honda Accord. Two agents sat in the front, and a tall man sat in the back, who would soon be my neighbor. We drove for twenty minutes in Hasab, a small town nestled among mountains, without a single streetlamp, so dark that the road was barely visible. The three people in the car remained silent the entire time. The only sound was their conversation with their superiors: "Have you picked him up?" "How much further?" I broke the silence, asking if something was wrong. The person in the front turned to the agent who had brought me into the car and said, "Answer him." The agent simply said, "No problem." The car fell silent again. Upon arriving at the police station, they reported to their superiors, "He has been detained." They conducted a thorough search of me, repeatedly entering and leaving the room, leaving me alone to wait anxiously. "We simply cannot believe you're here as a tourist," they implied I worked for another government, and even tested me with an Iraqi passport I didn't possess, recording my written statements and pressing me about who I had met in Dubai. When I gave the surname of someone I knew, the atmosphere in the room subtly changed; clearly, the name held special significance for them. I asked them to call this person to confirm I posed no threat. Afterward, I was locked alone in a dry room for several hours, during which time I had ample time to reflect on the series of decisions that had led me to this predicament. When I left the police station, they clearly assumed I was just a fool, not a spy, yet they issued me a fatal warning: "We know about your sea voyage plans. Cancel it; you're not leaving." They took me back to the hotel, saying as they parted, "We hope to welcome you back as a tourist during a less sensitive time." The words sounded sincere, yet chilling. I sent a message to the Citrini Research Company via encrypted communication software, informing them that the research trip was canceled. Soon, I received a reply, a tone of supportiveness offered from a safe distance: "Dude, it's okay. This means this trip shouldn't have happened in the first place. It's safer for you not to go to the Strait; the ship data and interview records are enough." I stared at this message for a long time: the intelligence services had explicitly forbidden me from going to sea, and Hamid's contact information had been exposed. The rational choice—and the choice I would advise anyone to make—was to go to bed, drive back to Dubai the next morning, and be someone who tried, failed, and could accept the outcome. But I still messaged Hamid, informing him of everything that had happened: the Criminal Investigation Department had come to my door, taken down his number, and searched my belongings. Then I wrote, "What if we insisted on going?" Hamid replied in Arabic, "To hell with the cops." The next morning, the "speedboat" Hamid had mentioned turned out to be a dilapidated 40-year-old boat with an engine displacement of only a few hundred milliliters and no GPS—navigating entirely by feel, relying on his lifelong familiarity with the area and a worn-out radio half-tied to the hull. As we set off, two Iranian smugglers loading cargo at the port sped past us, heading towards Iran. A few minutes later, two coast guard vessels suddenly appeared and intercepted them. While all the law enforcement in the area were busy dealing with the contraband on the two ships, we quietly sailed along the coastline, successfully evading inspection. Hamid looked at me and said, "We're safe." Qomzal is a remote fishing village where the local dialect blends Portuguese, Persian, and Arabic. Half the families in the village have relatives in Bandar Abbas, Iran, and people travel to and from Iran as freely as they do within Oman. I sat on the ground, eating bread with the local fishermen, who told me a lot—information that no tracking system or satellite could capture. Every day, four or five oil tankers turn off their Automatic Identification Systems (AIS) and quietly pass through the strait. The fishermen said the actual volume of traffic is far higher than the data shows, and the number of ships passing through the Qeshm Strait has been steadily increasing in the past few days. They also told me that civilian vessels and fishing boats have also been attacked by drones—these non-military targets are destroyed but never reported in the media. A fisherman who has crossed these waters twenty times since the conflict began described it this way: You see a boat, hear a loud bang, and then it disappears. Locally, it's just an ordinary day. Sitting on the beach, an old fisherman told me two seemingly contradictory facts: far more ships pass through the strait than outsiders imagine; and far more attacks occur than outsiders know. I asked why these two conclusions could hold true simultaneously, but they had no theoretical framework to explain, only shrugging. The black-and-white binary thinking—the strait is either open or closed, the conflict either escalates or de-escalates—is completely incompatible with the reality off the coast of Kumzhar: more ships, more attacks. This phenomenon is