Nestled in the north of India, precariously close to the border of Pakistan, is the controversial and fragile state of Jammu and Kashmir. In 1947, when independence was granted from the British, the Muslim-majority areas were portioned to create Pakistan, and the Hindu areas to form India. However, despite its predominantly Muslim population, Jammu and Kashmir remained part of the territory of India; this decision has continued to have serious repercussions for the region.

Although it is now possible to visit the region, albeit under strict scrutiny, there is still evidence of serious conflict, with a military curfew enforced in some areas, limited access to the Internet, restricted mobile phone use and the ceaseless presence of coils of barbed wire. Despite this, the area has an entrancing charm, with people rowing between house boats to sell their wares, chatting under huge, woollen blankets on the street and sipping hot kawa tea.

Lucy Boyle is in her sixth year of a Combined Bachelor of Laws and Bachelor of Commerce, majoring in Economics. She visited Kashmir in December 2009, while completing an internship at the South Asia Human Rights Documentation Centre in Delhi. All images are the author’s own.

This is a photo of the Old City of Hebron, the Palestinian city south of Jerusalem and Bethlehem in the occupied West Bank. To me, it represents the notion of ‘borders within borders’. Beyond the concrete road lane separator depicted in this photo is the Jewish settlement of Kiryat Arba, which is inhabited by over 400 Jews.

This settlement, which was established in the late 1970s, separates Palestinians from their families and cuts Hebron’s Old Quarter in half. Hebron is divided into sections: H2 (Hebron 2), which is under Israeli control, and H1 (Hebron 1), which is under the control of the Palestinian Authority. Life for the 30,000 Palestinian residents in H2 is a constant struggle. The Palestinians are surrounded by Israeli patrol units, clock towers, and some 16 checkpoints with constant surveillance and curfews. Therefore, Hebron is symbolic of the border conflicts in Israel.

I took this photo in February 2010 as I was waiting to clear the checkpoint to make my way to a Palestinian pottery store across this border. The soldiers on patrol had just yelled at one of the young boys who had crossed the concrete road lane separator.

Rawan Abdul-Nabi is in her third year of a Bachelor of Laws.

Since the Dalai Lama’s journey into exile in Dharamsala, India, in 1959, more than 130,000 Tibetans have followed him across the Sino-Indian border. The Tibetan refugees have been welcomed with open arms by both the government and the people of India. Tibetan numbers are equal to those of Indians in many areas; Tibetans occupy many jobs in Indian businesses; and Tibetan monasteries are more prevalent than Indian temples. Nevertheless, two very different religions and cultures peacefully coexist.

When the uprising in 2008 caused hundreds of deaths in Tibet, Indians marched alongside Tibetans for three days and nights. As one man explained, “Buddha [a Tibetan deity] was born in India: so Tibetans go to India to worship. Lord Shiva [an Indian deity] is Tibetan: so Indians go to Tibet to worship. So India and Tibet are forever connected”. In a modern world characterised by Rudyard Kipling’s ‘We’ and ‘They’, such an attitude is refreshing. My photos convey the coexistence of these inspirational people in the face of the torment of Tibetans.

Melanie Brown is in her third year of a combined Bachelor of Laws and Bachelor of International Studies, majoring in Government and International Relations. All images are the author’s own.

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The comprehensive defeat of the Liberation Tigers of Tamil Eelam (LTTE) in 2009 was not only a significant event for Sri Lanka, but also illustrated the rise of China and the shifting tectonics of global power.

The longest-running civil war in Asia, spanning three decades and claiming 70,000 lives, was caused by ethno-nationalistic tension between the majority Sinhalese and minority Tamil communities. The history of the conflict is littered with allegations of human rights abuses against both parties. An Amnesty International report, released at the conclusion of the war, detailed the abuses committed and accused the government of “widespread” torture, and of firing artillery into densely populated areas. The report also accused the LTTE of using “civilians as human shields” and “killing civilians who attempted to escape” areas under rebel control.

The Cold Shoulder

After the collapse of the Norwegian-backed ceasefire in 2004, hostilities resumed with vigour. Sri Lanka was criticised for its conduct of the war by Western nations, culminating in the suspension of U.S. military aid, the withdrawal of its EU preferential trade status and the freezing of development aid. While the Sri Lankan Government vociferously rejected the criticisms, it appeared less concerned by the measures taken against it.

Sri Lanka increasingly shifted away from traditional allies in the West and aligned itself with Asian powers, which were nonchalant about its human rights record. “In Asia, we don’t go around preaching to our neighbours and our friends,” quipped Palitha Kohona, Sri Lanka’s Foreign Secretary.

