By Eric Axner-Norrman
This is a fictional travel account from the equally fictitious Central European country of Transmontia, which recently became the first nation to give up its nationhood by a people’s veto.
IF MANY PEOPLE inhabiting regions within the borders of current nations had their way, plenty more independent countries would be present on the world map. Catalonia and Basque in Spain, Scotland and Wales in the United Kingdom, California in the U.S.A., and so forth. Many countries that are partly run independently are also still largely lacking formal support from the world community, such as Western Sahara and Northern Cyprus, neither of them officially recognised by most other nations or by the UN. In Ukraine, we have since Russia’s full-scale invasion in February 2022 seen a nation fight to keep its nationhood intact, with much outside support for their cause. In Asia, Taiwan is threatened by mainland China in much the same way. Some regions have chosen – or wish to choose – the opposite alternative, longing to join an already existing nation state and to fully assimilate into it.
One country however – a small and rather unknown land located just north of the Eastern Alps, tracing its name back to Roman times – has recently done the complete opposite. The result of a popular referendum gave overwhelming support for the abolishment of Transmontia’s official nationhood. Transmontia officially ceased to be a politically controlled geographical territory. What is it instead? “A historical and cultural region of Central Europe”, plainly, if the most updated travel guide available is to be believed. By means of direct democracy, Transmontia has plunged itself into an optional state of anarchy. The outcome has proved quite shocking for many observers. The end result is a tiny section of the European continent not governed by any formal authority – yet no casual visitor would ever guess it unless by chance they would feel the need to seek contact with federal institutions. They would be gravely disappointed.
How did it all come to this? What made Transmontia reach the decision of abolishing the most elementary aspect of modern-day society? And how can Transmontia as a mere “region” with its own distinctive history and culture not only survive but positively thrive without a state? As the crisp air of an early Tuesday morning in March envelops us on our little tour of the former capital of the country, my guide Aldus Banderillion tells me what he believes are the most important recent events leading up to this truly radical break with tradition.
“A few decades ago, all this would obviously have been impossible. The then-ruling party, the United People’s Nationalist-Protectionist Party for Sovereignty and Supremacy (UPNPPSS), was among the longest-lived fascist regimes in the world. The leader General Evander Ouija held the country in his iron fist for more than forty years. Revolution followed in the wake of his death. Backed by a vast majority of Transmontians, the Progressive Democratic Populist Coalition (PDPC) took power and introduced us to democracy, to that whole way of living. We thought we were finally on the right track.”
But corruption abounded. The president himself, former law professor Erasmus Petrach, once regarded as the premier freedom fighter against the fascists, openly took bribes and eventually dissolved parliament when they did not comply with his demands. By now the Transmontians had had enough. An informal assembly of two hundred delegates, two percent of the country’s tiny population, was handed the task of finding a sustainable way forward for the nation. After less than a year, a decision had been reached: the way forward was no nation at all. A referendum was held, where 99,8 percent of all eligible voters let their desire be known. The rest is, as we often say, history.
“Or rather the end of history!” Aldus declared. “The troubles of the past have been left behind, buried in the dust of time, where they belong. Now we can finally look towards the future without fear or anxiety. We are free, really free.”
The towering peaks of the Alps act as a natural defense barrier to the south, a bulwark to ward off invaders to the land. The Romans did once penetrate this fortification, conquered Transmontia and made it part of the West. Despite many Western countries now considering it a rogue region, a dangerous renegade, the people of Transmontia see their home as the vanguard of modern democracy and in the forefront of a different way of building a society.
“Everything we do now is on a voluntary basis. Nothing is forced on us. Mutual aid and solidarity are the only guidance we need. And let me tell you, the previous governments certainly did not teach us those values. We have had to go back to basics. To the roots of what it means to be a society. Only around non-compulsive cooperation can a sustainable society be constructed if you ask me. And here in what was once the Republic of Transmontia, there are plenty who would agree with me.”
Why are the Transmontians the first to discover that this way of life is a practical possibility? That is the question I am left with as I take one last look down from the plane home at the country that ceased to be a nation. It is beautiful, tranquil, serene. Everyday life strides on ever so gently, sleepwalking its way into tomorrow just as its neighbouring countries do. Nowadays it is a place where neither havoc is wrought nor chaos runs amok. It is a historical and cultural region of Central Europe without its own government or authoritative institutions. Likely unbeknown to many of them, the Transmontians have achieved much of the individualist anarchist’s dream for the best kind of society; one free from force and full of voluntary assistance. What radical political philosophers have debated over the past two centuries in academia, has been put into action in a place many have never even heard of. Simply because Transmontians saw it as a necessity for their survival. As some argue that nation states are losing many of their key international roles to global tech giants for example, perhaps more will come to question not just their credibility at presenting viable solutions to current and upcoming challenges, but also if in fact they are needed at all for us to live prosperous, safe and content lives?
– Rosalba Hodgkins, Plymouth Daily Star
By: Eric Axner-Norrman
Photography: Lumen
