The proposed treaty with the Republic of Talossa

[King John]

Mr. Prime Minister, Ladies and Gentlemen of the Cosâ, honoured guests.

Even though the proposed treaty between our great Kingdom and the Republic of Talossa has not yet been turned over to the Cosâ for our approval or rejection, I beg you to indulge me, and to endure my expressing a few thoughts on a topic which will soon (I presume) be debated here, and which is so vital, not merely to the Kingdom’s well-being, but to its very identity.

I begin by asking a simple question: Is the Kingdom of Talossa a “micronation”?

If we take “micronation” simply in the sense of a "very small nation", then Talossa clearly is, by some measures, a micronation. Not counting Pengöpäts, our area exceeds that of only two or three other nations; and if we don’t count the 40,000 Cestoûrs who reside within our borders — within the Kingdom but not of the Kingdom, if you will — our population of 62 (as of today!) makes us (possibly) the least populous country on the face of the Earth. But this is not what is usually meant by a “micronation”.

Talossan law rather confusingly defines a micronation as a country “which is not recognised by the international community of nations”, a definition that certainly includes Talossa itself, but also includes, for instance, such entirely non-micro-nations as Tibet, the Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus, the Chechen Republic of Ichkeria, or (most strangely, considering its population of nearly 23 million) the Republic of China. Clearly our legal definition does not consort with what is generally meant by the word “micronation”.

I would suggest that what is usually meant by the word is something like “a small group of people acting like or pretending to be or claiming to be a nation, but who are not”. And by this definition, the Kingdom of Talossa is most definitely not a “micronation”. We are a nation, pure and simple, a nation like Canada or Vietnam or Greece. Not make-believe, not pretend, not fake.

Now, a treaty is defined in the law books as a certain sort of agreement between nations, between sovereignties. Talossa could negotiate a treaty (in this fullest sense) with the United States, or with Tuvalu. But not, I think, with the Republic of Talossa. Why? Because the Republic, as far as the Kingdom of Talossa and Talossan law are concerned, cannot be considered a nation.

Nations have territory — the possession of territory is basic to their existence. Talossa has territory. The Republic of Talossa does not. They claim to have territory, but the territory they claim is not theirs — it is ours. They claim that four (or five) provinces seceded from the Kingdom of Talossa last year to form their Republic; but if that were true, if such a secession had in fact occurred, then those provinces would no longer be part of our Kingdom. The citizens of those provinces could not vote in our elections; they would not be represented here in this chamber. But Ladies and Gentlemen, they are! We are! If the supposed secession had taken place, I would not be here, Sir Fritz would not be here, Mr. Justice Siervicül would not be here. Why? Because our provinces — Florenciâ, Maritiimi-Maxhestic, Maricopa — would be part of a different country!

If the Republic of Talossa had a territorial existence of its own, and were merely laying claim to part of our land (as Peru might lay claim to part of Bolivia), then perhaps we could treat with it as with another nation. But when its entire supposed existence as a nation is within our borders, it is clear what we’re dealing with — a “micronation”.

The proposed treaty declares that the “secession” of last year by the Republicans was legal. Well, it certainly is legal for any citizen of the Kingdom to renounce his citizenship, as some did. But it is not only illegal, it is impossible for a Talossan province to secede from Talossa. The territorial integrity of the nation is guaranteed in the Organic Law, in Article XVII Sections 10 and 12, and in Article II Section 3.

Now, I’m not at all the enemy of the Republic of Talossa. I like the people who make up the Republic, and I hope we can all be friends and help each other in the various projects we’ve undertaken. I applaud this treaty as a step toward making that mutual help and coöperation possible. I thank my fellow-Florencian, Foreign Minister Sam Tyler, for his fine work on this project; I congratulate my friend Marti-Pair Furxhéir of the Republic for his openness and goodwill toward a nation that has not always acted well toward him and his friends. I do not want to derail or discourage or denigrate this process. But let’s be clear and careful about what we’re doing.