Meanwhile, China’s aid to Sri Lanka jumped from a few million in 2005 to over $U.S.1 billion in 2008, becoming its largest foreign donor. By comparison, Britain only provided £1.25 million in humanitarian aid in 2008. China has also provided billions in loans, military hardware, and provided crucial diplomatic support to the Security Council. India and Pakistan have provided military training and hardware, while Iran and Libya have provided loans.

Eyes on the Prize

Though the benefits to Sri Lanka of aligning itself with uncritical allies are clear, the benefits that accrue to their new allies are less transparent. However, Sri Lanka’s geographic location within Asia does make it an advantageous ally for ambitious neighbours.

Sri Lanka’s position at the base of India has long made India the dominant foreign power on the island. Sri Lanka is also of significant interest to Pakistan and China – strategic adversaries of India – because of its proximity to India. Accordingly, India has been working to limit the influence of its adversaries in what it considers its own ‘backyard’. The situation is analogous to the Soviet interest in Cuba during the Cold War.

Additionally, Sri Lanka is at the nexus of trade between Asia, the Middle East and Europe. Ostensibly, this was the explanation for the $U.S.1 billion Chinese naval station being built in Sri Lanka. Although the Chinese argue that the venture is entirely commercial, a report for the U.S. Joint Forces Command, published in November 2006, argues that the port is part of a “string of pearls” strategy, with the goal of acquiring ports in Myanmar, Bangladesh, Sri Lanka and Pakistan. The purpose of the strategy is to provide the capability to protect energy supplies from the Middle East in the event of conflict or piracy. Tellingly, China’s humanitarian, military and financial support for Sri Lanka only ramped up following the signing of the naval deal.

The Resurgence of Realpolitik

The realignment of Sri Lanka’s foreign policy to privilege regional powers, like China, has raised alarm in Western capitals and forced a reassessment of policy towards Sri Lanka. The U.S. Senate Foreign Relations Committee released a report in December last year outlining this worry, stating that Sri Lanka “has grown politically and economically isolated from the West”. It continues, stating that the U.S. has “tended to underestimate Sri Lanka’s geostrategic importance for American interests” in the Indian Ocean. In order to arrest this slide into China’s orbit, the U.S. proposes to engage Sri Lanka on issues of mutual interest: diplomatic speak for ignoring human rights concerns.

The response by the U.S. to the assertiveness of China in Sri Lanka is characteristic of the competition for power and influence that will become the norm in the 21st century. Already, China’s appetite for resources in Sudan and Iran has inhibited international action against these regimes. Now, in less high-profile cases – such as Sri Lanka and, to an extent, Myanmar – China has blocked foreign action against these regimes. Chinese foreign policy is curtailing and shaping U.S. policy in an unprecedented manner. Significantly, Chinese economic growth, which propels geopolitical muscle, is returning to historically high levels, relatively unbruised by the ravages of the GFC.

China’s rise is inexorably having geopolitical impacts. Accordingly, the Kissingerian paradigm is waxing, while the idealism that characterised criticism of Sri Lanka wanes as a force in the foreign policy of the West.

Whilst the number of people living outside of their countries of origin remains at a mere two per cent of the world’s population, there has nonetheless been a dramatic rise in international migration since the 1970s.

However, be it in Blacktown, Auburn or ‘Little Manilas’ in West Covina, California, and in Metro, Los Angeles, migrants these days typically do not leave their national cultures and identities behind at the border, a trend that manifests itself, essentially, in the existence of entire nations outside the borders of their original nation-states.

This is a phenomenon that can be explained by the processes of transnationalism, whereby the nation, its cultures and identities transcend the geopolitical borders of the nation-state. However, transnationalism does not so much abrogate or ‘threaten’ national borders as it paradoxically reinforces them.

The transnationalism phenomenon provides another layer to the narrative of globalisation, one that challenges existing orthodoxies about the modern nation-state. It is a story of some of the world’s greatest diasporas today – Indians, Chinese, Mexicans, Italians, Greeks, and the Irish before them – and, in this article’s case, Filipinos.

Whilst Filipinos have long migrated overseas, an examination from an Australian perspective has been prompted by rising numbers of Filipino migrants to Australia in recent years, particularly as one of the top three sources of temporary labour under Australia’s 457 Visa Scheme. Their story as a class of temporary migrants, coupled with the Filipino narrative of transnationalism, provides some lessons on the paradoxical relationship between transnationalism, fluid national identities, and seemingly strict nation-state borders.