gradually becoming the dominant theme: the US threatens a full-scale war, while its allies are negotiating with Iran; drone attacks continue to increase, and shipping volume in the strait is rising in tandem. It seems nothing is set in stone. The fishermen of Qomzal, the Omani officials I met the following day, and the Iranians I encountered in the Strait all conveyed the same message: Iran's requirement for ships to obtain approval before transit is largely a propaganda tactic. Its aim is to portray the United States as an unreliable ally, while positioning itself as the rational party striving to maintain order in a deteriorating situation. The message Iran wants to send is: we have the capability to peacefully operate the Strait of Hormuz and ensure the safety of shipping under our control; and the proof of our sovereignty is that trade in the Strait will continue regardless of US actions. Follow our procedures, pass our inspections, and your ship will pass safely. This reminded me of my experience in Ras Khalifa, where I met a Greek-Australian captain in a hotel bar. He had gray hair and a bald head, resembling Mike Ermantrout from Breaking Bad. We left the bar and went to the port, where I listened to him explain the workings of the "Iranian tollbooth." His ship was queuing, waiting for Iranian transit approval, as they were submitting the necessary documents. He described how numerous ships were waiting in line after repeated communications with Iranian intermediaries, unable to pass without approval. This is the fundamental difference between a "blockade" and a "toll road": the market has been pricing in a scenario of a "blockade of the strait," while the reality at sea is increasingly resembling a "toll road." He corrected many of my misconceptions, which now seem like nothing more than "nonsense conjured up while staring at a monitor screen." He told me that nobody really believed the Strait of Hormuz was riddled with mines. His reaction to the view that "insurance is the only reason ships don't want to transit" was almost incredulous: "The core reason ships don't want to transit is that they don't want to sink to the bottom of the sea. Insurance? Do you think we want to die?" "Listen, there will always be people who take the risk—Denacom Line in Greece, Changjin Shipping in South Korea—they have the guts. But think about it from the shipowner's perspective: if you send a ship through the strait and it gets hit, what will happen? With shipping charter rates at record highs, you'll lose a ship. Even if the insurance company compensates, you won't be able to buy a replacement the next day because the existing fleet is already fully booked. Meanwhile, shipowners who moor their ships in the bay as floating storage are making a fortune without doing anything. So, ships don't want to transit not only because of life and death, but also because of not doing anything stupid." Standing in the harbor, gazing at the sea, listening to his explanation, I suddenly realized how many of the views circulating at desks and in investment banking chat channels were utterly foolish. The people on this land are living, breathing individuals with real motivations and emotions, and this logic applies equally to most relevant decision-makers. Omanis, the most neutral observers in the Gulf region and Iran's longest-standing neighbors, generally agree that "Iran acts rationally and predictably." The residents of Qomzal, whose families are mostly in Bandar Abbas and whose local armed forces are under the control of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard, hold a more extreme view, seeing the war as an opportunity to humiliate the "empire" of the United States. We left Qomzal and sailed into the open sea. As the Iranian coastline came into clear view, I lit a cigar. Twelve miles away, Qeshm Island was faintly visible—Iran's first island, and I was unaware that it would be attacked the following day; only a friend at a poker game had warned me of this possibility. The day after the airstrike, an American F-15 fighter jet, followed by an A-10 attack aircraft, was shot down over the island. Then, I looked up, and the war unfolded before me with a realism that satellite imagery and AIS data could not convey. The witness drones were clearly visible to the naked eye: their propellers spun rapidly as they swept low overhead, their outlines highly recognizable. I raised my phone to take a picture, but Hamid—the one who had yelled "Fuck the cops!"