Throughout history, borders have marked the end of one nation and the beginning of another. Over time, civilisations have flourished and disappeared, conquered and been conquered. 

Friends have turned into foes and back again.

Some borders – like the one marking the line between Asia and Europe, through the Ural Mountains – are defined by geography. Others are manmade, like the many straight lines drawn over the map of Africa. Others are social: Driving from Helsinki to Tammenfors in Finland, you cross not one but two borders. 

The first one is a natural border, called “susiraja”, and runs only a few miles north of Helsinki, and marks the transition into wolf territory. 

The second one is less defined, related to the location of people in Finland and can be found just south of Tavastehus, the current demographic centre of Finland. This border is not constant but moves further south each year, as more and more people leave the northern regions to relocate in the south. 

Further east, in Russia, not only national borders but also entire populations have regularly been moved and shifted around, often with force, making the interconnections between people and land a complicated and messy matter. 

This confusion was created on purpose, as the Soviet leaders wanted people to be in conflict with one another instead of fighting their rulers. The plan succeeded, at the expense of the Russian people, who were linked (through the past) to places that had been their homes for generations, even though they now lived in new, strange and foreign places. 

One of the best-known examples of humans not only moving but changing entire landscapes was the Soviet depletion of the Aral Sea, roughly translating to the “Sea of Islands”, referring to the more than thousands of islands that once dotted its waters. 

Modern fashion garments are usually made by cotton, and so the Soviet leaders began growing cotton over vast areas, in places where the plant was not native. Everyone who lived around the Aral Sea – from school teachers and housewives to doctors and children – had to pick cotton, which needed so much water that nothing else could grow, leading to a massive wasteland and the drastic change of the sea into the Aralkum Desert. 

Harbour towns, on the shores of what used to be the world’s fourth largest lake, and where generations had survived from fishing had to be abandoned, as there was no longer any water (or fish) in sight. 

The situation was further exasperated by the construction of large dams, forcing the water to find different ways through what was now essentially a desert. The event has been called “one of the planet’s worst environmental disasters” by former United Nations Secretary General Ban Ki-moon. 

What once was a flourishing ecosystem can become void in a matter of years. 

But left on its own, life can reappear and both plants and animals return. 

The world as we see it is a reflection of previous generations’ actions and desires. 

There is no need for the future to repeat the mistakes of the past. 

If we decide to start respecting the laws of nature, and stop enforcing unnatural developments, everyone – humans, animals and plants alike – will thrive. 

Former human errors should be studied, and the natural landscape respected, so that we better know how to develop sustainable infrastructures, holistic farming and natural borders. 

Further reading

Ryzard Kapuściński 

Empire (original Polish title Imperium)

Published in 1993, translated and published in English in 1994.