Think Small

When it comes to foreign affairs, President Donald Trump prefers to think big, bold and beautiful.

But as the president and his newly minted Secretary of State Marco Rubio digest the double-entendres contained in congratulatory cables from Russia, China and the European Union, spare an ear for the raucous realms of micronations, where the borders are as thin as fiddle string and their laudatory reaction to Trump’s inauguration ricocheted around the world with the fanfare of a boiled egg.

First up, Sealand – a micro nation situated on a rusted WWII-era sea fort in the North Sea. Prince Michael, the self-styled sovereign of this metal kingdom barely larger than a football field, took to broadcasting his congratulations to "The Donald" from his radio tower, which conveniently doubled as his throne room and presidential suite.

“To the Don of the Land,” the prince bellowed over his crackling airwaves, “may your waves be as strong as our fortifications, and may your walls be as impenetrable as ours!”

Meanwhile, across the Atlantic in the desolate expanses of Nevada, President Kevin Baugh of Molossia, an unrecognized sovereign state the size of a few acres in the midst of the sand-swept wilderness, threw a lavish inauguration party for Trump. Baugh, sporting his ceremonial sash made from recycled polyester, declared, “In Molossia, we believe in big things coming in small packages. Trump's victory is a testament to that.”

Not to be outdone, tucked away in the hills of Liguria, Italy, the Principality of Seborga declared a national day of mourning – not for Trump's reelection, but for the loss of the novelty of surprise. Prince Marcello I, the self-proclaimed ruler of this tiny village-state with a population barely cracking 300, lamented, “I was rooting for a plot twist, something unexpected. Now, what will the tabloids write about? We are too small to be interesting without a good scandal.”

As the news spread across the tiny kingdoms, so did the gossip and conspiracy theories. Rumors flew through Sealand's barracks that Trump was considering buying the fort as a summer retreat, complete with a golf course on the helipad. Molossians debated whether Trump Tower Molossia could be a viable investment, while Seborgans wondered if first lady Melania Trump might adopt the local lemon as her signature fruit, boosting their economy.

In a rare show of unity, the leaders of Sealand, Molossia, and Seborga convened virtually on a live-streamed chat to discuss the implications of Trump's victory on their global standing. Prince Michael, adjusting his crown of rust and barnacles, mused, “we must stay vigilant. The winds of change blow strong, but Sealand stands firm like our sea legs.” President Baugh, reclining in a hammock strung between two Joshua trees, nodded sagely. “Indeed, in Molossia, we build walls not to keep others out, but to keep ourselves in.”

Prince Marcello, sipping espresso outside his local trattoria, raised a toast to the camera. “Let us remember, my friends, that while our lands may be small, our hearts are big and our spirits unyielding.” The virtual summit ended with a spirited rendition of “We Are the World,” broadcasted live on their respective YouTube channels and watched by dozens.

As the sun set on their tiny realms, each leader retired to their respective thrones – a deck chair, a lawn chair, and a folding chair, respectively – pondering the future. What will the next four years bring? Will their nations rise to even greater heights of global irrelevance, or will they fade into the obscurity from which they emerged? Only time will tell, and time, like the borders of micro nations, was often a matter of perspective.