At first, it appears that, in transcending national borders, the ‘nation’ has been divorced from the nation-state. But a contradiction exists between the assertion of subjective, ‘hyphenated’ national identities by migrants outside of their homelands, and the Philippine state’s deliberate promotion of Filipino transnationalism amongst overseas Filipinos for the purpose of supporting remittance-led development in their original ‘homeland’. In a nation in which divorce does not exist, the relationship status between the Philippine state and the Filipino trans-nation is far from being divorced or even separated: it’s complicated.

Globalisation, Transnationalism and National Borders

The narrative of transnationalism requires us first to reconcile the prevalence of national entities with the seemingly contradictory phenomenon of increased globalisation. In the orthodox ‘anti-globalisation’ literature, the likes of Susan Strange, John Eatwell, and Lance Taylor have typically decried the demise of the nation-state and national sovereignty in the face of globalisation and inter-national integration. Globalisation and national entities are conceived as mutually antagonistic; where globalisation has been ‘bad’, the reinforcement of nation-state sovereignty and authority is conversely ‘good’, and presented as a panacea to the vagaries of so-called ‘economic globalisation’.

However, in the face of increased globalisation, the nation-state has not disappeared, but has instead been reinforced and become even more prominent. If recent global crises are anything by which to go, be they financial or human (such as the rising number of refugees), the language of national regulation, border security and control has been invoked by nation-state authorities time and time again.

Indeed, as Nandita Sharma highlights, the impotency of supranational organisations in the absence of an international rule of law has meant that nation-states have been complicit in the very institutionalisation of globalisation. These are the same processes that are said to undermine nation-state sovereignty and abrogate national borders. If globalisation has indeed not taken place in a vacuum, but has instead been institutionalised by nation-states themselves, globalisation and nation-states are mutually constitutive rather than antagonistic.

Further evidence of the strength, rather than disempowerment of nation-states, lies in the institutional conditions in which inter-national migration has been facilitated. In contrast to the comparatively ‘pre-modern’, freer movement of persons between borderless lands, the reported rises in immigration, in recent decades, have ironically been facilitated through state institutions of immigration, and amidst ever-strengthening border security and protection regimes.

Despite the fact that the relationship between border security and rising waves of immigration is, at first, peculiar and far from universally constant, in Australia the reality has been that record levels of migrant intake occurred at the height of the ‘Tampa’ crisis under the former Howard government in a post-September 11 world.

Decoupling the Nation from the State

What has occurred through contemporary globalisation has not been the death of the nation-state, but rather the metamorphosis of all things national through increased global integration. This has occurred through the increased international movement of capital, finance, and, to a lesser but equally significant extent, the international migration of people. Despite the increased international integration, there remains no global government, no formal global citizenship, and no nation that, to paraphrase Benedict Anderson, is conterminous with the world. Far from disappearing, national entities prevail.

But whilst the ‘national’ prevails in transnationalism, its meaning and form have been transformed in transcending nation-state borders. On a commercial plane, the international expansion of firms has problematised the meaning and sincerity of their self-proclaimed ‘national’ citizenship. As for migrants, both formal academia and more ‘informal’ media (blogs, popular culture, art and film) have given rise to literature that documents the formation of new and hybrid multi-national identities, as ‘national’ subjects migrate and seek to construct subjectively their own identities upon crossing borders. Indeed, identity reconstruction is part and parcel of the migration process, as migrants seek citizenship from the West to divorce themselves from the shackles of third-world citizenship.

The principle that thus arises from processes of transnationalism and migrant subjectivity is the organic nature and distinctiveness of the nation from the concept of the state, whose authority the nation underpins in the modern nation-state. To take this article’s case study, ‘being Filipino’ (or any national entity for that matter) needs to be distinguished from being a citizen of the Philippines or a modern nation-state.

Whilst the emergence of ‘Little Manilas’ and transnational overseas Filipino networks can be taken as nationalistic expressions, these nationalistic expressions cannot be conflated with pride in the Philippine nation-state. That is, while Filipinos may continue to send money back ‘home’ and subscribe to The Filipino Channel, their exodus from the Philippines is an indictment of the Philippine state, a sad commentary on the lost hope and compact of Filipinos in the ability of the Philippine nation-state’s ability to provide for, and protect, its citizens.

The State-Led Institutionalisation of Transnationalism

Despite all of the attempts of migrants to reconstruct subjectively their identities and acquire new or dual citizenship, they nevertheless remain constrained by citizenship restrictions imposed by both migrant-receiving and migrant-sending countries. Whilst more than eight million Filipinos live and work overseas permanently or perpetually, less than half actually acquire citizenship from ‘receiving’ countries and nearly two-thirds resettle in new lands as temporary or ‘irregular’ migrants. This is not to deny the subjective construction of national identity; but politically and legally, migrants remain beholden to the dictates of national governments on citizenship.

