Explosives in the Beirut Port: How did they get there?

The August 4 expulsion of nearly 3,000 tons of impounded chemicals in the Port of Beirut seemed to catch everyone by surprise, from the owner of the Moldovan-flagged MV Rhossus, which originally unloaded the cargo into the portside warehouses, to the entire Lebanese government, which thought it wise to put as much space between it and the inevitable questions that would need to be answered. 

Western nations who bargain imports and exports, tariffs, and hope to occasionally convince the IMF and the United Nations Commission on Trade Law that they want nothing more than a fair set of regulations by which to negotiate, no doubt are aware just how differently these issues are resolved in other parts of the world.

Since the end of the Second World War and the rise of the multinational state of Yugoslavia, the Balkans have become a pipeline utilized by a Black Market that makes a show of respecting international borders. 

Cigarettes, liquor, narcotics, prostitutes, you name it, have found their way from the former Soviet Republics, Moldova, and Eastern Europe down through what was once Yugoslavia before finding a bit of a bottle-neck at the border between Kosovo and Macedonia.

Interestingly enough, anyone driving through the Balkans will see just as many trucks stuffed full of what is assumed to be the same commodities one sees on the autobahns of Germany. The European Union has made every effort to facilitate the movement of goods from one member state to the next, with the necessary financial details resolved equitably behind the scenes according to EU protocol.

What is truly incredible to consider is that another system is in place that attempts to govern trade just as effectively for nations that are not part of the EU. The system, with security provided by criminal enterprises, pretends to make use of established customs offices that invariably exist at both land-based and maritime Ports of Entry. 

This system, to which the MV Rhossus and its illegal cargo no doubt belonged, has its tentacles wrapped around every imaginable item that carries value.  The real money comes from the smuggling through customs of illegal goods, which always find a market and bring in the highest profit ratio.

Don't be fooled by the en masse resignation of the Lebanese government- Beirut happens to be one of the more active locations for customs officials, government ministers and various criminal enterprises to ensure deliveries are on time and headed to the right destination. Customs officials get a proverbial new plaque on the wall for efficiency, and in a manner similar to the methods used by the Cosa Nostra in New York City in the 1960s and 70s, everyone gets a piece.

Since Yugoslavia sent Woodrow Wilson spinning in his grave in the 1970s and 1980s, Europe could do little more than express concern as the Balkans began to revert geographically to its pre-World War I borders. No doubt feelings of nationalism set in motion by the destruction of the Berlin Wall and the collapse of the Soviet state, fueled by 24-hour television news programming highlighting a new eneration of young Croats, Bosniaks, Kosovars, Slovenians and Macedonians carried these events into the living rooms of Serbia and Montenegro, two former pieces of greater Yugoslavia who had not jumped on the "dump Socialism" background. 

Since then, both Belgrade and Podgorica have instituted substantial reforms to open up their economies and attract the kind of foreign capital that allowed Croatia, Slovenia and Bosnia-Herzegovina to take advantage of unspoilt beaches, beautiful scenery, medieval ruins, and reasonable prices. 

As the international community follows the political and social changes occurring throughout the former Yugoslavia, one monolithic Tito-esque federal customs agency managed to avoid real efforts of reform. In reality, most of the former Customs Officers who inspected incoming traffic managed to keep their positions.

The "welcome" pamphlets provided to incoming tourists have softened their language substantially, and each major highway crossing the border into one of the Yugoslav Republics will provide snack shops, kiosks set up to sell tourists little curios to bring home to friends in Oslo and/or Dublin, and the ubiquitous modest museum.

The rapid changes that the citizens of the Former Yugoslavia have shared include substantial growth in persons working for the government. Interestingly enough, special attention was given to any and all efforts to reform the customs offices.  During the 1970s and 1980s, the Customs Bureau was basically a law unto itself. Trucks laden with cigarettes or beer knew the drill well. No vehicle without the correct "paperwork" would be allowed entry. Normally, though, issues relating to permits are resolved beforehand.

Corrupt enterprises that control the smuggling routes throughout the Balkans, and down into Turkey and Lebanon are similar to the Mafia, but with arguably less violence. Every customs officer working in the former Yugoslavia, Macedonia, down to Cyprus and Turkey, fulfills a vital role. It's their job to ensure that the system continues to work as it always has, and they are compensated accordingly. Those who show patience and dedication to the process can earn enough money following through on their part (shipments arrive on time, local police officers are kept satisfied, and payoff is very consistent).

For the relatively new governments popping up in and around the Balkans, it's important that they understand exactly what position they occupy in the grand scheme of things.  The triumvirate that basically controls the endemic corruption includes:

1) the Customs Unions that have been representing in many cases the same Customs employees,

2) the rich businessmen who skim their cut off the top of everything that moves, and

3) the crime bosses that control the truck driver's unions and the dock workers.

The MV Rhossus was absolutely a part of this corrupt enterprise. The speed in which the Lebanese government disappeared, along with any local brokers and related businessmen should send a message that the yearly take of billions of dollars through extortion, bribery, and intimidation is now being targeted by international law enforcement entities. Although the writing was on the wall, the incident involving the MV Rhossus and its cargo has forced the issue to the forefront. If Montenegro, Macedonia, Croatia, and the other Balkan states, alongside Moldova, Ukraine, and the numerous former Soviet Republics of the Caucasus, choose to take control of their own future, the resources that will legally become available can truly change the lives of generations.