Sealand isn’t your average country—it’s a glorified hunk of concrete in the middle of the North Sea with delusions of sovereignty. And that’s exactly why we love it.
Perched 12 kilometers (7.5 miles) off the Suffolk coast, this former World War II sea fort—originally named HM Fort Roughs—was built to fend off enemy aircraft. In 1967, pirate radio enthusiast Paddy Roy Bates took it over and boldly declared independence, founding what he called the Principality of Sealand.
What followed was a peculiar mix of DIY nation-building and eccentric politics. With a flag, currency, passports, a royal family, and even a national motto (“E Mare Libertas” – From the sea, freedom), Sealand has all the trappings of a real country… minus the international recognition.
And while most micronations fade quietly into the realm of internet lore, Sealand has endured for over half a century. But when your “country” consists of little more than a glorified oil rig, how exactly do you draw up borders?
Reddit user u/cirrus42 rose to the challenge and suggested 6 ways to divide Sealand. Let’s explore each micro-micro-borderline and what it says about this steel-and-rust sovereign curiosity.
Stop the English Oppressssors! / Stop the Belgian Oppressors!
A solid start with a mock geopolitical division. This map imagines a Sealand split between its would-be liberators—or invaders. Are the real threats across the Channel or across the North Sea?
Closer to Where Roy Sleeps / Closer to Where Joan Sleeps
This one’s deeply domestic—literally. On a structure where every room is within spitting distance of every other room, these territorial claims feel more like the kind you’d see in a sitcom about couples who can’t decide on which side of the bed is theirs.
Civilized / Back Country
In traditional nation-states, this split would involve city lights versus farmland. In Sealand, it’s probably just the area with the electric kettle versus the corner with the emergency generator.
Half-Marathon Route / Spectator Area
With one pink dot and a lot of black space, this map tells us two things: 1) There’s only one treadmill, and 2) You’re either running on it, or you’re watching someone else sweat. No middle ground.
<30 Seconds from Center / >30 Seconds from Center
A bold claim in a place where nothing is more than 30 seconds from anything. But hey, when your country is smaller than a supermarket parking lot, proximity becomes an existential talking point.
Wash Hands in the Kitchen / Wash Hands in the Water Closet
Finally, the great hygienic divide. Where do you scrub up after handling diplomatic matters or operating a two-burner stove?
And if this map tickles your geopolitical funny bone, you’ll love the Atlas of Prejudice by Yanko Tsvetkov, a clever collection of stereotype maps that turn national clichés into art. (Note: the link leads to Amazon.)
