The Question of Borders
In the city of Metz there is an equestrian statue of some famous historical figure who came from that area of France. I cannot recall for sure now, but I believe it might have been Alexis de Tocqueville--though it isn't clear as to why Metz the city would want to pay tribute to him. My friend Reed and I would promenade on Sundays, the tail end of a tiring weekend, and examine the statue. At its base, the figure was quoted as saying something like, "The moment I heard the word America, I was ready to spill my blood for her." I remember that, upon reading this, Reed and I laughed. To us, it seemed so zealous as to be almost absurd. We understood that it was merely a euphemism displaying vehement support, yet the idea of spilling blood, and readily, was intriguing to us. These days, no one wants to spill blood. Even the mention of a mere paper cut makes us cringe. We realized that he must have wanted to subscribe to the ideals America offered in the face of monarchy, poverty, and the absence of various freedoms--indeed, he would give his life, or at least vast amounts of blood to support this cause. Rather than enjoy these luxuries that the America potentially offered at this time, he would die in order to see the potential become a reality, so that others, like ourselves, might enjoy them. These are the words of a magnanimous person, whose courage and honor goes above and beyond that of the typical citizen--such as ourselves. Yet the quote seemed to simplify this to the point of absurdity. Reed and I reflected: Just hearing the word America made him want to go to battle? What was that conversation like when he first heard the word America? In what situation would America put de Tocqueville, or whoever, on the spot and demand a certain amount of blood?
In reality we were questioning the idea of fanatical patriotism. A patriot subscribes to the idea of borders. The concept of a country and freedom relies on the reality that elsewhere certain luxuries do not exist. Indeed, a luxury would not be a luxury if it was ubiquitous. A country is a man-made concept, it wasn't here when we entered this world, but there was geography, there were various climates, mountains and deserts, oceans and rivers that we later turned into natural borders, so the idea of a country seems to be implied within the structure of the universe. Consider if the globe was an endless plain with virtually no landmarks--what might the human race have looked like then? Would we all get along more easily or would it make little difference? I mean, is the idea of a country inherent in us, or is it also dependent on our situation? The fact that there are hundreds of country makes things a little more interesting, if anything. Life on a planet that is an endless plain would be kind of boring. In that world, there are no guidebooks, no maps, no diversity. I imagine there would be one race, if not a sole nation, or maybe the idea of nations would be completely absent from that world. Conversely, the idea of countries promotes competition, war, bigotry, chauvinism. So to defeat these ills, governments promote travel. We are told that Switzerland requires all youth to live, work and study in another country. Yet, isn't Switzerland the least open-armed first-world country there is?
But take a simple step back from it all. What does this world consist of and what is merely our own conceptions we've placed on it? It would seem that time can be divided up into units of measurement such as seconds, hours, days, lunchtime, dinnertime, night and day, holidays and the working week, but philosophers and scientists agree that time does not exist in the real world, it is a man-made concept. In part, this is hard for us to digest: an egret knows no holidays nor does he own a watch, yet does he not follow a similar pattern to our daily schedule: wake, rise, fish, chill, and sleep? One might argue that this is not because his sense of time, but rather his adhering to the mechanic of his body. So perhaps time does not exist for any other animal but humans, and then for us it is something imaginary. And still, our mind fights it, this is a concept that we've been force fed ever since our mothers first put us to bed. If something so acceptable as time can prove to be imaginary, then what of our concept of countries. Ever since we saw the earth from space, we knew for sure that lines were not drawn on the actual globe as they are on a map, yet in some place in our mind, it feels special when you cross the USA-Canadian border (or when you go into another time-zone). And it feels wrong when people have to risk their lives, jump fences and run from patrol only to transgress an imaginary line where, on the other side, freedoms exist that do not exist elsewhere. If we took that step back and dissolved our notion of countries and of borders the earth still has a natural separation because of tectonic plates, climate and bodies of water. Although it would seem that the changes brought about by these natural phenomena do not create as sudden borders as the infinitesimally small borderline (which, no matter how closely you zoom onto a piece of earth, there is a one dimensional line separating one state from another), but rather, like the rate of change between night time and day time, there is a distinction between one and the other, but it is so gradual as to not be perceived. So if someone was to roam the globe on foot changes in population, mannerisms, ideology should be gradual and minute, and a study of the differences of any of these would require vigorous documentation. But on an individual scale this seems out of the question. Even within one nation, these can vary from person to person. On the other hand, nature is more homogeneous than the human race.
In any case, a step back from the idea of "the map" eliminates the reality of the kinds of dichotomies our minds have created. There is no United States of America, and there is no Mexico. As the Turkish novelist Ahmet Hamdi Tanpinar says, "I am not attached to the East, or to what is old, but to the life of this country. Is this being Muslim, or being an Easterner, or being a Turk? I don't know... to me there is no East, and none of this or of that--There is the life that we see around us." Indeed, East and West seems to be the trickiest of geographical dichotomies that we have developed. But in reality there is only the life we see around us regardless of the borders we have placed on it.
