An Atlas of Countries That Don't Exist

by Nick Middleton

  None of which will make the Catalan question go away. With their own ancient language and a distinct history stretching back into the Middle Ages, a sizeable number of Catalans consider themselves a nation that is separate from the rest of Spain. That detachment is still fuelled by bitter memories of General Franco’s thirty-six-year dictatorship, in which Catalonia endured a cruel and systematic attempt to obliterate her culture.

  This north-eastern region of Spain has enjoyed the hallmarks of independence before. They had a constitution until the eighteenth century, and their own parliament, twice, in the twentieth. They even managed to proclaim Catalan independence in October 1934, but it lasted just ten hours before the Spanish army restored order. Within a few years, General Franco had taken over.

  Currently, with the return of democracy confirmed under the Spanish Constitution of 1978, Catalonia enjoys a high level of self-government. It runs its own schools, police force, health care system and cultural institutions. But for some Catalans at least, this is not enough.

  SEBORGA

  Principality declared independent from Italy after a referendum in 1995.

  The head of the local flower-growers cooperative is a placid figure. Giorgio Carbone is an avid smoker with a rugged face and a big black beard. He grows mimosa flowers and lives in a small hilltop town in north-western Italy, an ancient jumble of narrow cobbled streets, wooden shutters and wrought-iron balconies.

  Mr Carbone spends many hours in state and church archives painstakingly reconstructing the town’s thousand years of history. In 1079, Seborga is designated a principality of the Holy Roman Empire. It remains independent for more than six centuries, until it is sold to the House of Savoy, a transaction that is not registered. This error is subsequently compounded. When the great powers of Europe meet to settle the boundaries of the continent at the Congress of Vienna in 1815, Seborga is not mentioned. When the many small states on the Italian peninsula are unified to form Italy in 1861, Seborga is not mentioned. In 1946, after the abdication of the last Savoy king, Victor Emmanuel II, Italy becomes a republic, but Seborga is not mentioned.

  In 1995, Mr Carbone puts it to the good people of Seborga that their town is not, after all, a part of Italy. A local referendum confirms this stance and ratifies Seborga’s independence. The former head of the flower-growers cooperative accepts the honorific title of His Tremendousness, elected prince for life. Seborga’s sovereign has been elected since the Middle Ages, so this is a return to tradition. Their kindly ruler holds court at the Bianca Azzura bar, often wearing light blue sash, sword and rosette medallions. He travels in a black Mercedes with a Seborgan licence plate: number 0001. His Tremendousness passed away in 2009, but his loyal subjects carry on. They still pay taxes to Italy, but that state refuses to recognize the independent Principality of Seborga.

  TRANSNISTRIA

  Separatist region of Moldova, often portrayed in the West as a hotbed of crime and Stalinism.

  From Brussels, the EU bureaucrats see it as a black hole in Europe, a hub for money-laundering, people-trafficking and the illegal arms trade that seethes with epic tales of the criminal underworld, all beyond the reach of international law. Politically, they spy a time warp back to the days of the old Soviet Union, a place where the hammer and sickle continues to flutter in the corner of the national flag. A hawk-eyed statue of Lenin still graces the front of the parliament building in Tiraspol.

  Since separating from its neighbour and foe across the river – Moldova – this sliver of land on the left bank has been bolstered by Russia and a sense of collective victimization among its residents. More than 300 miles from the nearest Russian border, they see themselves as Russian people marooned by the collapse of the USSR. Back in the old days, fresh produce from ‘the Kremlin Garden’ north of Tiraspol was flown direct to Moscow every day. No surprise that outsiders simultaneously observe a Stalinist backwater and a criminal Ruritania.

  Yet order is maintained, thanks in large part to a shadowy public body known only as ‘the Sheriff’. Blurring the line between business and politics, the Sheriff steers a course between chaos and prosperity, navigating the passage from state socialism to state capitalism. It is a private enterprise with political clout. Some call it the economic arm of the state, owning petrol stations and supermarket chains, a mobile phone network and the country’s leading football club, FC Sheriff Tiraspol. To the uninitiated, Sheriff and Transnistria appear as one. It is the largest employer and the Sheriff’s badges appear on almost every building. The name reflects the previous occupation of its two founders, former agents of state security. As its website proudly declares, the Sheriff is ‘Always with you!’

