This morning I read a hilarious article in The New York Times from Feb. 1 entitled "Rewards for Rebellion: Tiny Nation and Crown for Life," and it has inspired this week's column to be slightly unorthodox. I'm going to write about leaders of countries that do not actually exist. Huh?
Apparently, an Australian man named Leonard Casley in 1970 decided to form his own country in the middle of the state of Western Australia. Cassley's micronation, officially known as the Principality of Hutt River, exists on 18,500 acres of farmland and seceded from Australia 41 years ago as a form of protest against a government wheat−production quota.
I remembered once reading of other similar micronations in the United States on my favorite website, Wikipedia. So I decided to do a little bit of research. It turns out there are over fifty such micronations around the world with names such as Freetown Christiana, Conch Republic, Haye−on−Wye and British West Florida. These micronations have flags, currencies, passports, national anthems and sometimes declare war on other micronations. Are you laughing yet? Oh wait, I forgot to mention — sometimes they declare war on real nations. Surely you must be laughing now.
I'd love to tell you about all of these nutcase "world leaders," people who clearly have been playing a bit too much Risk. But alas, a 630−word column would not do them all justice. Instead I will just pick one.
Here's a good one. At 88 years old, Paddy Roy Bates, the Prince of the Principality of Sealand, must be one of the oldest micronation leaders in the world. Maybe he is senile. But if he is, he has been since 1967, when he founded Sealand by occupying a Maunsell Army Sea Fort in the North Sea. The British established these forts during World War II, and pictures, which I strongly encourage you to check out, indicate that they are no larger than the Tisch Library roof. Which makes me wonder…
But I digress. Let me complete my brief history of Sealand for you. After the war, Army Sea Forts were re−appropriated as pirate radio broadcast stations. Prince Roy was a pirate radio broadcaster (maybe his eccentricity was already clear — I mean, who in their right mind is a pirate radio broadcaster?) and one fine day, he decided to make the HM Fort Roughs his own. Bizarre. Contemporary politics in Sealand are fascinating. Will Prince Roy's son, Prince Michael, ascend to the throne upon his father's death, or will one of Sealand's citizens (according to Answers.com, the population rarely exceeds five) speak out against this undemocratic transition of power?
As ridiculous as his claim to sovereignty may be, however, this "world leader" has won several rather impressive minor victories of recognition. After a brief skirmish (let's refrain from calling it a war) between Sealand and the British Royal Navy in 1968, a British court adjudged that it could not make a ruling on the case, as it extended beyond British territory. The implication of this ruling was recognition of Sealand's sovereignty. A famous day in the nation's rich history.
Admittedly though, the 1968 triumph pales in comparison to the unforgettable events of August 1978. Dutchmen working for a German businessman stormed Sealand and kidnapped Prince Michael. However, brilliant military tactician that he is, Prince Roy responded with a counterattack that ended with Germany sending a diplomat to the principality to win release of its citizen.
This week's column was in no way, shape or form was intended to offend the citizens of Hutt Province, Sealand or any other micronation. I feel I must say this, because if I were to get captured by the brute strength of a micronation's security apparatus, I would not be so sure the Indian Government would engage in crisis talks to win my release. E Mare Libertas! (The National Anthem of Sealand. Duh.)
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