Mirage Island

In the waters surrounding the coast of Suffolk is an iron structure standing tall shrouded in the frosted mists of the North Sea. The two towers of this floating fortress are bridged by a platform and was constructed as a naval point of defence providing a physical deterrence to the possibility of nautical invasion and was supplied with anti-aircraft capabilities during the Second World War. However, if you was to traverse the seafaring route to the site today, you would bear witness to the very same structure being lapped by the moving cerulean and notice a flag of red, white and black billowing in the salted wind. This is the micronation of Sealand.

The original name of this construction was H.M Rough and was one of many erected along the sea. The final maintenance personnel of the seaborne forts abandoned them in 1956 for them to be consumed by the elements. Yet, no-one could have predicted the rise of ‘pirate radio’; wholly independent radio stations illegally operated by individuals and organisations without government restriction. The 1960s’ saw a proliferation of this practice, with the popularity driven principally by broadcasting the media that the British Broadcasting Corporation refused.

These ‘radio pirates’ would often operate in abandoned buildings that had not seen a visitor for years, unused barns on windswept fields in the furthest reaches of the countryside, and eventually transmitting their rogue media on boats at sea. These sites were particularly attractive locations for radio broadcasting due to their immediate distance from anyone, especially the authorities, and had the capacity to store all necessary radio equipment. One of these pirates was former military officer, Patrick Roy Bates, who occupied the mentioned iron tower in the sea in 1968. Bates was previously convicted of operating an unauthorised radio station on the British mainland and, upon receiving legal advice, established Sealand as it stands today.

This was possible through the principle of ‘jus gentium’, that land can legally come under a new occupant’s ownership after an extended period of abandonment by the original inhabitant. Regarding Sealand, formally H.M Rough, the British state had vacated the premises twelve years at this point, providing the legal strength behind Bate’s claim. The founding of this new micronation took place on the 2nd of September 1968, with Bates gifting his wife, Joan, the title of ‘Princess of Sealand’ before crowning himself ‘Prince of Sealand’, founding their own marine principality.

News of this freshly established territory was covered extensively in the media which caught the attention of the British government. Due to the advance communism and the strengthening grip of the Soviet Union during this period in history, the Palace of Westminster speculated that Sealand had the potential of becoming a grave security risk, with some going as far to label the micronation as a possible ‘new Cuba’ on the coast of England. The existence of this micronation was considered to possess an excessive risk and the British government drafted plans to see the demolition of all the abandoned naval towers, with the ultimate goal being the tearing down of Sealand.

A ship hosting the Royal Navy arrived on the strait, accompanied by a helicopter carrying a bounty of explosives. As the days passed, the line the towers shorted one by one, tumbling into the sea after an enormous explosion. This path of destruction continued until Sealand was a lonesome structure in the water that now commanded the full attention of the offensive front. Charred flotsam littered the waters lapping Sealand’s towers as the demolition crew moved in.

At this moment Sealand was being inhabited by Michael and Jane, son and daughter of Bates, who were the subject of a barrage of abuse and threats in an attempt to get them to voluntarily flee the structure, since the site could not legally brought down with people being on it. With the ship docking, Michael, in an act of bravery, fired a warning shot into the air with a rifle to send a clear signal of his authority over this nautical place. With that one act, the Royal Navy’s demolition operation collapsed in an instant, with both the ship and the helicopter performing an immediate retreat.

Consequentially, Bates and his son were summoned before British courts on firearms charges, but they managed to escape the jaws of the prison system through a landmark ruling. The case against them was dismissed on the grounds of Sealand being outwith the United Kingdom’s territorial waters. This meant that English law did not apply on Sealand and that no crime was committed, due to a lack of a legal system on the seaborne settlement. This ruling provided the legal basis for the existence of Sealand as a legitimate micronation, with a legal basis having vigorous existential strength and possessing value akin to antiquarian gems.

In the decades that followed, Bates designed and produced various features common to nation states like Sealand’s flag of red and black with a diagonal white dividing stripe and a heraldic crest, which is a shield coloured in the micronation’s flag with knight helm sitting upon it, flanked by two aquatic lions whose crowned manes fall onto scaled fishtails. Currency for Sealand was also minted; coins of copper, silver and gold emblazoned with the crest and the orca whale, as well as all-black passports titled ‘Sealand’ accompanied with the mentioned crest.

