In a world where the global economy depends on the constant flow of goods, data, and capital, geography still has the power to set the rules. For some nations, an ocean coastline is a gateway to world trade; for others, it’s an unreachable horizon. The latter—those landlocked states—are forced to find unconventional ways to plug into global supply chains, navigating not just physical distance but also political, economic, and infrastructure hurdles.
The third UN conference on the challenges facing landlocked developing countries took place in Turkmenistan’s Awaza National Tourist Zone, drawing leaders from more than a hundred nations, alongside dozens of international organizations and major corporations. It was no accident this gathering happened here—in a country that technically has a shoreline but is cut off from the world’s oceans by the landlocked Caspian Sea. That’s the whole point: in the 21st century, a “view of the water” doesn’t guarantee open-sea access, and lacking a direct link to ocean routes still places heavy constraints on a nation’s economy and geopolitical weight.
Historically, having an open-sea outlet was one of the ultimate competitive advantages. Before the capitalist era, maritime routes were the lifelines of trade and cultural exchange, shaping the economic power and political reach of seafaring empires. Overland corridors like the Silk Road were vital, but they couldn’t match the scale, speed, and volume of maritime commerce—or the rapid spread of technology it enabled.
Even today, with advanced rail and highway networks, sea transport reigns supreme. According to international data, maritime shipping still carries about 80 percent of the world’s trade. Modern cargo ships can haul volumes that dwarf the capacity of any land transport system, and their cost efficiency remains unmatched.
By contrast, land routes are plagued by systemic obstacles—bureaucratic red tape, mismatched customs procedures, multiple border crossings, and visa requirements—all of which drive up delivery times and costs. As then–UN Secretary-General Ban Ki-moon noted back in 2013, shipping a container from Central Asia to Europe overland means navigating a gauntlet of costly, complex procedures at several borders. By sea? Just two checkpoints: the port of departure and the port of arrival.
Sea access is more than an economic variable—it’s a strategic asset that can define a nation’s influence. In a world where Francis Fukuyama’s “end of history” forecast has aged into a relic, and conflicts keep flaring, control over maritime chokepoints can shape events far beyond regional politics.
Take the Houthis, derided by some Western commentators as “militia in flip-flops.” Without heavy weapons or a navy worth the name, they managed to gain a grip on the Bab el-Mandeb Strait—a critical artery linking the Red Sea to the Gulf of Aden and the Indian Ocean. This narrow channel serves as the southern gateway to the Suez Canal, a route that handles roughly 10 percent of global seaborne trade and nearly a third of all container traffic. Despite a dense concentration of foreign military bases in the area, the Houthis have repeatedly attacked, sunk, or seized vessels—especially those they claim are tied to Israel. As a result, Bab el-Mandeb has become one of the most dangerous shipping lanes on the planet.
This example drives home a simple truth: countries with access to maritime trade routes hold a strategic lever of influence, regardless of their economic or military muscle. For landlocked nations, that kind of leverage is far harder to come by.
The UN identifies four major hurdles facing developing landlocked countries: steep trade costs driven by transit fees and tangled logistics; dependency on transit states whose political or economic instability can choke off access to the sea; weak integration into global supply chains; and structural and institutional shortcomings.
To address this imbalance, the UN backed the creation of the Group of Landlocked Developing Countries in 2001. Two years later, the first dedicated conference in Almaty produced the Almaty Declaration and an action plan aimed at developing transit transport systems and codifying the right of such states to free access to seaports. That right has been enshrined since the 1982 UN Convention on the Law of the Sea, which calls for agreements with transit nations to secure passage.
On paper, landlocked states enjoy equal rights to navigation, fishing, laying undersea cables, and operating fleets under their own flag—even if those fleets are based in foreign ports. In practice, these rights are often undercut by tariffs, bureaucracy, and political risk.
In 2014, the second conference in Vienna adopted a 10-year action program running through 2024, designed as a systemic tool to integrate these countries into global trade. Many of its goals, however, hit the same roadblocks they had a decade earlier.