—shouted at me, telling me not to take a picture. American drones, meanwhile, flew alone in higher airspace. My phone, through an Omani SIM card, received signals from oil tankers with their AIS systems disabled. These vessels, undetectable on any tracking platform, were the "ghosts of the sea" as described by the fishermen of Qomzal, and now I was witnessing their presence firsthand. Next, I saw a Greek Dynacom shipping tanker sail straight through the center of the strait—unlike the other ships that huddled close to the coast or crawled slowly, it crossed the strait at full speed, as if in peacetime. It was the only ship doing this; all the others were carefully avoiding risks and trying to remain discreet, while this ship acted without any restraint. Clearly, it has reached some kind of agreement with Iran, precisely the "customized passage arrangement" described by Qomzar fishermen and Omani officials. If one needs a visual to confirm the claim that "the Strait of Hormuz is reopening under Iranian control," it would be this: a Greek oil tanker speeding through the center of the strait while drones hover overhead and other vessels linger at the edge. We also observed vessels suspected to be Chinese-flagged passing through the Qeshm-Lalak Strait, and confirmed the passage of vessels flying the flags of India, Malaysia, Japan (LNG carriers), Greece, France (container ships), Oman, and Turkey. According to residents of communities along the strait, in the two weeks prior to our arrival, approximately two to four vessels passed through the Qeshm-Lalak Strait daily; however, our on-site count on April 2nd showed 15 vessels transiting the Strait of Hormuz. Although our statistical methods weren't professional-level—we simply found a good spot at a hotel bar, observed with a domestically made mobile phone at maximum zoom, and recorded data on a laptop at sea—these data are still significant. Sources familiar with the matter indicated that shipping volume remained at this level on April 4th, with 15 to 18 ships passing through the strait. This means that the shipping volume in just two days reached the total volume of the previous week. All of this confirms what the Australian captain said: Iranian drones only attack oil tankers that refuse to comply with their navigation rules. But at sea, I remained vigilant. Fishermen in Hamid and Qomzal told me that some fishing boats were inexplicably bombed without warning or explanation, and some attacks were likely accidental. These drones didn't seem to be able to accurately distinguish between "illegal oil tankers" and "forty-year-old dilapidated boats." So I thought, since I was already here, I might as well take the plunge. I leaped into the sea, a cigar dangling from my lips, a Witness drone hovering overhead. Hamid, using my domestically made spare drone, captured the scene. I jumped back onto the boat, and then several smuggling vessels sped past us—about eight, perhaps more. On board were Iranian youths in their early twenties, smiling broadly, waving at us, and throwing cigarettes at us. I returned the peace sign. Suddenly, one of the smuggling vessels turned and sped towards us from the Iranian direction. For those five seconds, I was certain my life was about to end; the only thought in my mind was of the Emirati fisherman stuffed into a barrel and cut into seventy-two pieces. It turned out it wasn't an Iranian Revolutionary Guard vessel, just another smuggling boat. It slowed down beside our boat, getting close enough for me to see his face clearly. He smoked a cigarette, I had a cigar; he offered me a cigarette, and I gave him the cigar. In the heart of one of the most contested waters on Earth, we looked at each other, nodded, and smiled through the gap between our two ships, without uttering a word. I could tell my grandchildren about this for a lifetime. We decided it was time to head back. VII. Port Prison On the return journey, I was still caught up in the most exhilarating emotions of my life, and my cell phone signal began to recover intermittently. Just then, a Coast Guard vessel appeared, heavily armed, and intercepted us. As they yelled at Hamid, I immediately shouted in English, "I'm a tourist!" At the same time, I frantically transferred files from my phone to another device and deleted all the photos—because if they found even one photo of a drone, I would be in deep trouble, the kind of trouble even my poker friends couldn't get rid of. Law enforcement took us to a place for smugglers—the port prison, not the police station or border post, a place specifically for those whose lives are "not valued by the system." They confiscated my domestically produced mobile phone, claiming they needed to conduct a thorough inspection, and then locked Hamid and me in separate rooms. Hamid's boat didn't have a GPS system, only a handheld radio that had been simply modified and fixed to the hull. When the Coast Guard asked if we were carrying navigation equipment, and we answered "no," the officer gave his assessment, his tone weary and blunt. He had clearly seen too many foolish decisions, and our actions were among the worst in his eyes. Some time later—apparently a friend with high-ranking connections made a call for me, the details of which I may never know—they released me. They called me an idiot, confiscated my phone, and warned that if any evidence of a crime was found, they would prosecute me. I never heard from them again. That was the lowest point of this research trip, and the closest I ever came to life-altering consequences. But I didn't care; even jail time was acceptable. I was overwhelmed with excitement: I had actually crossed the Strait of Hormuz, accomplished what everyone thought was impossible, witnessed everything firsthand, and