Sealand has experienced a revival of interest in recent years and one can purchase a variety of themed merchandise from their official website. Items for sale include the expected, like t-shirts, flags, keyrings and mugs, but unique curiosities are also on offer. For a fee, you can become a Lord/Lady, Baron/Baroness, Duke/Duchess or receive a knighthood to give yourself the honorific of Sir/Dame. Other wares of interest include a Sealand identity card similar to those on the European continent, a copy of the Sealand constitution, stamps, and a framed declaration that you own a parcel of the land present on the sea fort. You can also purchase the book ‘Holding the Fort’ by Bates’ son Michael in which details the history of the floating micronation in a much more comprehensive than what is penned here.

Prince Patrick sadly passed away in 2012, with Princess Joan joining her husband in eternity in 2016. Michael, the very same that defended the country all those years ago, has inherited the title of Prince of Sealand. I contacted the monarch and he was kind enough to compose the following words detailing the life of Fruitcake, the first cat of Sealand.

‘‘My family have always liked cats and I grew up around them. My father was sitting in the RSPCA Southend-on-Sea Essex way back in the early sixties looking for a rescue dog for my grandfather whose dog had sadly been run over in an accident.

A woman opposite him was holding a basket on her lap which was pitching violently from side to side. Dad asked her, ‘‘What do you have in there? A tiger?’’ ‘‘A nightmare kitten.’’ said the lady, ‘‘It’s up and down the curtains and wrecking my house. I’m at my wits end. So, I’m here to have her put down. I can’t cope anymore.’’ The lady opened the basket to show him the monster lurking behind the wicker cover. Large, golden, yellow eyes stared out at the old man. He was instantly ‘smitten’. ‘‘I’ll have her.’’ he said, snatching the furry bundle from her grasp. And that is how ‘Fruitcake’ came to be a great part of my young life. She was, I have been told, a ‘farmhouse’ cat, with dark and orange colouring with a golden bib under her chin, gifting her the general colouring of a fruitcake.

We didn’t have a garden at home. To compensate, my dad bought a beach hut at Thorpe bay in Essex. We used it all the year round and often would take Fruitcake to the beach with us on cold, stormy winter days. A product of my generation, I was shipped off to boarding school in North Wales when I was about ten and every school holiday, two or three days before I was due home, Fruitcake, my mother told me, would go up to my room in the attic ready to welcome me home. It was uncanny how she knew.

It was about this time that my father got involved with the ‘pirate radio’ phenomenon. He had taken over the ‘Knock John’ forts way out in the Thames estuary to broadcast his station ‘Radio Essex’ to the masses. It was exciting times. I was home for my Christmas holidays when dad announced we were going to stay in the fort for a week or so and mum was going to cook the staff of engineers and the DJ’s Christmas dinner. It sounded great fun.

‘‘What about Fruitcake?’’ asked mother, ‘‘We can’t just leave her here alone with no one to look after her.’’ Dad stroked his chin as he ruminated for an answer to the problem. ‘‘I know!’’ he announced, ‘‘We will take her with us.’’ So that’s how Fruitcake ended up far out at sea on Christmas Day 1965. I don’t think she was very impressed with the trip on a smelly old fishing boat, even though the old man had given her a sedative to keep her calm that he had got from our local vet. When we got up onto the fort, the first thing dad did was pick her up and show her not to jump up on the rail in case she tumbled over the side into the sea far below. I can still see her shocked face as she strolled around the fortress and nearly put her foot through a small hole in the deck that was originally for pipework, the white topped waves rolling around far below. She settled in and seemed to enjoy the time with family and staff and there were no problems on the way home. 1967 saw our intrepid moggy once more at sea on the same old fishing boat heading out to Sealand, our new home further out into the North Sea. This time there were no sedatives, the boat trip was twice as long and she spent a month with just our little family over Christmas.

She lived a long life for a cat and when it came time to meet her maker she made sure she waited for me to come home before taking her last breath as I came through the door. We buried her under a rose bush and when I moved we took the bush with us. We now have another ‘Fruitcake’ in the family since that little lady and she has that same tremendous character.’’

Composed by,

Prince Michael of Sealand. Foreward by Maurice Alexander, Undergraduate of Business Management at the University of Aberdeen