The third conference in Awaza came with a dual mandate: to lock in the gains of earlier programs and to adapt them to a new geopolitical reality—one where economic isolation increasingly stems not from geography alone, but from sanctions policy. In 2014, threats to maritime transit were mostly an abstract talking point; by 2025, they had become tangible and politically charged.
Belarus offers a striking example of how a landlocked country can find itself cut off from external trade routes—not by nature, but by deliberate political moves. Just ahead of the Turkmenistan forum, Belarusian Foreign Ministry spokesman Anatoly Glaz accused the Baltic states of intentionally blocking Belarus’s access to the sea in violation of the UN Convention on the Law of the Sea. He pointed to restrictions on using terminals at the Port of Klaipeda, arguing they not only damage Minsk’s economic interests but also distort global markets—fertilizers, for instance. Rising prices and shortages, in turn, hit countries already struggling with food insecurity.
The contrast with recent history is sharp. In 2014, free from sanctions, Belarus suddenly became a major supplier of shrimp to Russia. Technically, it was re-export through Belarusian territory, but the arrangement allowed Minsk to offset its landlocked status with nimble logistics and trade partnerships. Those doors have since slammed shut, and the era of “Belarusian shrimp” is now just a footnote.
But the problems facing landlocked states go far beyond seafood or niche exports. For Central Asia, Armenia, and Belarus alike, the real cost of geographic isolation is measurable. International analysts estimate that trade operations in these countries are, on average, 74 percent more expensive than in nations with seaports, while border crossings and delivery times take nearly twice as long.
It’s also worth noting that the Awaza conference wasn’t about all landlocked states, but specifically the developing ones—a distinction that shaped the agenda. As of 2023, there were 44 landlocked countries in the world, 32 of them classified as developing. The other 12 are developed, mostly in Europe. Even these numbers are somewhat fluid, since the list includes partially recognized states and territories with disputed international status.
For developed countries, being landlocked is rarely a make-or-break factor. Microstates like Luxembourg, Liechtenstein, San Marino, or the Vatican aren’t built around maritime trade to begin with. Larger European nations such as Austria and Hungary are firmly embedded in the EU’s single market, where borders and customs barriers are essentially non-existent. Their proximity to major consumer hubs, well-developed transport networks, and access to navigable rivers offset any logistical handicap.
It’s a different story for developing nations outside Europe. Their remoteness from major trade arteries, dependence on transit countries, and underbuilt infrastructure turn the lack of sea access into a constant drag on growth. It’s no coincidence that the UN’s 2000 Millennium Declaration specifically recognized these countries’ unique needs and the necessity of international support to integrate them into the global economy.
Even within the developing world, the playing field isn’t level. In Central Asia, Kazakhstan and Turkmenistan enjoy certain advantages. They may lack a direct route to the world’s oceans, but their Caspian Sea coastlines link them to Russia’s Unified Deep-Water System—a network of rivers and canals connecting to the Black, Baltic, and White Seas. Designed for vessels up to 10,000 tons, it allows these countries to operate full-fledged maritime fleets for foreign trade, albeit via Russian transit.
The third LLDC conference in Awaza tackled a wide spectrum of issues, blending long-standing challenges with new ones. On the table were sustainable investment, transport infrastructure, digitalization, debt relief, trade liberalization, tariff policy, green technologies, environmental security, and the construction of ports, terminals, and logistics hubs.
Opening the forum, UN Secretary-General António Guterres set the tone: “Geography should not dictate the destiny of nations.” His call was echoed by Kazakhstan’s President Kassym-Jomart Tokayev, who stressed the importance of climate priorities and expanding transport corridors. Kazakhstan, as a critical Eurasian transit hub, handles nearly 85 percent of overland cargo between Asia and Europe—meaning every improvement in this sector directly boosts its economic resilience.