gathered insider information that no one else knew—this excitement completely masked my fear. I returned to the deserted hotel bar and drank eleven beers. VIII. Evacuation During the remaining days in Oman, I was constantly under surveillance: three people followed me like shadows, and wherever I went, I saw those familiar faces; a car followed me, making no attempt to conceal it, extremely blatant. The hotel staff were also adamant in their insistence on my check-out, which was understandable. I spent a thousand dollars to hire a black SUV to take me around for the last few hours—I regretted not spending that much from the beginning, because at that price, people are willing to tell you everything and take you anywhere. I ate fried chicken at a place called "Hormuz Fried Chicken," and it was absolutely delicious. At the border checkpoint, the first thing the guards said to me was, "He's here." They thoroughly searched my bag. One of them picked up the Ray-Ban smart glasses and asked, "What's this?" "Sunglasses," I replied, and he put them down. The microphone kit was hidden under my trousers at the back of my bag. He rummaged through my clothes but didn't say anything about the other items. "Looks like he's not the one they're looking for," one of the guards said. Our Observations and Their Significance This concludes the full story of our research trip to the Strait of Hormuz. The following is our analytical conclusion. After Analyst #3 returned, we spent eight hours giving a comprehensive report, cross-checking his observations with information we gathered from our own sources, publicly available data, and conversations with knowledgeable individuals in the region. The above is narrated in the first person by Analyst #3 because it's the most authentic way to present the findings of our field research; the analysis below represents the perspective of Citrini Research. The most important takeaway from this research, and also our advice to readers, is to abandon prejudice and binary thinking. The current situation in the Strait of Hormuz is far more complex than imagined. Before setting out, we assumed the conflict would escalate and the Strait of Hormuz would remain closed. This research changed our assessment of a "strait closure," but not our view of "conflict escalation"—a view we would have considered logically contradictory before this mission. We also have a more nuanced understanding of the future trajectory: our baseline prediction is no longer a simple "open" or "closed" scenario, but a more complex one—the strait's shipping volume will continue to rise while the conflict continues. We believe this is an important signal of the world's transition to multipolarity: although the United States is in intense conflict with Iran, its allies are actively negotiating with Iran. Core Viewpoints: 1. The Strait's shipping volume will continue to increase: Regardless of how the situation develops, we believe the strait's shipping volume will gradually increase. 1. The fact that Greek Dynacom shipping tankers can pass directly through the center of the strait indicates that even if mines exist, they are not deployed indiscriminately to block all ships. 2. Diplomatic "Tollbooth": Surprisingly, the passage order in the strait is actually quite orderly. Iran has established checkpoints in the Strait of Hormuz, guiding all approved vessels to the channel between Qeshm and Larak islands and charging them "passage fees." 3. The contradiction of escalation: We have reliable information confirming that the US military is preparing for more ground operations, but we believe that even if ground operations commence, shipping volume in the strait may continue to increase. 4. A restructuring of the global order, not a battle of wits: This conflict is not a simple "two-sided confrontation," but a multi-party game. The ultimate winner will not be determined solely by military victory, but by the restructuring of the world's multipolar order. What is the overall atmosphere on the ground? Amidst enormous uncertainty and global attention, human resilience is being demonstrated. Wars have broken out on this land many times, and may break out again in the future; the United States continues to focus on its oil resources; neighboring countries are at war, the risks are real, but life goes on. All of this will eventually pass.
Core Argument: Parallel War and Diplomacy
The most counterintuitive finding of this research is that hot war and commercial diplomacy are taking place simultaneously: the United States continues to take military action, while other countries in the world are adapting to the situation and negotiating with Iran regarding passage through the Strait of Hormuz. US allies, including France, Greece, and Japan, are all seeking their own solutions.
In the past, it was hard to imagine such a situation: Japan, the EU, and other US allies negotiating with Iran, a direct conflict country of the United States, to ensure the safety of passage through the Strait; while the United States is preparing for further military conflict. But now, this has become the norm in the world.