On the Philippines’ part, as a ‘sending’ country, budding permanent emigrants and Overseas Filipino Workers must contend with a raft of paperwork, registration processes, and compulsory attendance at ‘pre-departure’ seminars required by the Philippine Overseas Employment Administration and the Commission for Filipinos Overseas (CFO). Indeed, the CFO is an entire bureaucracy whose mission is to “promote stronger economic and cultural ties between the Philippines and Filipinos Overseas”.

Two functions, as mandated under Batas Pambansa Blg. 79 Act, include to “provide assistance to the President and the Congress of the Philippines in the formulation of policies and measures concerning or affecting Filipinos overseas” and to “serve as a forum for preserving and enhancing the social, economic, and cultural ties of Filipinos overseas with the motherland”. In addition to a dedicated bureaucracy, there are also special provisions to entice non-citizen Filipino repatriates, as defined by jus sanguinis citizenship law, such as one-year balikbayan (literally ‘return country’) visas and the ability to purchase Philippine real estate.

However, therein lies a contradiction between the Philippine state’s deliberate promotion of Filipino transnationalism, and the opportunities that transnationalism provides for migrants to construct what it means to be ‘Filipino’ more subjectively. Whilst national Filipinos may continue to ‘be’ Filipino overseas, their identification with the Filipino nation does not necessarily constitute support of the Philippine nation-state, especially in light of the underlying desire of migrants to reconstruct or renegotiate their original citizenship. Consequently, this raises questions about the authority of nation-states over diasporic subjects, as well as the ‘nationalistic’ rationales for remittance-led developmental strategies that harness the resources and skills of diasporic Filipinos for the sake of their ‘homeland’.

In highlighting the extent to which transnationalism is overstated or misconstrued as support for a nation-state, this contradiction between the state-led institutionalisation of Filipino transnationalism and the subjectivity of transnational Filipinos raises old debates about the relationship between citizens and the state.

What is new is that these classic debates of nation-state authority and nation-building, as they emerge through the narrative of transnationalism, now occur in transformed spatial, socio-political, and even technological, global dimensions. To borrow once again from Benedict Anderson and Randolph David, like many post-colonial states, the construction of the Philippine nation is an unfinished project and subject to re-‘imagination’.

However, in the age of transnationalism, the re-imagination of the nation-state itself is not bound by national boundaries, and is subject to more organic processes as transnational Filipinos more subjectively redefine their nation beyond the Philippine state.

Justin Peñafiel is in his first year of a Bachelor of Laws.

Picture the Rhodes Colossus cartoon. It signified the ‘Scramble for Africa’ period, depicting the British colonialist Cecil Rhodes holding Britain’s telegraph line, which extended from Egypt right down to South Africa. Now replace Rhodes with the Chinese President, Hu Jintao, and replace the telegraph line with strings. You get a picture of Hu holding the South African Foreign Minister, Nkosazana Dlamini-Zuma, on a string like a puppet: the very cartoon that appeared in the South African newspaper The Sunday Times in March 2009.

Earlier that month, South African authorities denied a visa to the Dalai Lama to attend a peace conference in Johannesburg. The move attracted widespread criticism within South Africa, especially among religious figures. As Archbishop Emeritus Desmond Tutu put it, South Africa was shamelessly succumbing to Chinese pressure.

Importantly, this accusation is not unfounded. According to the South African newspaper Sunday Tribune, 20 per cent of China’s African trade – most of which is based in the oil industry – is conducted in South Africa. With Europeans buying most of the Russian oil and Americans buying Middle Eastern oil, Africa is the only untapped oil market in the world that China can utilise. Moreover, China’s internal markets are approaching saturation, and it needs the market opportunities presented by Africa.

Emerging from the economic reform of the 1970s, China has placed more and more emphasis on Africa. In fact, between 2002 and 2007, trade between China and Africa increased six-fold. Through tapping into investment opportunities, purchasing natural resources and influencing governments, China has displaced Western influence on the continent. This is China’s scramble for Africa, and it is set to change the face of foreign aid and investment in Africa.

The Beijing Consensus

The first thing that sets Beijing apart from the West is the ‘Beijing Consensus’. In contrast to the ‘Washington Consensus’ – a policy of the West that dictates that foreign investment will only be provided if the recipient country commits to developing a market economy and a democratic social system – Beijing makes it very clear to African countries that it will only concern itself with commercial ventures, not political matters.

The New York-based NGO Human Rights Watch has criticised the situation in Sudan and, because of this, American and Canadian oil companies have pulled out of Sudan. However, this has not stopped China from trading with it. As Peter Brookes and Ji Hye Shin have pointed out, the state-owned China National Petroleum Corporation (CNPC) was, in fact, quick to fill the gap in the Sudanese oil industry after the Western companies withdrew.

