Brave New Worlds

Ian MacLeod explores sovereign states that have established themselves in cyberspace and people's minds, if not in the real world.

Ian MacLeod
The Ottawa Citizen

Empires that don't exist on any map are rising up in cyberspace and challenging the old-world view of what constitutes a nation. Dozens of new communities called cybernations, from the Republic of Lomar to the Principality of Corvinia, now claim to be sovereign territories on the Internet. Many are little more than entertaining Web sties for adolescent role-playing. Another is accused by U.S. officials of being a rogue cyberstate engaging in questionable banking activities.

But others are far more serious. They have constitutions, governments, flags, passports, currency, stamps and, in some cases, constructed languages and cultures.

And, now, at elast one or two are bent on someday gaining international recognition as true sovereign states as cyberspace redefines civilization, including the chief historical prerequisite for nationhood status -- the concept of physical territory.

There has never been a non-territorial sovereign state. But consider this: the Vatican mini-state already derivesits authority more form its vast spiritual territory than from the spot of land it rules in Rome. And the microchip is quickly creating new an concentrated global powers with fabulous wealth, such as Microsoft and its chairman, Bill Gates.

Could the world someday accept a micronation of cybercits whose sovereign turf is a URL on a microcircuit? "That is an interesting idea, (but) I don't know wheter the world is ready for virtual nations just yet," says Farhan Haq, a spokesman at the United Nations headquarters in New York City.

Denis Smyth, a professor of history and international relations at the University of Toronto, agrees. Still, he says, "one would be foolish to not recognize that (the computer revolution) must have soe kind of implications for how we caluculate power, how we assess the distribution of sovereignty."

Whether that ever happens, cybernations have some very practical issues to address first. For starters, an enemy computer hacker could conceivably wipe out an entire nation with a few keystrokes. And since most cybercits are young men, propogating the nation could be difficult. Of course. there'll also be the painful political transition form the pretend world to figuring out where to set the tax rate.

One of the most ambitious micronations is the Principality of Freedonia (www.freedonia.org), a constitutional monarchy of almost 200 cybercits ruled by Prince John I and his cabinet ministers from the Embassy of Freedonia. The embassy is his dormitory room at college, where he studies finance.

Freedonians can be found around the world, including about a dozen Canadians with dual citizenship. They are ultra-libertarians.

"I'm sure the vast majority of people see us as insane or crazy for wanting to pursue something like this," says John I. "The idea of creating a new nation basd on some high principles is not really any more ridiculous today than, say, in 1776 when the American Founding Fathers decided to do just that and form a new government and a new nation absed on their political philosophy of the time."

But unlike other landless cybernations, Freedonians are working toward true territorial micronationhood and recognition from the international community.

They've seriously explored the possibilities of having a cruise shipo or artificial island, constructed from floating platforms, anchored in international waters in the Caribbean or Pacific Ocean.

Now, John I and one of his ministers expect to meet this summer with officials of the Republic of Somaliland, which declared independence from Somalia in 1991. They plan to discuss a project that would see Freedonia granted a small piece of land in exchange for bringing investors together to construct a toll highway through Somaliland.

The new Freedonia would be a capitalist paradise. "We want to be able to practise our system of government that would be welcoming to corporations and manufacturing concerns of the world," says John I.

Money is now being raised for his mission by exchanging newly minted Freedonian coins for real dollars.

Meanwhile, The Republic of Lomar (www.republic-of-lomar.org), administered by a handful of young high-tech professionals spread from California's Silicon Valley to Europe, claims to be the world's largest micronation, with 4,000 cybercits in 80 countries, including about 50 in Canada.

Despite its size, "We still have people who say, 'Where are you on the map?'" says Chancellor Laurent Cleenewerck, one of Lomar's founders and a dual citizen of France.

Lomar is an altruistic place. It's motto is "Empowering our citizens and partner States through knowledge, technology and development" and it is dedicated to supporting humanitarian causes. It has even been issuing authentic-looking passports to refugees, stateless people and others. The republic was legally incorporated in 1998 as a non-profit foundation in the state of Deleware and plans to hold its first elections this fall.

It's also about to start selling its own postage stamps, from which a percentage of the revenue will be donated to the Tibetan government-in-exile.

Unlike Freedonia, Lomar wants world recognition strictly as a non-territorial cybernation. In the Internet age, Lomarians believe citizenship sould no longer be tied to where a person is born and that nations should be allowed to form electronically across traditional borders and oceans.

The internet, says Mr. Cleenewerck, 31, "is an unstoppable phenomenon -- cyberspace (is evolving) into something that is beyond the national concept.

"We don't want to acquire an island or something like that. The whole concept of Lomar is that the sense of being a citizen of something -- the right to vote, to travel -- shouldn't be according to where you were born. We can move beyond that at this point in history."

Lomar also wants to go beyond offering simple virtual citizenship.

"We really believe that, through the Internet, we can have a real set of services (such as consulates for Lomarian travellers) that would be competitive with other citizenships, even though we don't want to be a competition to local involvement in terms of citizenship. You can still be a Canadian citizen involved in you local life and still embrace the view that the Internet brings you beyond that."

Mr. Cleenewerk says Lomarian passports have already been used to enter Cuba and Russia. "One of our officials was in Russia working on a computer security project and was granted a visa on his diplomatic (Lomar) passport.

"We hope that, within two to three years, we'll have agreements with the UN member states to travel on the passport. Right now, people can apple for visas on the Lomar passport but there's no guarantee they will be accepted."

Perhaps the most sophisticated and cultured cybernation is the tiny Kingdom of Talossa (www.talossa.com), the creation of hight school debating coach Robert Ben Madison -- King Robert I -- of Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Talossa was founded in 1979 when then 14-year-old Bobby Madison declared his bedroom to be the independent state of Talossa, a Finnish world meaning "inside the house".

With the advent of the Internet, Talossa blossomed into cybernation and now lays claim to 13 square kilometeres on east side Milwaukee and has 65 citizens around the world, including four in Canada. The U.S. State Department, says King Robert, has ignored official Talossan letteres declaring its sovereignty, which Talossa interprets as de facto recognition.

"We say that we are as independent as we possibly can be without breaking any laws," says King Robert, now 34. "Of course, in the big picture, that means we're not very independent at all."

Talossans are not interested in getting other countries to recognize them. But they are very serious about their country. They've constructed a 25,000-word language and dictionary, a mythical history about the days of the ancient Talossan empire and have several political parties. Talossa also claims a chunch of Antarctica called Pengopats.

In 1996, it "relinquished" its colony of Cezembre, an island off the coast of Brittany.

Talossa does not sell passports or stamps and has adopted U.S. currency as its own. Its citizens are remarkably involved, woth more than half of them active in the country's legislature.

"It's a place where people can do national level things in an environment that is accessible," says King Robert. "It's a community where it's smal lenough for yoru voice to be heard but it's big enough that when your voice is heard it makes a real difference."

Dave Fauteux, 19, a Gatineau college student, is one of four Talossans living in Canada.

"It's the community of people, that's what's interesting." he explains. "It's also kind of a political proving ground. That's kind of fun, testing your ideas. We 'feel' like a nation, but to say that we're a real nation ...

"But we can still dream."

Concludes David Welch, a professor of political science at the University of Toronto: "I would characterize my views as sort of middle of the road between the people who think this utterly ridiculous over the very long term and the people who think that this is the wave of the future and it's on our doorstep now.

"I think it's very entertaining. When Lomar has a long list of countries that recognize it, then I'll start taking it seriously."