  RUTHENIA

  Republic for a day in March 1939.

  The Battle of Krasne Pole was a short-lived encounter, a David and Goliath affair, only without the counter-intuitive ending. Ruthenian forces took up their position on a plain on the north side of the Tysa River, a tributary of the mighty Danube. They would defend their fledgling republic, against the might of the Hungarian army, at the strategic Veriatsk Bridge.

  The defenders were a hotch-potch of poorly equipped patriots, joined by school students and their teacher. A few sat expectantly in the snow behind Maxim machine guns; most were armed with hunting rifles. Across the river lay a vastly superior Hungarian force, supported by tanks, armoured vehicles and an air force. This was the first resistance they had met since crossing the unguarded border, under authorization from Germany, invading Ruthenia.

  It was 15 March 1939. Beneath the red volcanic hills of the Carpathians, the shooting began. Some claim these as the first shots of World War II.

  Only that morning, a dozen kilometres upstream in the town of Khust, a new republic had been created. Its president was a Greek Catholic bishop and man of letters. Among his works, a practical grammar of the Ruthenian language. He was an apt guardian of Ruthenian culture and identity. Independence was declared. Men in dark suits and stiff white collars applauded the announcement from wooden benches. At sunrise, they had been part of Czechoslovakia. By lunchtime they had their own nation-state. By evening, they had disappeared into the clutches of a budding Nazi empire.

  In 1945, Ruthenia’s president for a day was arrested by the Soviet secret police, and died soon after in a Moscow jail. His short-lived republic vanished into westernmost Ukraine, but the ghost of independence lives on. More than half a century later, revivalists once more demand Ruthenian self-determination.

  SEALAND

  Founded in 1967 on the high seas about 7 nautical miles east of the UK.

  Joan Bates and her son Michael are afraid, but they know that if they keep their nerve the men in the ship below, bobbing rhythmically on the North Sea swell, cannot board their island fortress. It is night-time and it is cold. It is always cold on the bleak, 20-metre-high platform. Sometimes Joan is so cold she feels faint while hanging out the washing.

  Built in 1943 by the Royal Navy, the concrete-and-steel platform was equipped with antiaircraft guns to shoot down Luftwaffe planes. Abandoned after the war, it eventually came to the attention of Joan’s husband Roy, a former infantry major and owner of a chain of butchers’ shops, who was looking for a new challenge. Roy quickly took up residence to broadcast pop music, a classic Sixties ‘pirate radio station’ lying just outside British territorial waters, safe from prosecution.

  In time a court case arose nonetheless, with Joan’s son, Michael, the accused. When an auxiliary vessel working on a nearby buoy sailed too close, foul language bloomed in the cold air. The situation escalated, and Michael fired warning gunshots across their bow. The vessel raced away, back to the Thames estuary, but the next time Michael set foot on the mainland he was arrested and put on trial for firearms offences. After much deliberation, the case was dismissed. In summing up, the judge described it as ‘a swashbuckling incident perhaps more akin to the time of Sir Francis Drake’, but noted that his court had no jurisdiction because Sealand lies outside British territorial waters
.

  The Bates family returned to their island stronghold, content with what they saw as Sealand’s first de facto recognition. Roy, Prince of Sealand, passed away in 2012, but his legacy reached a fourth generation of Sealand royalty two years later with the birth of Prince Freddy, a grandson for Michael.

  CRIMEA

  Peninsula where independence has been declared four times in a century.

  Margarita Pobudilova emerges from the high-rise office block and shuffles past a long queue of fellow citizens, anxiously awaiting news about their savings. For Mrs Pobudilova, a retired factory worker, the wait continues. Her money will not be returned today.