Chinese manufacturers have also been eager to sell weapons and military equipment to African dictatorships. In 2004, the South African newspaper Business Day reported that Zimbabwe had proposed to purchase $U.S.200 million worth of fighter jets and military vehicles from China, amid an embargo imposed by the European Union and the United States, to which China quickly agreed.

Confronted by all of these accusations, the Chinese Deputy Foreign Minister, Zhou Wenzhong, simply stated that: “Business is business. We try to separate politics from business. … [T]he internal situation in the Sudan is an internal affair and we are not in a position to impose upon them.”

The Chinese Model of Development

The ‘Beijing Consensus’ also contrasts with the ‘Washington Consensus’ in that Beijing does not regard democracy as a prerequisite for economic development. Ellen Lammers, an analyst based in Amsterdam, believes that China’s success in lifting 400 million people out of poverty in two decades, without much change to its economic and political structures, encourages African countries to believe that they can manage the same. This model of development, termed the Chinese Model of Development, provides African countries with an alternative model to that of the West. Accordingly, African leaders no longer have to commit themselves or pay lip service to democratic reforms.

The model appears even more attractive to African countries considering the ‘Washington Consensus’ directive that forces them to change their authoritarian social structure into a democracy and to move to a more market-oriented economy. Most African rulers do not want such reforms, especially when past experiences show that opening their economies means opening them to domination by Western companies. Countries such as Morocco, Ghana, the Central African Republic and Sudan, for example, have had their telecommunication industries dominated by Western companies, which have been mostly German, French, Malaysian and Portuguese.

Democratic reforms are even less desirable. Institutions in African countries are too weak to support democratic reform. Recognising this, the Chinese Government has actively advocated a Chinese-style economic development program for African countries that is modelled on a restricted market system and governed by an overarching single-party totalitarian government.

A Great Leap Forward for China

With China, African countries can obtain the level of foreign investment that they need without having to navigate through all of the obstacles presented by the West. Similarly, with Africa, China can obtain all of the market and natural resources that it needs to fuel its own development.

Since the Sino-Soviet split, China has not had a major ally in the international community that it can use to rebut international accusations. However, when China obtained veto power in the UN Security Council in 1971, it obtained the power to halt any measures that it disliked, which it has not been slow to use, especially to protect its investments overseas.

In 2005, the Security Council passed Resolution 1591, which imposed sanctions on Sudan, including reaffirming an arms sales ban and freezing the assets of those contributing to the ongoing genocide in the country. Not only did Beijing not support the resolution, it continued to sell helicopters to Sudan that were supported by airstrips run by Chinese firms, which, in turn, were used to expel inhabitants from oil-rich lands owned by the CNPC.

In the same year, Britain and the United States attempted to generate a punitive Security Council resolution in response to Zimbabwean President Robert Mugabe’s forceful relocation of 700,000 Zimbabweans. At the same time, Mugabe visited Beijing to seek financial assistance for the Zimbabwean economy. China then promptly threatened to veto any potential resolutions on the issue in the Security Council.

China has the complete package to offer: money and political legitimacy. However, in shaping its policies, China has been very careful not to create a precedent that the international community could use against it.

The fact that China keeps insisting that democracy is not a prerequisite for economic development justifies its denial of democracy to its own people, while fostering a large base of support in Africa, whose countries constitute about 27 per cent of the United Nations, and allows a more powerful backup when it is faced with issues such as human rights. This effect is already being felt, with 11 human rights proposals against China being defeated at the UN in the past 10 years.

This group of African allies can also be used to isolate Taiwan further diplomatically. When China first entered the UN in 1971, only four African countries recognised it. Now that number has grown to 30 and it seems certain that most African countries will side with China in the event of a clash between China and Taiwan.

A win-win situation? Not exactly.

The UN has maintained a peacekeeping mission in Libya since 1994 and China has been the major troop-contributing country to the mission. However, as Denis Tull points out,  China has also been the biggest buyer of Libyan timber – almost half of the country’s timber production in 2000 – that he believes was the source of income that kept the Libyan President Charles Taylor in power. It took an official sanction from the UN in 2003 to halt such purchases and to force him out of power. Taylor was eventually charged with war crimes.

Such approaches by China to Africa started in the Programme for China-Africa Cooperation in Economic and Social Development in 2000. China hailed such policy as non-interventionist, respectful of sovereignty and equality, and mutually beneficial. Obviously, such investments are widely welcomed by African rulers and warlords alike, but they are unpopular among the ordinary African people, who are increasingly seeing the Chinese as people who care for nothing other than making a profit.

