I’ve mentioned in other posts that I grew up staring at a lot of maps. Looking through a red-bound Hammond World Atlas (gifted to me by a pilot friend of my father’s from the Korean Air Force, if I recall correctly) was a favorite pastime for me and my father. I can and still spend hours looking at maps of all kinds.
Maps, of course, tell stories. Some borders are more obvious than others (say, Sri Lanka or New Zealand), but most others are more or less arbitrary. The lines on which national identity and nationalism are built are often just historical quirks based on some temporary exigency long forgotten. Some of the most peculiar borders include enclaves/exclaves (which I have never blogged about, but an excellent blog post can be found at http://geosite.jankrogh.com/exclaves.htm, panhandles, and quadripoints (four corners).
Enclaves and exclaves are often created when ethnic or religious groups that used to live intermixed in relative harmony need to be sorted for whatever reason into separate nation-states. Towns, neighborhoods, or even homes are deemed to fall into one state rather than the other, creating a bizarre patchwork of borders. Central Asia, a region of tremendous ethnic diversity that has been separated into pseudo-ethnic states (see post of July 8, 2008), contains a tremendous number; India and Bangladesh sorted out some of theirs in land swaps (see https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/India–Bangladesh_enclaves). Oman and the UAE, and Belgium and the Netherlands, even have enclaves within enclaves (see http://www.bootsnall.com/articles/08-05/arabian-enclaves-and-counter-enclaves-united-arab-emirates-middle-east.html and https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Baarle-Nassau).
Panhandles also often have curious historical origins. The Wakhan Corridor (see post of June 23, 2008), a tiny strip of Afghanistan that separates the former Soviet states of Central Asia from Pakistan, was delineated as a buffer between Russia and Great Britain during the territorial competition known as the Great Game. Oklahoma’s panhandle resulted from the Missouri Compromise, which prohibited slave-holding Texas from extending beyond 36.5 degrees latitude. The tiny strip, before incorporation into Oklahoma, was an area of complete lawlessness.
This post is sparked by our brief crossing (on a fishing trip) into Namibia’s Caprivi Strip, a small piece of Namibia that extends hundreds of miles eastward into the middle of southern Africa. The Caprivi Strip resulted from negotiations at the famous Berlin Conference of 1884-85, where the European colonial powers divided up Africa among themselves. Germany, which controlled Namibia, wanted access to the Zambezi River, and so swapped Zanzibar for the Caprivi Strip, not knowing that that stretch of the Zambezi had no access to the sea, due to as-yet-undiscovered Victoria Falls.

The Caprivi Strip also causes an example of the third topic of this post—a quadripoint. Around the point where the Caprivi Strip ends, four countries (Namibia, Zambia, Botswana, and Zimbabwe) meet at a “four corners” in the river. (To be precise, it is not a true four corners, as the border between Botswana and Zambia is actually a line rather than a point, such that Namibia and Zimbabwe don’t actually share a border. This deviation from a true quadripoint is allowing a bridge to be built between Botswana and Zambia without crossing the other countries’ boundaries.)

The most famous “four corners” is, of course, in America, where Utah, Arizona, New Mexico, and Colorado meet at a true quadripoint located in the Navajo reservation (and marked by a monument which is supposedly at slightly the wrong location).
In the way that enclaves and exclaves demonstrate borders yielding to the human reality that no clear lines can truly represent boundaries among people and cultures, quadripoints (and straight line/rectilinear borders generally) represent a complete disregard for on-the-ground realities. The drawers of straight line boundaries are generally treating the subject land as a blank slate, an emptiness where national identity can be created by fiat rather than historical reality. Genocide and relocation made consideration of Native American claims in the American West largely unimportant, faciliating the drawing of straight lines. Actual desert emptiness “justifies” some straight-line borders in the Sahara and Middle East. But other arbitrary lines, from the 38th parallel in Korea to many African borders, have been causes of much bloodshed.
And thus borders are: As much as they tell a historical tale, they also create a reality. The nearly arbitrary acts of people standing around a map come to affect identity and culture, with tremendous consequences for future residents.








the tricolore over a government building in St. Pierre, Reunion
It would be difficult to argue that I’ve ever known real scarcity, but there have been a few times in our travels when we’ve been left totally without cash and without an obvious way to access it. The first time was when, due to a sort of banking mixup, we ended up with no money in the only account for which we had a working ATM card. This was in Turkey, if I recall, during our 2008-09 big trip, and our friend Shan came to our rescue, quickly depositing a few thousand dollars into our bank account. Just the other month, we were staying overnight in the small village of Xidi in Anhui Province, China, which we discovered had only one ATM, connected only through the Chinese UnionPay network, and not Cirrus or Plus. We had enough money for our room but not for dinner or transport back to Hangzhou—our friend Haiping came to our aid with a quick WeChat virtual payment made from Hong Kong. Today, I was not the victim of my own poor planning, but one of the billion plus affected by the Modi government’s apparently rash plan to rid the country of “black money.” On the evening of November 8, the Indian Prime Minister announced that all existing 500 and 1000 rupee notes—over twenty billion bills that constituted about 85% of the Indian money supply—were to be worthless as of midnight, and must be exchanged for new 500 and 2000 rupee bills. There was an immediate shortage of cash everywhere, with ATMs emptying as soon as could be stocked with the new bills and businesses not able to make change.
We wandered all over town looking for money, finally waiting in line for about half an hour when we found a stocked ATM. (The line wasn’t even that long, but the ATM was hideously slow with a confusing interface.)
Success! It is easy to view the chaos that resulted as typically Indian. Disorder on the order of billions is, after all, a sort of hallmark of the world’s largest democracy. The decrease in economic activity will hit GDP substantially, though estimates vary, and of course there’s a corruption angle to even this anti-corruption measure—it is said that leaks allowed those who were connected to launder their money in advance. But for all the short term disruption, the possible benefits are clear. In one fell swoop, the government rid the economy of billions of dollars in counterfeit and illegally obtained hoards of cash. For example, it was almost universal for Indian real estate transactions to have both a legal component and an under-the-table component, for purposes of tax evasion. Such large black market payments would now be difficult. Entire industries ran on the unreported cash economy, and may now have to be formalized. Buying a US$3 lunch with a credit card today (the restaurant couldn’t provide change for our 2000 rupee notes), it occurred to me that the government will have from this cash shortage period all sorts of new data on the volume of transactions done by businesses, revenues that probably went entirely unreported on the cash economy. Lack of cash is not only triggering the use of ordinary credit cards but also new mobile wallet schemes, the growth of which will help India not only locally but perhaps establish systems and brands that it can then market, using its IT prowess, around the world. The long term consequences will of course be unclear for a while, but India does have perhaps a unique . . . tolerance? ability? to muddle through chaos, and things seemed to be working out. Our hotel was obviously grateful when we handed them approximately $60 in rupee notes to settle our bill, but Uber to the airport was as smooth and cashless as anywhere else.