  She invested her life savings in a one-month bond in February but by the time her investment matured, the Crimean peninsula had declared independence from Ukraine and been annexed by the Russian Federation. Ukraine’s currency was banned and the Ukrainian bank holding Mrs Pobudilova’s deposit was forced to close. Mrs Pobudilova’s money has not been accessible since.

  History repeats itself. In the late eighteenth century, after the Russo-Turkish War, Crimeans enjoyed nominal independence until their peninsula was annexed by Catherine the Great. In acquiring a warm water port for her navy, she rode roughshod over the people who had controlled Crimea for 500 years: the Crimean Tatars.

  Originally from Central Asia, the Crimean Tatars have suffered greatly at the hands of Russia. Crushed by the Red Army in 1917 and 1918, in 1944 Stalin accused the entire Tatar race of treason and deported them back to Central Asia in cattle cars. He settled Russians on their land instead.

  By the time those Crimean Tatars still surviving were allowed home after forty-five years in exile, Crimea was predominantly Russian and had been handed to Ukraine as a gift. After the Soviet Union disintegrated, in 1992 Crimea’s Russian leaders announced their separation from Ukraine, but changed their minds five days later. In 2014, the same decision was met with the same Ukrainian disapproval. This time, their secession lasted just a day, but with a different ending. Crimea was absorbed back into Mother Russia.

  All of which cuts little ice with Mrs Pobudilova and others. They just want access to their bank accounts.

  SOMALILAND

  Independence declared in 1991 with the boundaries of the former British Somaliland Protectorate.

  Sitting cross-legged on a coarse camel-hair carpet, Sayyid Mohamed Abdille Hassan was writing a letter to the grand foreign power attempting to colonize his homeland. It was 1904 and his Dervish army had been waging a holy war against the British for three years. A master of guerrilla tactics, from the saddle of his favourite horse – SOUND OF FLYING GRAVEL – he tormented a force that was larger and better equipped. He drew the seasoned British troops into the arid furnace of Somaliland, terrain that was familiar to the Dervishes.

  The struggle had been bloody but inconclusive, so Sayyid Mohamed changed tactics. An eloquent poet as well as a visionary leader, he poured his soul into lyrical prose.

  I HAVE NO CULTIVATED FIELDS, NO SILVER OR GOLD … IF YOU WANT WOOD AND STONE, YOU CAN GET THEM IN PLENTY. THERE ARE ALSO MANY ANT-HEAPS. ALL YOU CAN GET FROM ME IS WAR – NOTHING ELSE. IF YOU WISH FOR WAR, I AM HAPPY. BUT IF YOU WISH FOR PEACE, GO AWAY FROM MY COUNTRY BACK TO YOUR OWN.

  The invaders did not leave what they called the British Somaliland Protectorate. The man they dubbed the ‘Mad Mullah of Somaliland’ continued his stubborn defiance for another decade and more before succumbing to Unit Z of the newly formed RAF – one of the first uses of air power to crush an insurgency.

  It was not until 1960 that the infidel usurpers finally left Somali territory. British Somaliland became independent for five days before joining the former Italian Somaliland to create the Somali Republic. Sayyid Mohamed’s poetry is still taught to Somali children, but his dream of national unity was not to be. Persecuted by southerners, Somaliland seceded after a civil war, reverting in 1991 to the boundaries drawn by the infidels.

  MAYOTTE

  Indian Ocean island, claimed by Comoros, that chose to forgo independence from France in 1975.

  Self-determination was not supposed to work like this. In its declaration on decolonization, the United Nations was clear on the matter. It solemnly proclaimed the need for an unconditional end to colonialism in all its forms. In the latter half of the twentieth century, the four islands in the Comoros archipelago joined the march towards African independence, though not all marched at the same speed. In a referendum in 1974, an overwhelming majority of votes were in favour of independence from French rule. But nearly all the ‘no’ votes were cast on the island of Mayotte, where a majority wanted to remain part of France.

  After more than a century of European colonial rule, the Comoros declared independence in 1975 for the whole archipelago, including Mayotte. The UN granted the new country membership; all four islands that is. To do otherwise would have threatened the new state’s territorial integrity. This well-established principle was seen as a stabilizing influence during periods of decolonization: each new state would inherit the boundaries of colonies on independence. To allow otherwise would be an invitation to fragmentation and potential chaos.