These countries must deal with the problems they face themselves, because the United States will not solve them for them. This is precisely the message Trump conveyed in his public speeches: countries that rely on the Strait of Hormuz should be "responsible for the security of this waterway." This leads us to believe that it is highly likely the conflict will escalate further in the coming week or so, while shipping volume in the strait will increase accordingly. The opening or closing of the strait is not entirely determined by the escalation or de-escalation of the conflict. The airstrike on Qeshm Island port is the clearest example of this: the airstrike temporarily slowed shipping in the strait, with ships essentially at a standstill during the bombing, but the waterway reopened on the same day. These military strikes have not affected Iran's long-term plans. Even if Qeshm Island is bombed to pieces, shipping in the strait will only slow down temporarily; the fundamental trend will not change. Two days after analyst #3 went to sea, a US F-15 fighter jet and an A-10 attack aircraft were shot down over Qeshm Island; the A-10 crashed into the Persian Gulf, but even so, shipping in the strait continued as usual that day. On April 2nd, at least 15 ships passed through the strait; the number increased further the following day, although the increase was small, the trend was clear. Residents of communities along the Strait of Hormuz reported that about two weeks before our arrival, only 2 to 5 ships passed through the Qeshm-Lalak shipping lane daily. While this number is far from the pre-conflict volume of over 100 ships per day, we anticipate this will be the future trend: despite the chaos, shipping volume in the strait will gradually recover as the conflict continues. However, very few very large crude carriers (VLCCs) are currently passing through the strait; in fact, vessels larger than Aframax tankers are rarely seen. If only LPG carriers and small tankers pass through in the future, the situation will not change significantly, and the global economy will still face significant risks. The quickest way to avoid this situation is for the United States to allow Iran temporary control of the Strait of Hormuz. Ships passing through the strait have been confirmed to come from countries including India, Malaysia, Japan, Greece, France, Oman, Turkey, and China. Chinese-flagged vessels were found to have their Automatic Identification Systems (AIS) turned off while navigating the Lalaak-Qeshm shipping lane. We also witnessed a new phenomenon: for the first time, ships completely deviated from the Qeshm-Lalak shipping lane—VLCCs and empty LNG carriers sailed close to the Omani coast, bypassing Iranian checkpoints and transiting independently. A tanker belonging to the Greek company Dynacom was the only vessel we saw to pass directly through the center of the strait, and we still don't know how they managed it. The company's head, George Prokopiu, has a history of clandestine navigation. This phenomenon at least confirms that the Strait of Hormuz is not currently riddled with "mine traps blocking all ships," as rumored, and aligns with the view that "Iran is pushing for the strait to return to normal traffic." As for the existence of selectively activated deep-sea mines, we cannot provide a definitive answer. Iranian smugglers near Larak Island, who have spent their lives transporting contraband across the strait, reported a significant increase in the number of ships they have seen recently. They believe this is not accidental; all ships passing through the strait have communicated with the Iranian Revolutionary Guard and obtained passage permission. They learned from family members with military backgrounds that shipping in the Strait would soon return to normal. Could the US ground operations halt this trend? The answer is possible. However, the downing of a fighter jet over the shipping lane did not affect shipping; the airstrike on Qeshm Island port did not halt shipping either. For shipping in the Strait to completely cease, the US military would need to launch a massive military operation specifically targeting shipping in the Strait, an action that does not align with the core interests of either side. The Operation of Iran's "Tollbooth" Surprisingly, the navigation order in the Strait is actually quite standardized. Iran has established a functional checkpoint in the Strait of Hormuz, guiding all approved vessels to the channel between Qeshm Island and Larak Island (a few vessels passing close to the Omani coast, and the Greek oil tanker we saw passing through the center of the strait, are exceptions), and charging "passage fees" to passing vessels. Since mid-March, no vessels have used the traditional shipping lanes. The operational mechanism is as follows: The ship's owner or its country first contacts an intermediary broker in Iran, submitting information such as the ship's ownership structure, flag, cargo type, crew composition, and destination. Then, a "transit fee" is paid, payable in cash, cryptocurrency, or, more commonly, and often underestimated by the media, diplomatic solutions—such as unfreezing Iranian assets in foreign banks to circumvent sanctions. Iran monitors the passage rules using drones and satellite imagery. A station on Larak Island is responsible for approving ship passage, and this monitoring is selective. Iran conducts rigorous reviews of ships to confirm whether they have any secret alliances with the United States. These reviews include ownership structure, shareholder composition, and communication with the crew. This means that the idea that "once a country obtains passage approval, other countries can simply fly that country's flag to pass" is unrealistic. Iran will do everything possible to ensure that all countries genuinely intend to reach an agreement with Iran, minimizing any attempts to exploit loopholes.