Picture if you will a group of Texans who leave Texas and take up residency, and citizenship, elsewhere. Now suppose our group of ex-Texans forms an Internet-based social-political-literary organization, and that they call it “The Kingdom of Texas”, and even publish documents claiming that they are the legitimate government of Texas. Now I submit to you (or should I say, to y’all) that the real State of Texas won’t care one way or another about this. The Kingdom of Texas won’t be outlawed; the Texas Kingdom people won’t be clapped in irons if the Texas Rangers ever catch them. It might be entirely possible that the real State of Texas would see fit to work with the Kingdom of Texas for their mutual good. The State might speak kindly of them, honour them in various ways, praise their chili recipes and their hats and their great big running backs. None of that changes anything. Texas remains what it always was, a republic, and one of the United States, and not in any way or sense or shape a Kingdom.

The same, mutatis mutandis (if you’ll pardon my Old Talossan), is the case with the Kingdom of Talossa and the Republic of Talossa. The Republic's existence doesn’t hurt us. They aren’t at war with us. They aren't plagiarists or terrorists or woman-beaters. Their gunboats are not sitting off the coast shelling Jahnhaven; their shocktroops are not terrorizing the UMW campus. The Kingdom of Talossa continues happy and at peace — all seven provinces. We of the Kingdom can be friends with the Republicans, we can help each other and like each other. I hope we do! The Republic has things — expertise in our language, archives of our laws and history — to which we in the Kingdom would be very pleased to be allowed access, and I think most of us are more than happy to help them any way we can. But an agreement between us to achieve these ends might more exactly be called a “Memorandum of Understanding” or a “Declaration of Friendship” than a “treaty”.

And in no sense whatsoever can we ever agree, admit, or concede that four or five of our provinces have legally seceded from the Kingdom of Talossa.

Thank you for your patience and courtesy.

[Danihel Laurieir]

First of all, let me just say, "Damn it! John Woolley said part—a key part—of what I wanted to say about this proposed treaty with much greater subtlety, precision, logical extension and graciousness. Did I say 'damn it?'…I meant 'Praise be!'"

To allow me to clarify my previously stated position, let's assume for the moment that Woolley's Qualm is somehow mitigated. Let's imagine, for example, that the Kingdom and the Republic have both adopted some version of a Peculiar ontology in which it's possible that two nation-type-thingies with overlapping territorial claims can have overlapping territorial claims without provoking any definitional, logical, metaphorical, legal, operational or other-al headaches. OK? With that vivid image in mind, consider nevertheless the following objections to the proposed treaty…

Legality of the secession. The secession that led to the creation of the Republic was not legal under the laws of the Kingdom. The secession was a rebellion, and like most rebellions, occurred extra-legally. Because the secession was not legal according to the laws of the Kingdom does not necessarily mean it was without cause. Had I re-connected with Talossa a little earlier than I had (just before the splitters split) and had better understood what was happening, I might well have been more strongly tempted to give in to some latent Republican feelings and join with the rebellion. (In the last analysis, however, I think—alas! —that I have become skeptical of the value of many schisms and revolutions and have grown inordinately fond of continuity, tradition and lawfulness. And also there was my friendship with Ben) Anyway, the point is: the Republic should be ashamed of asking the Kingdom for legal permission for its fait accompli. The Kingdom, under its laws, cannot recognize secession. Does the Republic have provisions for legal secession? The Republicans did what they did. They shouldn't ask the Kingdom to condone it—that's groveling, sniveling behavior. It's icky.

The domain names. Here's my lofty take on this issue: I don't care what real world laws say about who owns which domain names. The fact is, talossa.com, talossa.net, talossa.org and talossaonline.com all originally arose in the context of and in support of the Kingdom of Talossa. These domain names belong—morally, ethically, historically—to the Kingdom and not to the Republic. The Conservative Loyalist Party should perhaps rethink its policy of liberally and disloyally acquiescing to the Republic's aggressive claims to the Kingdom's heritage.

There are other problems with the treaty in addition to Woolley's Qualm and the two objections I have highlighted here. But these are serious enough in my view to derail the treaty as proposed. Furthermore, as written, the treaty would require the Kingdom of Talossa to enact at least one Organic Law amendment and possibly several other laws. This treaty is a long, long way from ratification.