That said, in less than a week's time I will be going to Thailand. When I travel to foreign countries I tend to avoid reading about a culture or a place. I'm not sure if this ends up being a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, it allows for a clean slate. I am neither shocked nor disappointed by what I see. On the other hand, in theory it would be nice to know about a place before I visit it. But usually I'm too preoccupied with the preparation or life at home that I don't have much time to develop thoughts about a place I have never been to. Still, when I think of a place like Thailand, it seems I've already developed some notions about it that may or may not be true. It is exotic, it is Eastern, it is not so exotic as to be considered a "dark continent," and so on. But, there is the life around us and there is no this or that. So Thailand will meet me with obstinate apathy for my preconceived ideas of what it consists. What exists over there does not depend on what I imagine, whether what I imagine is true or not. What I am sure of is only this: I am not ready to spill my blood for Thailand, but I am ready to spill my blood for travel.
In reality we were questioning the idea of fanatical patriotism. A patriot subscribes to the idea of borders. The concept of a country and freedom relies on the reality that elsewhere certain luxuries do not exist. Indeed, a luxury would not be a luxury if it was ubiquitous. A country is a man-made concept, it wasn't here when we entered this world, but there was geography, there were various climates, mountains and deserts, oceans and rivers that we later turned into natural borders, so the idea of a country seems to be implied within the structure of the universe. Consider if the globe was an endless plain with virtually no landmarks--what might the human race have looked like then? Would we all get along more easily or would it make little difference? I mean, is the idea of a country inherent in us, or is it also dependent on our situation? The fact that there are hundreds of country makes things a little more interesting, if anything. Life on a planet that is an endless plain would be kind of boring. In that world, there are no guidebooks, no maps, no diversity. I imagine there would be one race, if not a sole nation, or maybe the idea of nations would be completely absent from that world. Conversely, the idea of countries promotes competition, war, bigotry, chauvinism. So to defeat these ills, governments promote travel. We are told that Switzerland requires all youth to live, work and study in another country. Yet, isn't Switzerland the least open-armed first-world country there is?
But take a simple step back from it all. What does this world consist of and what is merely our own conceptions we've placed on it? It would seem that time can be divided up into units of measurement such as seconds, hours, days, lunchtime, dinnertime, night and day, holidays and the working week, but philosophers and scientists agree that time does not exist in the real world, it is a man-made concept. In part, this is hard for us to digest: an egret knows no holidays nor does he own a watch, yet does he not follow a similar pattern to our daily schedule: wake, rise, fish, chill, and sleep? One might argue that this is not because his sense of time, but rather his adhering to the mechanic of his body. So perhaps time does not exist for any other animal but humans, and then for us it is something imaginary. And still, our mind fights it, this is a concept that we've been force fed ever since our mothers first put us to bed. If something so acceptable as time can prove to be imaginary, then what of our concept of countries. Ever since we saw the earth from space, we knew for sure that lines were not drawn on the actual globe as they are on a map, yet in some place in our mind, it feels special when you cross the USA-Canadian border (or when you go into another time-zone). And it feels wrong when people have to risk their lives, jump fences and run from patrol only to transgress an imaginary line where, on the other side, freedoms exist that do not exist elsewhere. If we took that step back and dissolved our notion of countries and of borders the earth still has a natural separation because of tectonic plates, climate and bodies of water. Although it would seem that the changes brought about by these natural phenomena do not create as sudden borders as the infinitesimally small borderline (which, no matter how closely you zoom onto a piece of earth, there is a one dimensional line separating one state from another), but rather, like the rate of change between night time and day time, there is a distinction between one and the other, but it is so gradual as to not be perceived. So if someone was to roam the globe on foot changes in population, mannerisms, ideology should be gradual and minute, and a study of the differences of any of these would require vigorous documentation. But on an individual scale this seems out of the question. Even within one nation, these can vary from person to person. On the other hand, nature is more homogeneous than the human race.
In any case, a step back from the idea of "the map" eliminates the reality of the kinds of dichotomies our minds have created. There is no United States of America, and there is no Mexico. As the Turkish novelist Ahmet Hamdi Tanpinar says, "I am not attached to the East, or to what is old, but to the life of this country. Is this being Muslim, or being an Easterner, or being a Turk? I don't know... to me there is no East, and none of this or of that--There is the life that we see around us." Indeed, East and West seems to be the trickiest of geographical dichotomies that we have developed. But in reality there is only the life we see around us regardless of the borders we have placed on it.
That said, in less than a week's time I will be going to Thailand. When I travel to foreign countries I tend to avoid reading about a culture or a place. I'm not sure if this ends up being a good thing or a bad thing. On one hand, it allows for a clean slate. I am neither shocked nor disappointed by what I see. On the other hand, in theory it would be nice to know about a place before I visit it. But usually I'm too preoccupied with the preparation or life at home that I don't have much time to develop thoughts about a place I have never been to. Still, when I think of a place like Thailand, it seems I've already developed some notions about it that may or may not be true. It is exotic, it is Eastern, it is not so exotic as to be considered a "dark continent," and so on. But, there is the life around us and there is no this or that. So Thailand will meet me with obstinate apathy for my preconceived ideas of what it consists. What exists over there does not depend on what I imagine, whether what I imagine is true or not. What I am sure of is only this: I am not ready to spill my blood for Thailand, but I am ready to spill my blood for travel.