Further worsening China’s popularity among the African public is the influx of a large amount of cheap Chinese goods, which is putting Africa’s local industries out of business. The fact that Chinese firms hire Chinese workers in Africa, instead of local African workers, is also bringing uncertainty as to whether Chinese participation will benefit the local economy.

The Chinese idiom “without the lips, the teeth feel the cold” sums up exactly the relationship between Africa and China. Africa provides China with the market and the natural resources that China needs to keep its economy going, while China provides Africa with the legitimacy to keep its rulers in power, as well as investment and a development model alternative to that of the West. Writing for the Journal of Modern African Studies, Tull points out that such a practice cannot sustain itself and will ultimately fail.

However, with a self-sufficient eco-cycle between the two blocs, it is certain that, while the public in South Africa continues to denounce China’s influence on its country, at least for now, China’s scramble for Africa will go on.

Jeff Li is in his second year of a Bachelor of Arts, majoring in French.

An astronaut bobbing gently inside the observation deck of the International Space Station, and in the act of comparing a political map of the world to the Earth’s surface, would be struck by a peculiar inconsistency. Unlike on the map, the continental landmasses of the real world are not criss-crossed with thick, black lines. There is no sign of the territorial borders of nation-states.

The reason why there is no sign of these borders is, of course, because they do not exist: except in our minds. Because they are a wholesale product of the human imagination, their global ‘presence’ results only from a worldwide imagining of their existence.

A Diminishing Presence?

One might posit that the global ‘presence’ of the territorial borders of nation-states is being eroded by a move away from the worldwide imagining of their existence. The growth in multilateral treaties and bloc politics – for instance, the G20 – seems as if they might signal a gradual rejection of this imagining. In many ways, they represent attempts to behave as if territorial borders do not exist.

Ultimately, however, these devices of co-operation fundamentally accept the idea of nation-state territorial borders. The European Union (EU), as representative of what is ostensibly the most concerted effort to jettison the imagining of these borders, exemplifies the point: its Constitution demands that the EU respect the ‘essential’ Member State function of ensuring territorial integrity. Thus, borders are still imagined and, consequently, still ‘exist’.

The Problem with Territorial Borders

But what is the significance of imagining the territorial borders of nation-states and, in turn, behaving as if they are an established fact?

Thinking about this, one is drawn to considering the nature of nation-states. They certainly have their positive element, including the fostering and maintenance of myriad cultural specialties. For instance, they promote specific languages, unique types of architecture, peculiar dishes; the concentration of management capacities allows for the coordinated building of roads, hospitals and schools; they assure that others are looking out for each other; and they develop feelings of belonging. However, nation-states also seem to be the focal points around which a great deal of earthly death and destruction revolves. And it is in its contribution to this little detail that the overriding significance of behaving as if territorial borders exist appears to reveal itself.

Behaving as if territorial borders exist equates, for nation-states, to enforcing what they see as their exclusive rights to particular territories. But, by doing this, a nation-state automatically excludes from that territory anyone who is not, cannot, or does not want to be a member of that nation-state. Although most people will probably be able to accept a lack of membership in the nation-state, accepting exclusion from its claimed territory is much more difficult. The reasons for this are obvious. The land, sea and air that constitute territory not only often have real sentimental value for people but also provide, in varying degrees, an array of desirable tangibles. Such tangibles may include: life-sustaining resources, sites of holy worship, a rock upon which to build one’s house, and – if one is really lucky – forests bursting with truffles.

The inability of excluded peoples to ignore these admittedly tempting facets of territory has equated to, as everyone acknowledges, conflict. Some modern-day cases-in-point include: pre-Israel/Israel vs. Arab World, India vs. Pakistan, Russia vs. Georgia, and Eritrea vs. Ethiopia.

An International System without Territorial Borders

In recognising this link between territorial borders and conflict, we might consequently be drawn into imagining an alternative international system in which each nation-state does not insist on territorial integrity. In this apparition, nation-states would still exist. It is just that people would move freely amongst the land, sea and air spaces formerly reserved for one particular nation-state or the other. No Palestinian, for instance, would be prevented from crossing into, and building his or her house in, the areas in which Israelis reside.

From such a vision, of course, arise some fairly substantial questions. Such questions include: would there be much reason for nation-states and other associations of people to attack one another, if everyone had the opportunity to settle wherever they desire, and to access a reasonable (and not underwhelming) share of the Earth’s generous bounty? Or would people find other reasons for conflict, like the opportunity to enslave others under a particular ideology, or for material profit? Would it not be likely that conflict would still well and truly exist in the world, but that it might be (significantly) reduced?

