Scottish historian and documentarian Crawford looks at the meaning of borders and the power they hold.
Borders are marked by walls, fences, barbed wire, and armed guards. In some places, they’re less martial, as with a “three-country cairn” that marks the junction of Sweden, Norway, and Finland but is buried in snow for much of the year. In other places, borders may not be well marked but can have consequences for the person who crosses them willfully or even in error. In a provocative section of his narrative, Crawford considers the fate of the Alpine “iceman” called Ötzi, who was murdered as he hunted in the mountains, perhaps because he crossed a line that he shouldn’t have. As one archaeologist remarked about certain “cult sites” found in the interceding valleys, “I think these places are markers for territory. If you came from the north, you’d see these places and they show you, that is my territory, or the territory of my community.” Today, of course, the borders extend to the highest peaks, with markers made meaningless at times due to geological upheaval and melting glaciers. Crawford travels widely to make his points in a text reminiscent of those of Barry Lopez or Robert Macfarlane. One fruitful stop finds him at the Roman walls built at the orders of Hadrian and Antoninus Pius, walls that lie far south of the great Roman victory over the Caledonians at the Battle of Mons Graupius. Why did the Romans give up so much territory when it appeared it was theirs to be had? “The end of the world had been reached, grasped and let go,” writes the author, with no apparent explanation at hand. With the increasingly destructive effects of climate change, borders continue to collapse as island countries are disappearing under the waves and refugees flee their devastated homelands, lending Crawford’s musings added timeliness.
A thoughtful consideration of the imaginary lines that hold meaning for so many.