Once approved, ships receive some form of passage confirmation. We understand that Iran uses a password-like confirmation system, suitable for covert passage with the Automatic Identification System (AIS) disabled, and also for normal passage with the AIS enabled.
Currently, almost all ships are navigating within Iranian territorial waters, not the traditional Omani territorial waters. Approved ships receive a confirmation code and pass under Iranian escort; unapproved ships must wait in place.
However, crucially, simply having ships leave the strait is insufficient to have a positive impact on the global economy; ships must also return to load cargo. Only those ships listed by Iran as "friendly or neutral" can travel to and from the strait to load cargo, ensuring the smooth flow of bulk commodity transport and truly preventing a global energy crisis.
Misconceptions about "Tolls"
Western media generally believe that Iranian "tolls" are paid in RMB or cryptocurrency; this claim is only partially true. Analyst #3 learned from multiple local sources that diplomatic channels are the primary way for vessels from countries other than China to obtain passage rights. This method effectively circumvents sanctions risks, yet it is severely underestimated by the media. Most payments are settled through Kunlun Bank; while RMB payments do exist, they account for a very small percentage and are more of a formality. Chinese-flagged vessels likely do not need to pay any fees to pass. Due to concerns about violating U.S. Office of Foreign Assets Control (OFAC) sanctions, other countries have had to seek innovative payment methods, not necessarily using offshore RMB. For example, India obtained passage rights through diplomatic agreements, and France appears to have adopted the same approach, consistent with Macron's stance against the U.S. at the UN Security Council. Is it an insurance issue or a survival issue? It is widely believed that the only reason ships are unwilling to pass through the Strait of Hormuz is due to insurance concerns. However, this is not the case: the primary concern for ships is being attacked by drones and sinking to the bottom of the sea; secondly, there is the potential for penalties for violating OFAC sanctions after paying "transit fees" to Iran. This is why a viable solution currently exists: Trump demands that Iran open the Strait of Hormuz, Iran cooperates with Oman to establish a "tollbooth," and ships, trusting the security guarantees of the Iranian Revolutionary Guard, are willing to pass through the strait. If the US were to demand that Iran fully open the strait and abolish the "toll," while simultaneously launching military action to prevent Iran from collecting the toll, then shipping across the strait would come to a complete standstill. If this military action lasts for more than 3 to 4 weeks, the global economy would face catastrophic consequences. Currently, the global commercial oil inventory is experiencing a net daily loss of approximately 10.6 million barrels, and the Khabshan-Fujairah pipeline has already been forced to shut down twice. Even considering pipeline rerouting, the remaining shipping volume in the Strait of Hormuz, the release of strategic oil reserves, imports of sanctioned oil, and the increase in Middle Eastern oil inventories, if only 15 ships pass through the strait daily by the end of April, the global economic situation will be precarious. All relevant parties are well aware of this. We believe that the most stable situation at present is that, compared to US escorts, the Iranian Revolutionary Guard's approval for passage offers greater security at present. All vessels authorized to pass through the Iranian Revolutionary Guard were unharmed. Whether the US will allow Iran to collect tolls in the Strait indefinitely is another matter. However, we believe that during the transition period, the US is unlikely to take direct action to prohibit this behavior by Iran. As long as this toll-based passage model can maintain a certain level of shipping volume in the Strait, it will buy enough time for all parties to reach a solution for two-way traffic before an economic catastrophe occurs. Iran's Intentions and Gambles All of the analyst's communications in the region point to one core conclusion: Iran does not want the Strait of Hormuz closed. All non-US countries view a shutdown of the Strait as a disaster; Iran, on the other hand, hopes