One thing seems certain. Our current way of conceptualising the international system, in which we imagine that, and consequently behave as if, nation-states have territorial borders is, at least from a humanistic perspective, flawed. Although this article does not necessarily cry out for the mental demolition of nation-state territorial borders, it suggests that an international system imagined upon more liberal principles might, perhaps, better serve human interests.

Frederick Harker-Mortlock is in his third year of a Bachelor of Arts, majoring in History and Government and International Relations.

Are we the borderless generation? Although our generation hardly needs more labels, we could certainly improve on the label ‘Generation Y’. The term ‘global citizen’ is perhaps more apt to describe our generation. But ‘global citizen’ is less a label than a description of a phenomenon previously confined to a small group. A curious prototype on the rise is the cultural nomad, who has lived in many different places, interacted closely with people from many different cultures and whose nationality holds no great weight with his or her identity. Our generation is rife with these trans-cultural global citizens. In fact, chances are that you are one of them.

In the last half of the 20th century, politics, commerce, trade and humanitarian relief have increasingly occurred on a trans-national and global scale. More and more of us are used to growing up alongside or within cultures different to our own. We live in a world where the traditional borders of the nation-state are structures of decreasing importance for where we go, what we buy and who we are. As the nation loses its importance as a shaper of cultural identity, people are more strongly connected across cultures and nationalities by common interests, values and opinions than by territorial borders.

This is all facilitated by the time-space compression of globalisation, which has enabled our generation to interact across cultures on an increasingly meaningful level. For those privileged with the means, air travel is now easier and email and social networking sites allow the global citizen to stay in touch with friends dispersed around the world. Much of our generation feels increasingly disillusioned with the culture into which they were born (be it their family, wider community or country) and believe that they have more in common and identify more strongly with individuals from completely different cultures, perhaps on the other side of the world.

The sociologist Ruth Useem coined the term ‘Third Culture Kids’ (TCK) to describe children who have spent a significant amount of their formative years overseas or were born to parents of different cultures. Whilst it is limiting in its primary application to children of military personnel or ambassadors, the theoretical framework does have analytical value.

TCKs are highly mobile, highly educated (and typically high-achieving), politically aware and mature for their age. They have cross-cultural lifestyles and a different world view to those in their immediate community. TCKs are ‘cultural chameleons’ who modify their behaviour to fit in wherever they are, are acutely aware of cultural differences and appreciate diversity, even seeking it out specifically.

At the same time, TCKs are characterised by a certain restlessness and ‘rootlessness’; they belong everywhere and nowhere at once. They often have a hard time defining their cultural identity, and typically do not identify with their national culture or necessarily any other particular culture. Where they often feel most at home is in an abstract community of international citizens.

Any such person who has experienced living overseas will be familiar with the disparity between the feeling of being a ‘citizen of the world’ and the legal reality of nationality and border constraints. The existence of borders is clear in the everyday government bureaucracy of necessities like health care, housing and employment. The global nomad, global citizen or TCK is torn between the contradictory feelings of worldliness and the constraints of national citizenship.

TCKs are no insignificant group. Many world leaders and heads of large multinational organisations fit the TCK criteria perfectly. The United States President, Barack Obama, for example, was born to a Kenyan father and a British mother in Hawaii and grew up in Indonesia, before later returning to the U.S. and studying at Harvard Law School.

Indeed, the social theorist Ted Ward has hailed TCKs as the prototype citizens of the twenty-first century. With their diverse cultural experiences, global perspective, social adaptability and intellectual flexibility, such people are more qualified not only to meet the challenges of this century, but to lead it.

This is perhaps the greatest consolation for the TCK or global citizen who is trying to find his or her place in a world of bordered nation-states. Wayward global nomads have no need to despair; they are in good company with the leaders of tomorrow’s greatest global organisations, who, just like them, are first and foremost citizens of the world.

Nadia Daly is in her fourth year of Bachelor of Arts (Media and Communications), majoring in Government and International Relations.

“There are no political gods. No genuine friendships in politics. Only self-interest. The world of politics is strewn with men of short memories and valiant tongues.”

Spoken by Pawa Trinley Tenzin, a dying Tibetan man who was to spend his last days in exile in Dharamsala, India.

Utopians fantasise that, since the Cold War, the world has risen above power politics, and that collective interest may finally prevail. However, the United States’ unilateral approach to world politics, particularly in the Middle East, demonstrates that this is not the case. So while appealing to philanthropic notions of human rights is incredibly tempting, when faced with the Chinese Government’s treatment of Tibet, they are of rather little value.