[Lord Q]

“Declaration of Friendship”

This does seem to make more sense.

[Lord Q]

Sir John's legal argument is excellent. I would like, however, to think that we can smile and say, "Mm-hmm, sure," in regard to their territorial claim just as they do to us. Whoever thinks they're the "real" Talossa is beside the point, IMO. The real issue here is the uniting of two social communities. I could care less about their political institutions and processes. They're not going to lay siege to Lord Mha's barony until he surrenders.

We've got some work to do, no doubt. But some things should be less important if even an issue at all than being able to work together on what we have in common: language and friendship.

I'd still like to see provision #2 cleared up though.

[Sir C. M. Siervicül]

john said:

If the Republic of Talossa had a territorial existence of its own, and were merely laying claim to part of our land (as Peru might lay claim to part of Bolivia), then perhaps we could treat with it as with another nation. But when its entire supposed existence as a nation is within our borders, it is clear what we’re dealing with — a “micronation”.

An excellent and impeccably reasoned speech, Sir John. The point I've quoted above could use reinforcement from a recent historical example. When the UK granted British Honduras its independence as Belize in 1981, the Republic of Guatemala did not recognize the existence of Belize because Guatemala held that the entire territory of British Honduras rightfully belonged to Guatemala. It was not possible for Guatemala to establish diplomatic relations with Belize until the former narrowed its territorial claim to the southernmost part of the latter. Now, the two countries still have a territorial dispute (over that southern section), but their relations are fairly normal because Belize exists as an entity that Guatemala can recognize.

[Hooligan]

The Senator for Vuode rises to speak here in the austere chambers of the Ziu.

For the record, I will never -- NEVER -- surrender the Barony of Hooligan. Well, at least not while Hooligan's Super Bar still stands within it, with functioning taps.

Pledging to stand my ground with as much stability if not sobreity as possible, I seat myself again now, pint-glass-in-hand, yielding the floor.

[King John]

My Lord President Castiglhâ, Mr. Prime Minister, esteemed colleagues in the Senäts, ladies and gentlemen of the Cosâ, representatives of the Press, honoured guests:

It would seem, judging from some of the remarks made by our friends in the Republic, that my speech the other day on the proposed treaty wasn’t as clear as I had hoped. So once again, I beg the Houses’ indulgence.

A great deal in private life — and almost everything in the realm of nations, governments, and laws — depends on the smooth working of what we might call forms or conventions, or legal fictions. These forms and conventions are not always in perfect accord with what is loosely called reality, but without them, without their careful observance, it often proves impossible to procede with the work of any society larger than a single person.

As an illustration of the kind of thing I mean, consider a United States Senator who, during debate, refers to “my friend, the esteemed senior Senator from Massachusetts”. Now, the speaker may not esteem the old boozer at all. He may, in fact, intensely dislike him and all his works. But the business of the Senate, and the business of the government in general, would be impeded by his referring to “that cravenly skirt-chasing clown”. So he observes the forms, the conventions … and debate proceeds smoothly.

These forms and conventions are not always simply verbal conveniences; they often have to do with real issues of how a society, nation, class sees and defines its own existence. For instance, in a distant and happier time, it was a conventional position that a gentleman would never speak a deliberate untruth, and (another convention) that every man of high rank, certainly every man in the Royal Family of England, was unquestionably a gentleman. It came to pass on one infamous occasion that these conventions clashed with reality. A certain Prince of Wales assured the Government, on his word of honour, that a particular conversation had not occurred, when, in fact, it had. Now I don’t pretend to know whether Fox and Sheridan and the great Burke actually believed the Prince, actually thought that he was telling them the truth, but they had absolutely no choice but to act and speak as if they believed him. The conventions demanded it! They could express no official doubt regarding the Prince’s veracity, without threatening the forms that upheld their whole society.

Sometimes it happens that groups of people who observe different sets of forms and conventions come in contact with one another, and sometimes serious difficulties ensue. Much of the difficulty between the Kingdom and the Republic stems, I believe, from this kind of clashing convention.