to restore normal shipping in the Strait as soon as possible, while establishing its own sovereignty. For Iran, the best propaganda is to keep the Strait of Hormuz operating normally, thereby cultivating its image as a "rational manager of global trade" while portraying the US as a "force disrupting global trade." From the public statements of Iranian officials, it is clear that they are making every effort to portray the United States as a "foolish and dysfunctional empire," while positioning themselves as the "guardian of the world." Iran's core objective is obviously to isolate the United States as an "empire" and prove to the world that even without the US, Iran can cooperate with other countries. For Iran, completely closing the Strait of Hormuz again would be tantamount to detonating nuclear weapons in a war with a nuclear power—an absolute last resort. The Omani officials we met with compared Iran's long-term plans for the Strait of Hormuz to Turkey's management model of the Bosphorus and Dardanelles Straits under the Montreux Convention. The Montreux Convention, since 1936, governs the passage through the Turkish Straits. Turkey has full sovereignty over these waterways, allowing free passage for commercial vessels, while military vessels must comply with Turkish restrictions, notifications, and tonnage regulations. Furthermore, in wartime, Turkey can completely prohibit the passage of navies of belligerent nations. It is noteworthy that the United States is not a signatory to this convention. This arrangement, which has lasted for nearly 90 years, is widely recognized as one of the most successful examples of a "rules-based order managing strategic chokepoints." Iran believes that its current system in the Strait of Hormuz is the beginning of a similar model: not a permanent blockade, but the establishment of a sovereign system controlled by Iran—Tehran setting the rules of passage, collecting "tolls," restricting the passage of hostile military vessels, and allowing commercial vessels to pass under its own rules. This perspective is crucial for investors because it reveals how the situation might ultimately unfold if the conflict does not end in a complete defeat for Iran. If Iran is pursuing a model that NATO member Turkey has successfully operated for nearly a century, then investors need to consider the implications of such a world order. Whether the United States will accept this comparison is another question. In the short term, however, all parties have only two choices: either allow the strait to remain blocked, triggering a global economic catastrophe in the next two to three weeks; or accept Iran's current "toll-based passage" model.
Iran's strategic maneuvering demonstrates its confidence and indicates that its communication partners are not Washington, but other countries around the world.
Although we were unable to speak directly with Iranian policymakers, we had in-depth discussions with Omani officials who have firsthand knowledge of Iran's thinking. The US perspective on this conflict is well-known, but understanding Iran's considerations is equally important.
Iran views this game as a high-stakes gamble: two out of three possible outcomes would improve its situation. Of course, in the third outcome, Iran would cease to exist.
But regardless of the outcome, the end result will be that ships will continue to pass through the Strait of Hormuz; the only difference will be whose flag they fly and who will collect the "tolls" (if any).
Iran's Centralized Control and the Houthi Card
From conversations with Omani officials and Qomzal residents with kinship ties to the Iranian military, we were struck by the impression that despite significant losses, Iran's leadership maintains a high degree of centralized control. There are no "autocratic radicals" at the top, and all military operations are tightly coordinated centrally—a fact confirmed by all sources.
Omani officials also pointed out that Iran's performance in the conflict—"resistance despite counterattacks"—is not something a fragmented regime could achieve. Evidence of this is that all vessels authorized by the Iranian Revolutionary Guard were not attacked.
The Houthi rebels—a force that should have been the "first to strike"—have been strictly restrained by Iran and have maintained a low profile. If Iran had lost control of its proxy forces, the Houthis would have been the first to act, but they did not.
