Don't like where you live? Start your own country
There are dozens, possibly hundreds of micronations in the world. They are tiny self-declared countries recognized by no one except themselves.
It was late May 2023 and there were still several feet of snow in the mountains above Lake Tahoe but the snow thinned out and soon disappeared as I headed east on Highway 50 deeper into Nevada and down in elevation until I had left mountains entirely and was into the desert where it was warm and the sun beat down fiercely from a cobalt blue sky.
From Carson City, the state capital, I took the interstate headed south. The scenery quickly became rural, the land yellow and parched. After about 20 minutes, I exited and headed east again entering a residential area where the houses were compact and basic on small parcels of land.
My GPS app commanded me to turn left, then make another left. A short distance later, the disembodied GPS voice announced that I had arrived. I parked beside a dry ditch, got out and walked back toward a white wooden pole that was maybe10 feet tall. At the top one white arrow pointed north, which read USA. Next to it an arrow pointed south. It read: Molossia.
Standing at the base of the pole was a chubby, late middle-aged man who was smiling and greeting people. The man wore sunglasses, a peaked military-style hat and a green military tunic cinched by a belt. A green-purple-and-blue sash crossed his chest and over his left breast pocket was an impressive array of medals and ribbons. He looked like a parody of a military dictator, which was exactly the point.
The man in the eccentric outfit was Kenneth Baugh. He was (and still is) the president of Molossia, a self-declared country whose territory is the 30 acres of land he was standing in front of.
The Baughs pose for photos with a visitor to Molossia
Baugh and his wife, First Lady Mme. Adrianne Baugh, chatted with the handful of visitors, and a German reporter and camera crew that were loosely gathering at the US-Molossian border. Baugh happily posed for photos. He never for one moment broke character.
Eventually, President Baugh asked all of us to pull closer for our orientation and tour.
"A moment ago, you were in the United States," he declaimed. "Now we're in our own independent, sovereign nation."
Molossia is one of dozens, perhaps hundreds of micronations. WordAtlas.com defines a micronation as "an entity that claims to be a sovereign nation but is not recognized by any other government or major international organization." They are micro because the territory they claim tends to be small and their citizens few in number. Molossia, for example, says it has a population of 30 but that includes domestic pets
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Baugh gave us a brief history of Molossia.
“We declared this country ourselves on the 26th of May, 1977," he said. "Back then it was known as the Grand Republic of Vuldstein. I was the Prime Minister and my friend James was the king. He moved on to other things. I stayed with the idea of having my own country and when I obtained property in Nevada in 1998, I changed the name to Molossia and we've been going strong ever since."
Baugh and his wife led us to a wooden booth inside of which was a mannequin. He explained that the mannequin was Fred, the Molossian customs agent. He - Baugh - happily stamped the passports of those who had brought theirs. A few feet away were other wooden booths. The post office. The bank. The trading post.
When Baugh was done, his daughter, who appeared to be in her 20's and is the Molossian constable, briefed us on its regulations.
"It is illegal to cause a catastrophe," she said. "Torpedoes may not be set off in the country. Detonating a nuclear weapon will result in a fine. It is illegal to play a musical instrument in any bathroom." Among other things, Molossia also bans catfish, onions and spinach.
When I told a friend about Molossia, she had asked, "Is it serious or are they crazy?”
Lars Vilks, founder and first chancelor of Ladonia. photo credit: Government of Ladonia
One of the oldest existing micronations is Sealand, which is a platform in the North Sea seven miles off the coast of England. It was built by the British during World War Two as several anti-aircraft installations. In 1967, a British man commandeered the platform and to this day his family lives there.
Freetown Christiania is an abandoned military installation in Denmark. The Republic of Zaqistan, created by Zaq Landsberg in 2005, asserts sovereignty over a few acres of undeveloped land in Utah. The People's Republic of Slowjamistan, founded by a disc jockey, comprises a patch of desert in Southern California. The Royal Republic of Ladonia is a sculpture garden in Sweden. The Free Republic of Liberland is a three square mile slice of terrain wedged within a stretch of disputed border between Croatia and Serbia.
More than a few micronations claim as sovereign territory the houses in which their residents live. The nation of Excelsior has annexed a few rocks that surface from Long Island Sound. I was told one micronation is just a rock that its founder carries in a box.
When I spoke to President Baugh, he mentioned that he would be attending the biennial convention of representatives of other micronations that summer in Joliet, Illinois, outside of Chicago. I decided then and there that I would attend MicroCon, as the event is called.
MicroCon diplomatic reception, 2023
The evening of the first day of MicroCon, there was what was called a diplomatic reception at the home of Queen of Ladonia. It was steamy hot and thunderclouds were gathering on the horizon. I was suffering mightily in a suit and tie as I walked from the parking area to the house.
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Inside a living room air-conditioned to chilliness, the living room and dining area teemed with men and women sipping cold drinks, munching hors d'oeuvres as they chatted. Some people wore suits and dresses. Some wore formal attire. Quite a few men wore flamboyant uniforms. Several women had tiaras. The atmosphere was loose, festive and strange.
I circulated, introducing myself and talking to the various ... I'm not sure what to call them ... heads of state(?)
I met Christina Nowell, the Summi Imperatoria of Cycoldia, a micronation created five years inside of Houston. With a population of about 300, it is an hereditary monarchy. It has two official languages: English and Latin.