It is far more constructive to observe that it is, in fact, in the national interest of China to bring its policies more in line with modern democratic notions of human rights and self-determination, by granting Tibet a level of autonomy, for example. This may seem counterintuitive: if states are said to pursue self-interest and Tibetan autonomy is in Chinese interests, why has autonomy not already been granted? The answer lies in the exceptional domestic governance of China. National interests are determined by a tiny cohort of elites at the head of the Communist Party, with little reference to the attitude of the hapless masses. This simply would not be possible except under Chinese quasi-totalitarian autocracy. This is an anomaly in a realist world: China’s policy does not accurately reflect the national interest of the state.

With regard to the Tibet issue, China sits in a supreme bargaining position. Long ago, the Dalai Lama sacrificed independence as a goal and now merely seeks a level of autonomy and respect for human rights. China need not sacrifice a great deal of control over the treasure trove of Tibet to come to an agreement that would alleviate international pressure and condemnation. Its primary interests in Tibet lie in the exploitation of natural resources (chiefly water, uranium and other minerals), the use of Tibet’s altitude and proximity to India to secure its defence interests in the region, and the use of the large and relatively empty geographical expanse to help alleviate the overpopulation of China. Given the Tibetans’ lack of bargaining power in these situations, conceding a degree of autonomy is unlikely to affect these interests.

Furthermore, if China’s stance does not change, a confrontation between it and the democratised world seems inevitable. The Chinese Government’s treatment of its minorities, particularly Tibetans and the Uighur people of former East Turkistan, clearly infringes upon the human rights rhetoric that now permeates both domestic and international politics in most of the world. Moreover, by being situated on the ‘roof of the world’, Tibet is the world’s most valuable water source. It is the source of seven of Asia’s greatest rivers, which provide water for two billion people. The control of Tibet’s water allows China a powerful geopolitical lever over Asia: a frightening prospect to many.

By adding to the threat perceived by the West, the aggressiveness of China’s domestic and foreign policies has further contravened its own interests. For the first time in modern history, the world is faced with the prospect of the hegemony of a non-democratic power. China’s crackdowns on intellectual dissent and its censorship – both of material accessible by its own population, and of information allowed to escape to the outside world – are seen as an unacceptable restriction on freedom of speech. This is evinced in such recent events as Google’s withdrawal from the biggest Internet market in the world, and the sentencing of the rights activist Liu Xiaobo to 11 years in jail for drafting a manifesto for constitutional and democratic government.

In failing to act in accordance with modern human rights standards, China plays a dangerous game. The present Government seems perfectly willing to antagonise its neighbours on a whim, with little regard for its own alienation. The expansionist policies that drove it to invade Tibet and East Turkistan have shown little signs of halting. China now claims the historically Indian province of Arunachal Pradesh as part of China, due to its large Tibetan population. Recently, a Chinese map also depicted the Indian province of Kashmir as an independent country. The risk of conflict between these two emerging powers has risen dramatically since Tibet was annexed and the geographical separation of the two states came to an end. China has India geopolitically surrounded, with strategically placed naval bases and a newly solidified relationship with Nepal.

Currently, China is buying the compliance of the West. It relies on the great economic influence that it holds over the world, with very few states able to afford to upset their chief trading partner. However, this will not last. In the 1960s, the U.S. is alleged to have directed covert CIA operations that assisted the Tibetan independence movement, in an effort to counter Chinese communism. Many Chinese news sources continue to allege that Western support lies behind Tibetan resistance movements, including the 2008 riots. The Chinese Government has cause to worry: whilst the perceived threat of communism may have diminished, the U.S. certainly retains an interest in containing China. As China’s provocation continues and causes political anxiety to take the place of economic avarice, the West may soon begin to place its long-term security interests before short-term economic vitality.

The costs to China of preventing such a reaction are negligible when compared to the detrimental effects of confrontation or hostility. The Chinese economy is highly sustained by exports and, to a large extent, is also dependent on amicable relations with its trading partners. It is also still at a sufficiently early stage in economic development where a war, or even an embargo, could be crippling.

The Chinese Government has the unique ability to effect change rapidly and decisively. This is the virtue of autocratic governance: a policy need not be politically popular for it to be invoked in the pursuit of self-interest. In fact, at the moment, what is more important for China’s national interest is the international popularity of its policies. The liberal human rights discourse of the democratic world has caused China’s interests to converge somewhat with collective interests. The two are not mutually exclusive, as is so often assumed; one merely has to look to China’s recent, purely self-serving carbon emission cuts to observe this. Selfish intentions do not equate to negative outcomes, and the most productive way to encourage China to cooperate is to frame it in its own national interest, and ensure that the costs of non-compliance outweigh the benefits. Failure to acknowledge this could have dire ramifications for that quintessential goal of the liberal tradition: world peace.