Sunken vessels have always lured the adventure-minded since people first went to sea in ships. That grew exponentially after Europeans began travelling to the Americas in the 16th century and boatloads of treasures, in both coin and raw product, plied the Atlantic Ocean giving rise to the age of piracy. Pirates may be mostly gone now, but sunken ships still offer a trove of archeological finds and legacy bragging rights.

Such discoveries contain not just sought-after bounties, but are often the final resting place of sailors and soldiers who served their countries and deserve the respect and protection offered to war graves.

A shipwreck, whether sunk due to weather, military action, sabotage or poor navigation, faces enough threats. These lost vessels are at the mercy of ocean currents, tides, ice, pollution, marine life and the actions of other ships. How well preserved a wreck is often depends on its depth, the water temperature and the salt content of the sea.

Steel ships, such as most of those used in the First and Second world wars, disintegrate quickly in salt water, especially if sea worms can reach them. Meanwhile, deep freshwater in the Great Lakes has acted to preserve wooden ships of older wars, but they, too, are threatened by masses of zebra mussels, whose combined weight can break a ship up.

Such relics have had a certain amount of protection over the centuries because of the depth and temperature of the water they rest in. But the late 17th-early 18th century Age of Reason ushered in an era of scientific exploration of every surface people could reach.

A ship that sinks with people aboard is considered a grave. This takes on more meaning when those who died were engaged in matters of military importance.

Technology soon allowed scientists and archeologists the chance to access the wrecks. Many were ruthlessly salvaged to adorn museums and personal collections. Generally, such efforts were conducted under various salvage laws based on the principle that any individual who helps recover a ship and/or its cargo is entitled to a reward equivalent to the value of the resources retrieved.

Another principle developed by sailors since the age of sail is that a ship that sinks with people aboard, whether crew or passengers, is to be considered a grave and should be left in peace.

This concept takes on even more meaning when those who died were serving as sailors, soldiers or civilians engaged in matters of military importance. Such vessels aren’t just warships. Many are civilian, too, such as the merchant marine that was so vital to Britain’s survival in both world wars. They are also civilian passenger liners, seconded into service to ferrying military across the oceans.

They are all war dead and deserve the utmost respect, like that inherent in the beautifully tended cemeteries of the Commonwealth War Graves Commission around the world.

At Canada’s most famous war grave, the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier in Ottawa, there’s a sign posted during tourist season that says: “Silence and Respect.” The fact that these ships and their passengers lie deep in water assures the silence, but it takes society to ensure the respect.

One of the great privileges, and burdens, of being human is the ability to love, feel empathy and create bonds so potent that they become a magnet guiding a person’s moral compass. Paradoxically, those feelings can also lead to some of the most punishing pain a person can endure. The loss can leave a hole bigger than its presence. To help fill such voids and come to terms with death, cultures throughout history have had ceremonies and burials.

The act of burying one’s dead in a known and sacred spot so that loved ones can commune and pay tribute near the remains of the deceased can be traced as far back as to the Neanderthals who, over 100,000 years ago, left evidence of thoughtful burials, which was seemingly more than just a sanitary practice. It’s obvious why similar rituals are seen consistently among different groups.

Having an official grave closes the gap between those traversing the mortal plane and those who aren’t. People whose bodies aren’t found, whether they’ve been lost at sea or are missing in action, leave a physical void behind. A burial is a conscious act of laying to rest a body in a specific area, and when a ship goes down and people are at the mercy of the ocean there is no burial and no grave to be marked. No ceremony to be had at the site. So no, Canada doesn’t need to mark any sunken ships as war graves. In some ways an ocean war grave is an oxymoron.

Their final resting place belongs to the ocean, which will move it as it sees fit. It isn’t static.

It would be a shame to gloss over what shipwreck victims actually sacrifice so those left behind can have a proper funeral and burial with the body of loved ones. Their final resting place belongs to the ocean, which will move it as it sees fit. It isn’t static.

Instead, Canada should update the memorials that commemorate those who die at sea and include their names and the co-ordinates of where the ship went down and where it is now. Families aren’t going to go out on the water to pay respects. Designating vessels sunk in war as war graves is simply symbolic, and the symbolism doesn’t have the desired effect. The government can still protect the sunken ships and their contents by making it illegal to dive or take anything without authorization.

Note, too, we aren’t talking about recovering these people’s bodies. Many of them may no longer even be there as we imagine, since sea creatures have no doubt had their way. It’s another grim reality of war. The people who have served the armed forces and went under without reemerging to the smell of saltwater air knew that this was possible.

These people are some of the best and bravest. They deserve every honour they earned and every painful sacrifice they and their families made should be humbly remembered. But making their final resting place an official war grave won’t do that.