"We were created because we don't like Texas," she explained. "We were created out of dislike for the Texas government."
She's a graphic designer and said she was moving soon to London.
Jackson the First, King of Kasperburg, said he and his friends created their nation after reading online about microstates.
"I thought it would be fun to do," he said.
"What are your duties as king?" I asked.
"Talk to people," he said. "Run things. Really not a lot."
He said he has eleven subjects, none of them family members.
"Everyone in my family, they think it's weird," he said.
I asked if he could understand why they might think that.
He said, "Probably."
Standing beside him was his adjutant, Matthew Hughes, or rather Sir Matthew Hughes.He wore a military uniform so I asked what his rank was.
"Corporal," he said, paused, stammered and then corrected himself. "No, Colonel."
I spoke with Marianna - just Marianna - of Maristan, of which she was founder and CEO. Despite laying claim to no actual territory, she said, Maristan nevertheless embraced four basic principles.
"I defend sustainability," she said. "I defend access to education, I defend equal rights for women, I also defend ... I forgot what. I need to remember. Oh, and the economy."
Ernest Emmanuel of the Kingdom of Anethonia told me how he and four partners had purchased 40 acres of land in Nevada that would one day be the physical site of the micronation they envisioned.
"We are developing land and the prospect of tiny homes," he said. "That's the thing these days, you know. Tiny homes. I hope to provide living space for those who can't afford big homes. I always felt in my blood it was meant for me to do this."
I spoke briefly with a man named Rankin, who said he has been the chancellor of Slabovia - population 55 - for the past 40 years. I asked him where exactly Slabovia is located.
"We have a land claim on Mars," he said.
Queen Carolyn of Ladonia
I was granted an audience with Queen Carolyn of Ladonia, a cheerful woman who used to work in IT for the Chicago Tribune.
Ladonia has a fascinating and unusually contentious history. In the early 1980s, a Swedish sculptor named Lars Vilks began building wood and concrete sculptures in the Kullaberg Nature Reserve in the south of Sweden. The sculptures grew to contain 70 tons of driftwood before authorities noticed and tried to get them removed. Vilks filed suit to stop them, leading to a 10-year legal battle which Vilks ultimately lost. But Swedish authorities made no move to tear down the sculptures, which convinced Vilks he had won de facto control over the land. In 1997, he declared it the independent nation of Ladonia. Vilks was made chancellor and a queen was elected as official head of state under its constitution. there can only be a queen, no king).
Queen Carolyn, who had read about Ladonia in Wired magazine and signed up as a citizen, was elected queen in 2011 after the first queen, Ywonne, abdicated. Today, Ladonia remains uninhabited but it has over 29,000 "registered, nomadic citizens," who signed up via the internet
"Is this whole micronation thing serious or is it a joke?" I asked her as we stood beneath a formal portrait of her dressed in a powder blue capelet and wearing a crown atop her hair.
"It really depends on which nation you're talking about and who you are talking to," said Queen Carolyn. "There are some that are very, very serious. We're serious. However, we maintain a healthy sense of humor because what we do not want to do is be mistaken for crazy secessionists. No one wants secessionists on their border, so we do everything with a large measure of humor. We're trying to push the boundaries of what it means to be a nation."
The next day, I spent the morning visiting the booths at the convention center where most of the 42 micronations that were represented at MicroCon had exhibits. They were chockablock with brochures, various souvenirs, stamps and currency, sometimes passport. The heads of the various states were on hand to field inquiries and promote their micronations.
In the afternoon, I attended a series of speeches on topics related to micronationalism. Dr. Eric Lis, a Montreal psychiatrist and founder of the Aerican Empire, for instance, spoke about "The Grandiosity of Self-Declared Royalty." It was very funny. Afterward, we spoke.
"What makes micronations so interesting is people with a certain amount of eccentric grandiosity use it to enrich their lives and other people's," he said. "There is something to be said for grandiosity tempered by self-deprecating humor."
And the crazy question?
"The dictionary definition of the word crazy would be that it impairs your quality of life or your functioning," Dr. Lis said. "In my case, it has only enriched both, so I cannot be called crazy."
John Farr displays currency of West Who
That evening, there was an award ceremony followed by the grand gala ("Polish your tiaras and break in your dancing shoes," the MicroCon program advised).
During the evening festivities, I sat at a table with John Farr, founder and former president of West Who. As a teenager growing up in Southern California, he and a friend came up with the make believe nation of West Who. In time, they moved on, grew up and forgot all about West Who. Then, 10 years ago, Farr, now a retired high school principal, happened to read about micronations. He immediately contacted his old childhood friend and they revived West Who. Today, it has roughly 480 citizens from 55 countries.
"We bill ourselves as being very happy on the happiness index, like Bhutan, and if we can just live in a happy nation, we'd like to," he told me. "West Who is that nation."
I came to see that perhaps that is the allure of micronations, even their value. A country of your own - if only in your mind, or a rock in a box - that's more peaceful, saner and just more fun than the tumultuous larger world just maybe isn't so crazy after all.
Its good fun if you can afford it. Great combination of humor and play (and the availability of vast open spaces to camp in randomly and call a kingdom).
I love it! It’s a grownup version of make believe!