The people who make up the Republic of Talossa have explicitly renounced the conventions and forms of the Kingdom, and have chosen for themselves a set of different, and contradictory, conventions and forms. The Republicans insist, for instance, that their declaration of sovereignty over part of Talossa is effective, real, actual. Their laws, their debates, their conversations all proceed from this convention. But this convention is utterly incompatible with the older forms and conventions that underlie the life, law, and existence of the Kingdom.

The First Postulate of Talossanity (if I may name it so) is that the Kingdom of Talossa is a real country (like Nicaragua or Japan) and not a “micronation” (like Porto Claro or Nova Roma). Call this a legal fiction if you will, or call it reality. It makes no difference. No citizen of the Kingdom, no subject of King Louis, especially no Minister or Justice or Official of the Kingdom, can ever take any action, make any pronouncement, or even publicly express any opinion, that contradicts that First Postulate, without threatening the very existence of Talossa. (In sharp contrast to this, it seems to me that most of the Republicans have adopted a Postulate that says something like: Any group of people who call themselves a real country are a real country. “If you exist, you exist.”) It isn’t that we insist that somebody else see things the way we do; it’s that we aren’t willing to give up a central part of the vision of our society and nation simply in order to accommodate the different vision of different people.

Real countries, like Jordan and Ireland and the Kingdom of Talossa, do not and cannot agree that a foreign group has really achieved sovereignty over part of the national territory, simply by virtue of the group’s declaration that it is so. Real countries sometimes do agree to split up, as Czechoslavakia became the Czech Republic and Slovakia; real countries are frequently forced, by invasion or insurgency, to acknowledge their loss of sovereignty over part of their territory; but no real country ever gives up any portion of its sovereignty simply because someone else claims it.

This discord in what I’ve called our forms and conventions, this incompatibility between the Kingdom’s and the Republic’s self-visions, is not something the Kingdom created or desired, or can do anything about. The Republic formed itself last year out of nothing, and could very well have chosen some other set of forms and conventions than the ones they chose. But they chose to assert, as one of the central organizing principles of their founding, that certain provinces of the Kingdom of Talossa had seceded and were no longer part of the Kingdom. They did this, knowing very well that these new “forms and conventions” contradicted those of the Kingdom. Nobody in the Kingdom (as far as I know) wants to expend any time or effort to get them to change; what the Republicans choose to believe, or pretend to believe, is their own business. But neither should they expect us to give up the basis of our national self-identity, the forms and conventions that lie at the heart of our national life, simply because their chosen forms are incompatible with ours.

Group A has a set of views and beliefs; Group B organizes itself in deliberate opposition to those views and beliefs. Fine. But just where does Group B get off acting as if Group A is being unfriendly or haughty or wicked, just because Group A won’t give up their own identity and adopt Group B’s views?

— John Woolley, Senator from Florenciâ and M.C.

[Eugene Oh]

One premise by which the Republic's declaration of independence can be refuted and annulled would be that it arose out of nothingness -- no Talossan law allowed such a declaration, and much as money earned through criminal means (e.g. swindling, embezzlement) is returned to the victim, the territory claimed by the Republic today is illegally so, and hence would, under the law, be returned to the Kingdom.

The Republic is a crime. The Vietnamese had a "Can Vuong" (Support the King) movement in the face of France; loyal Talossans, unite in our own version of Can Vuong!

[Lord Q]

I think that any attempt to do so would derail any sort of negotiations with the Republic. I'm not sure that would be wise. This is pretty important to a few of us.

[Sir Samuhel Tecladeir]

I rise to address the comments of MC Oh and the counterreponse of Presedînt Castiglhâ:

I agree. While we don't agree with the action, we understand the feelings behind it. Such unilateral declarations are inherently dangerous and do not reflect the wishes of the current government. Our official stance is to support some sort of move toward reconciliation with the Republic. While "some sort" and "reconciliation" are vague, I think that the ideas proposed by Mr. Oh are not consistent with the spirit of the position.

We're not looking to be dominant but peaceful and cooperative. Although I should point out that doesn't mean total submission either.

I yield the floor.