  France duly granted independence to three of the four islands – but retained Mayotte. Faced with international disapproval, another referendum was organized and again Mayotte voted to stay French. There was no doubt, it seemed. The people of Mayotte preferred to be marginalized by a European capital 8,000 kilometres away rather than by their own kinsmen on the next island. The UN dismissed the referenda as contrary to international law. France stood fast.

  The stalemate continued, annually in the UN chamber, as Mayotte consolidated her position. She worked her way up through the administrative categories to become a fully fledged département of France. In 2014, the island became an official part of the European Union. Self-determination in this case has produced a very postmodern colony.

  AZAWAD

  Saharan republic for less than a year.

  This was not the first armed uprising. The Tuareg have resisted foreign rule for a long time.

  During colonial times, Alla ag Albachir refused to obey the French administration. A great chief and local hero, they say that when he approached a well even the trees would move aside. In the 1960s, after the French left, his son led the Tuareg uprising against their inclusion within the state of Mali. His camel-borne warriors would swoop down from Saharan mountains to ambush army patrols, only to disappear once more in a haze of dust.

  The second rebellion, rekindled in 1990, flared for six years until a ceremonial burning of weapons in the marketplace at Timbuktu. Ten years after this ‘Flame of Peace’, former rebels took up arms again, igniting a third rebellion. By this time, the insurgents were clear about what they wanted: an independent Tuareg state.

  Traditionally nomadic herders ranging throughout the Sahara, these are not conventional Muslims. Known by outsiders as the Blue People because of their indigo-dyed robes, the Tuareg retain many customs and rites that predate their conversion to Islam. Their society is matrilineal, inheritance and descent following the female line. It is the men who veil their faces in front of women, not the other way around.

  Veiled fighters realized their dream of a Saharan homeland in the uprising of 2012, announcing their new state to the world in a modern manner: simultaneously on their website and in a Paris television studio. But the dream was short-lived. Concerns over radical Islamist militias prompted the return of the French army, and Tuaregs to withdraw their independence claim. The ‘war on terror’ allows Mali once more to suppress northern discontent, but they cannot silence the past. This was not the first Tuareg uprising. It is unlikely to be the last.

  CABINDA

  Former Portuguese protectorate recognized as the thirty-ninth African territory to be decolonized by the Organization of African Unity before being annexed by Angola.

  Malongo is a gated community. It is a small town, largely inhabited by American ex-pats, with its own electricity, running water, golf cou
rse and shopping zones. An on-site greenhouse grows produce for their mess hall salad bar. Egrets strut the manicured lawns and fruit bats roost in the branches of the baobab trees.

  Malongo is an enclave within an enclave. It is enclosed within the province of Cabinda, itself swallowed by Angola, although separated from the rest of that country by a strip of the Democratic Republic of Congo. From the beach and high points in Tchiowa or Cabinda city, you can see why Malongo is here. Stretched out across the horizon are the oil platforms and their bright orange flares – where day and night the Cabinda Gulf Oil Company Ltd pumps oil from beneath the Atlantic Ocean.

  The foreign residents of Malongo seldom drive beyond the gates of their community. When they want to leave, the Company runs a helicopter service to the international airport. Malongo is surrounded by minefields, helicopter gunship patrols and concentric barbed-wire fences. This is because Malongo is a target for Captain Bonga-Bonga and his men.

  The captain is a hero in Cabinda. A soldier for most of his life, in the 1970s he fought for Angola against Portugal, the colonial power. Now he fights for his homeland, Cabinda. The hit-and-run tactics he learned against the Portuguese now serve him against Angola. He is a charismatic leader. He once freed sixty-nine prisoners, including seven of his own guerrillas, from the Cabinda city jail without a shot being fired. The city’s jailors knew his grievance was not with them but with the Angolan government. The captain fights for the people of Cabinda, who see few benefits from the oil extracted from beneath their shores by the foreign inhabitants of Malongo.