Two years ago, a Belgium farmer singlehandedly made his country bigger.
Part of the 390-mile border between Belgium and France stretched across his land. A rectangular stone marker had been placed there in 1819 to designate the exact boundaries between the two nations established by the Treaty of Kortrijk after Napoleon's defeat at Waterloo. That stone, regardless of its import, was in the way of the farmer’s tractor. Therefore, he moved it 7 feet, taking land from France.
The change in the map was eventually discovered by a local history enthusiast walking through the woods. Once he reported it to the authorities, the two mayors of the border towns had a laugh. The Belgium mayor enjoyed the fact that his town was now larger, while the French mayor lamented the loss of those 7 feet in the media. Both agreed to work together to avoid a border war. Meanwhile, the farmer was contacted and asked to put the stone back.
My wife always mocks how nervous I get at immigration desks when flying to different countries. Being Italian, she doesn’t get scrutinized when entering other EU nations. I tell her it’s different for an American. We’re bred to fear the power of immigration guards. I explain to her that it’s usually harder for me to get back into the U.S. than it is to go anywhere else. In my 20s, I was pulled aside all the time in U.S. airports and my luggage searched, along with other young, bearded men.
Prior to the pandemic, we were traveling through South America. We booked a two-day tour across southern Bolivia and the Uyuni Salt Flats. We were picked up in San Pedro de Atacama in Chile by our guide early in the morning and brought toward the Bolivian border, where we had to get processed first. I’m not sure what I was expecting, but I was surprised when we stopped in the middle of the desert, where the only other thing was an aluminum shed.
“That’s Bolivia over there,” our guide said. “We have to wait for the country to open.”
There were no fences, guards or cameras. There were no dogs sniffing our baggage or surveillance drones above us. I don’t even remember a sign, although it is unlikely there wasn’t one. The only thing that marked the boundary between Chile and Bolivia was a 2-foot ditch dug into the ground that could easily be stepped over.
Eventually, a few more cars pulled up next to ours. Our guide told us the immigration office opened at 9 a.m. At 9:20, the doors in the front of the building rolled up. We were beckoned in by officers laughing and joking with each other, stamping our passports without even looking at us. Just like that, we were in Bolivia.
I think one of the reasons the story of the Belgium farmer moving the stone got so much attention, in addition to being a cute anecdote, was that it also incidentally suggested what an arbitrary thing a border is. While they have important governmental and executive functions, they’re still ultimately the product of man’s imagination. Someone created a line on the ground, usually after some sort of war, and then made rules who gets to cross that line. Admittedly, I enjoy watching YouTube videos that show how borders have changed throughout history, demonstrating how fluid they have been in the scope of human settlement.
Recently Ireland, where I live now, was plagued by “the border question.” With Brexit, the United Kingdom, which includes Northern Ireland, left the EU. As a result, part of the island (the Republic of Ireland) was now in the EU, where goods and people could move freely between other EU countries, and part of the island (Northern Ireland) was not. A “hard border” was put in place much of the 20th century, with checkpoints and guard patrols, especially during the height of the Troubles – the conflict between those fighting for a united Ireland and those loyal to the crown. The hard border devastated the economy of the towns near it, as well as adding psychological stress and sometimes physical danger to those living in the border counties. Despite the complications it posed after Brexit, few people in Ireland wanted to go back to the hard border. It represented a traumatic era of the island’s history, and one that is still very present. To avoid a controlled border took months and months of negotiation between the UK and EU, the result being that Northern Ireland was granted an exception to be part of the Single European Market and shares a Common Travel Area with the Republic of Ireland. While it would have been much simpler to enact a monitored border between the two countries, what that border would represent would be far too heavy.
Pablo Casals, the renowned Spanish cellist, famously said “The love of one's country is a splendid thing. But why should love stop at the border?” One of the benefits of travel being more accessible in the current age is that in visiting other countries, it becomes easier to see ourselves as part of the whole. In total, being a member of the human race gives us more in common than the differences we have as a result of nationality. While borders might encourage cultural diversity and serve important administrative purposes, it is still important to recognize that they are artificial devices and not divined by a higher power. They don’t come with inherent privilege, and they shouldn’t divide us from our humanity. They shouldn’t stop us from seeing ourselves as a person first and a citizen second.
Because, who knows? One day, someone could move a rock, and all of a sudden you’re from somewhere else.