The targets the Houthis had the capability to attack but did not, and the targets they actually attacked, are equally informative. Restraint requires strict hierarchical control, which means Iran has sole control over the "tollbooth" of the Strait of Hormuz. Iran and Oman are cooperating in managing and regulating the Strait of Hormuz, with Oman viewing it as a shared responsibility. During our investigation, Iranian officials were in Oman discussing the details of the strait's management; for obvious reasons, we did not attempt to contact them. Strait of Hormuz and Bab el-Mandeb Strait Strait of Hormuz 1. A key node in global energy transport; 2. Handles approximately one-third of global seaborne oil transport; 3. A core focus of geopolitical risk. Bab el-Mandeb Strait 1. A strategic waterway connecting the Red Sea and the Gulf of Aden; 2. An important link in the Suez Canal shipping route; 3. High risk of shipping disruption due to regional instability. One of the most valuable pieces of intelligence from this investigation is that Iran is strictly restraining the actions of the Houthi rebels. This information was provided by sources within the Omani government and independently confirmed by military and government sources in the region. The Houthis have always been at the forefront of regional conflicts, as evidenced by their history of clashes with the UAE and Saudi Arabia. As Iran's most radical proxy force, the Houthis have maintained an unusually low profile regarding Red Sea shipping, a stark contrast to the more active Hezbollah in Lebanon. While they have resumed missile attacks on Israel, they have not attempted to block the Bab el-Mandeb Strait. This action is a deliberate arrangement by Iran. Iran is holding onto the "Bab el-Mandeb Strait card" as a reserve, only to play it when the conflict escalates to the point where it requires maximum pressure on the global economy. Iran's actions are clearly planned in a hierarchical manner, and the Houthis' inaction is itself a signal that Iran has precise control over the pace of escalation. By allowing ships to pass normally through the Strait of Hormuz and refraining from directing the Houthis to block the Red Sea, Iran is striving to gain space for sovereignty negotiations with all parties. This action is a deliberate strategic move by Iran. Iran is holding onto the "Strait of Bab el-Mandeb" as a backup plan, only to play it when the conflict escalates to the point where extreme pressure on the global economy is required. Iran's actions have a clear hierarchical plan, and the Houthi inaction itself is a signal, demonstrating Iran's precise control over the pace of escalation. By allowing ships to pass normally through the Strait of Hormuz and not authorizing the Houthis to blockade the Red Sea, Iran is creating space for sovereignty negotiations with all parties. If the situation changes, the window for negotiation will close. Throughout this conflict, Iran has consistently demonstrated considerable restraint. The escalation of the situation in the Strait of Hormuz began after the end of the previous battle, the outbreak of a new conflict, and the violation of Iran's core red lines. Nevertheless, considering the current direction of US military operations, the Houthis still have the potential to escalate their actions.

Future Forecast

Sources directly from the Oman Governor's Office revealed to us that the ground conflict within Iran will continue, while shipping volume in the Strait of Hormuz will rebound accordingly. The parties trapped here are not willingly stagnating, but are all trying to maintain unimpeded shipping. Ground fighting may continue, but if not, all other relevant parties will continue their normal production and daily lives.
The consensus we received from all interviewees is that during the conflict, ships from the United States and its pro-American allies will find it difficult to pass through the Strait of Hormuz, while ships from all other countries are queuing up to apply for passage permits from Iran.
The list of countries granted passage permits is rapidly expanding. On March 26, Iran first opened passage to five countries: China, Russia, India, Iraq, and Pakistan; within a week, Malaysia, Thailand, the Philippines, France, and Japan also successfully obtained passage rights. We predict that this list will continue to grow—because countries around the world will realize that the costs associated with diplomatic engagement with Iran to ensure their own energy supplies are worthwhile. Unless the situation undergoes a fundamental reversal, we believe that EU ships will not be attacked again during the conflict. We have extremely high confidence in the gradual restoration of navigation in the Strait of Hormuz; this is the overwhelming conclusion drawn from all our on-site experiences and interviews during this research trip. The future development of the situation is essentially one of two possibilities: either the US launches a devastating attack on Iran, completely depriving it of its ability to exercise sovereignty, and the Strait of Hormuz returns to free navigation under US security control; or the conflict continues to escalate into a costly and unpopular war, in which Iran achieves its core demand—the restoration of navigation in the Strait of Hormuz under its own control. Meanwhile, for all countries except the US, the safest option is to reach an agreement with Iran to ensure the continued smooth flow of shipping.