Home, Sweet Homepage
From This Magazine (November/December 1999)

KINGDOM OF TALOSSA

The inauguration of the new prime minister -- the country's 25th -- takes place by phone. In a ceremony that displays its own brand of pomp and circumstance, the new PM, Michael Pope is sworn in by King Robert I. Sadly, I -- like the 50 or so Talossans that comprise the kingdom -- am unable to attend the ceremony. But Stotanneu (Talossa's oldest and most respected newspaper) reports on Pope's Oath of Office (conducted in the Talossan language). Apparently, it featured "below average" pronunciation.

Since 1995, the micronation of Talossa has been fostering a grassroots electronic salon for its citizens, who hail from North America, Europe and Latin America. (The nation itself was declared in 1979, long before the Internet's arrival). There are 60 to 70 such small, self-declared (and currently unrecognized) nation states on the Net, and even a United Micronations Association. Talossa, unlike Merovingia (with .00018 square kilometres of territory), occupies a robust 13.01 square kilometres in Milwaukee, Wisconsin. Their Web site notes: "These claims have never been officially disputed by the U.S. government, so obviously they have no complaints."

The serious intent of micronations is best measured along a continuum, with Aerica (whose official religion involves the Great Penguin) at one extreme and Freedonia (who recently issued $50 coins, made of .999 fine silver) at the other, with even the most serious dabbling in humour. (Freedonia is named after the fictive country in the Marx Brothers film Duck Soup and the official ethnic cuisine of the Kingdom of Talossa is Taco Bell).

Nonetheless, the energy spent on these hobby sites outstrips a prank -- the entire biblical epistle of James has been translated in Talossan. And as a vehicle for enacting concrete political change, micronations arguable rate above the Marxist-Leninst Party. Indeed, by their very existence, micronations represent a critique of real-world politics and a protest against the size of government.

In contrast to real-world government, Talossa and its peers present a forum in which concerned cybercitizens can reengineer democracy. Talossa's multiparty system is truer than most: elections have featured parties such as the Talossan Double-Cross Movement, the Communist Party and the Democratic Dandipratic Party. The state has a written constitution, approved by public referendum. (Other micronations boast declarations of independence and passports). And amendments to the political process are ongoing. Self-improvement is the order of the day: many micronations inform tourists their electronic nations are "currently under construction -- a situation that will continue unless foreign aid is received.

But what these real-life SimCities reflect most accurately is the early potential of the internet, trumpeted by magazines such as Wired for its democratizing and communicative aspects. E-commerce and corporate encroachment have since converted most Netizens into consumers, but these pockets of resistance remain.

As a tourist, I find my short stay in Talossa's HTML hut enjoyable. Most vacations are mediated by some sort of framing device -- the camera, an all-inclusive tour package, or a Sherpa guide. Having my holiday circumscribed by a computer monitor doesn't seem wholly inappropriate. And now I, too, harbour dreams of starting my own republic. Sadly, a "Bigge Empire" isn't in keeping with the micronation ethos.