Tajikistan’s President Emomali Rahmon focused on the urgent need to digitalize and align trade and customs procedures with WTO norms. Turkmenistan’s President Serdar Berdimuhamedov floated the idea of a global program for developing hydrogen energy and reminded attendees of his country’s initiative to shift toward a circular economy that minimizes waste and reuses resources.
Uzbekistan’s President Shavkat Mirziyoyev zeroed in on the hard numbers: high transport costs drain up to 2 percent of the region’s GDP annually, while logistics in Central Asia consume about 60 percent of the value of goods—several times the global average. His remedies included standardizing container shipping rules, optimizing tariffs, negotiating a global transit guarantee agreement, creating a Logistics Integration Support Fund, and establishing an International Vulnerability Index for Landlocked Countries.
Kyrgyzstan’s Prime Minister Adylbek Kasymaliev was blunt: despite two decades of effort, earlier goals remain unmet. But, he argued, the new 2024–2034 action plan offers a chance to fix mistakes, leverage lessons learned, and chart a more durable growth strategy.
Umberto de Pretto, Secretary General of the International Road Transport Union, pointed to the systemic losses caused by cargo delays at borders. He urged wider adoption of the TIR Convention, which allows goods to move across frontiers without inspection. Despite its simplicity and proven efficiency, a significant number of LLDCs have yet to implement it.
The conference wrapped up with the adoption of two cornerstone documents—the Awaza Program of Action for 2024–2034 and the Awaza Political Declaration—meant to serve as the blueprint for overhauling logistics and deepening economic integration for the world’s landlocked states.
The nuts and bolts of the Awaza Program took center stage at a Private Sector Forum organized with the support of UNIDO, the UN Global Compact, and the International Telecommunication Union. Here, the conversation shifted from lofty declarations to actionable strategies where businesses and governments could move in sync.
The first priority: investment and sustainable development. Participants underscored the need to ramp up financing for renewable energy and tech innovations that could cut dependence on fossil fuels while boosting economic competitiveness.
The second pillar was digital transformation. Building high-speed internet infrastructure, rolling out electronic documentation systems, and automating customs procedures, delegates argued, could slash transaction costs and dismantle layers of red tape that currently throttle trade.
Logistics and regional integration formed the third major track. Creating LLDC blocs, developing unified procedures, and harmonizing regulatory frameworks were seen as the key to reducing transit costs. Strengthening ties with the WTO to tailor global trade rules to the realities of landlocked economies was a prominent theme.
Another focal point: forging partnerships with transit states. Joint projects to upgrade transport hubs, build roads, ports, and terminals, and streamline transit procedures could dramatically shorten delivery times and bring down costs.
Environmental sustainability, climate action, and climate finance also received strong attention. For LLDCs—especially in Asia and Africa—climate change poses an immediate threat to water supplies, agriculture, and food security. Pollution, glacier melt, and land degradation demand resource-efficient technologies and smarter farming methods.
Discussions also touched on the promise of circular economies—maximizing resource reuse—and on food security in volatile global markets.
Overall, participants hailed the Third LLDC Conference as a success but stressed that the roadmap is just the opening move. The real challenge lies in execution in a rapidly shifting global environment where political crises and technological disruption can upend baseline assumptions overnight.
In geopolitics and economics, there are no “minor” countries—only untapped resources and unrealized potential. Awaza made one thing clear: landlocked nations have no intention of sitting on the sidelines of global trade. They are charting their own routes, forging new alliances, and demanding the global system acknowledge their unique realities.
But their success will hinge not on the number of declarations signed, but on their ability to turn those commitments into working systems. The world is being rapidly reconfigured: sea lanes face mounting security threats, supply chains are splintering under the weight of sanctions, and climate change is turning traditional economic models into fragile constructs. For LLDCs, the task is to walk the fine line between political vulnerability and strategic advantage.
If these countries can turn geographic confinement into a driver for innovation, resilient logistics, and mutually beneficial partnerships, the mantra “geography is not destiny” will stop being a poetic flourish and become a rule of 21st-century global economics. If they can’t, their fate will still be drawn not by their own hand—but by someone else’s maps and someone else’s borders.