[Quick note: I anticipate slowing down the cadence of the newsletter. An indefinite hiatus is also not out of the question (nor is a potential change of topic). Turns out esearching and writing a free newsletter for declining readership every week for three years is tough.]
The Republic celebrated its independence on the first of May. The occasion kicked off with a meeting aimed at forming an inaugural government. The state’s founder and namesake appointed himself president, likely to little or no pushback. Further roles were assigned to tackle communications, law and tourism. Currency was established (reports differ as to whether it was produced), and a flag designed, featuring a trio of roses on a white inset, surrounded by a loud, orange background.
The Libera Teritorio de la Insulo de la Rozoj would, however, mark its second Independence Day in a million pieces on the seabed. Nothing about Rose Island’s short history proved easy.
Its conception stretched back a decade.
“In the immediate post-war period, with a degree in industrial mechanical engineering, I threw myself headlong into the design of construction sites,” president Giorgio Rosa would reflect, decades later. “My passion, however, remained the sea and so it was that in 1957 I began to think of a work that could withstand the impetus of the waves. Only in 1964 I started the tests: it was a question of building the structure on the ground and then float her out to sea where the bottom was accessible.”
The island was the brainchild of Rosa and wife, Gabriella Chierici. Prior to running a sovereign state, Rosa worked as a professor of engineering. The pedigree served him well, though only after years of trial and error. The Italian Patent and Trademark Office granted him patent no. 850.987 for a “system for the construction of islands in steel and reinforced concrete for industrial and civil purposes.” It was an ingenuous piece of engineering that helped produce a minor architectural marvel four years after initial experimentation.
The 400 x 400-meter structure was built in pieces on the beach. Nine pylons were created and floated out to predetermined destination 6.27 nautical miles off the coast of Rimini – roughly 300 meters outside of Italy’s territorial waters.
Once in place, one end was filled with water to sink it down to the seabed. Steel tubes were inserted in each and concrete was poured to solidify the once hollow innards. "It was a modular system,” Rosa’s son, Lorenzo later explained, “he used these pipes — kind of like stilts — which were empty inside and then they would inject concrete in which made it very stable and very strong to hold the island."
The foundation was strong enough and the platform large enough to contain residential housing, a souvenir shop for tourists, bar, restaurant and post office. The latter provided daily service to mainland Italy, courtesy of Rose Island-produced stamps. The seabed was drilled, exposing a aquifer that delivered freshwater to the residents.
On June 24th, the island held a press conference, inviting reporters and photographers to document life on the edge of international waters. Rosa described his vision to, “see the roses blooming on the sea,” in the form of an Esperanto-speaking paradise. Two days later, the Italian police arrived. There was no immediate move to shutter the island, but less than two months after its founding, Libera Teritorio de la Insulo de la Rozoj’s troubles had truly begun.
Word was that Rose Island was utilizing its self-appointed sovereignty to the fullest, plying tourists with gambling and prostitutes, though none of the rumors were ultimately confirmed. Nor was the platform’s alleged use as a pirate radio station – however, speculation was understandable, as the phenomenon had exploded off the coast of the United Kingdom throughout the decade.
The Harbor Office of Rimini ordered the island’s demolition. In response, Rosa and Chierici invoked the Geneva Convention, arguing that 1958’s Convention on the High Seas granted the republic its sovereignty. The appeal was dismissed on the grounds that the law, “did not create enforceable rights for individuals but merely created rights and obligations for Stats as members of the international community.” The government added, “the Italian State with respect to its own citizens and legal persons incorporated under its law, to intervene when such persons are carrying out an activity which might restrain or interfere with the exercise of one of the freedoms of the high seas which the Convention itself recognizes for all contracting States.”
The island’s government was accused of “national security, illegality, tax avoidance, maritime obstruction and pornography” violations. The third point appeared to be the Italian government’s true concern with the operation, as Rosa and Chierici had launched a successful tourist attraction that delivered it zero tax revenue.
The Italian military occupied the island at the beginning of the following year. When attempts to dismantle the structures proved fruitless, naval divers planted dynamite in the foundation. The island had, mercifully, been largely evacuated, though Rosa reported a single casualty, explaining that his dog had been lost amid the explosion.
With Rose Island under the waves, its exiled government issued a few remaining stamps. One captures the platform in the midst of a cartoon explosion. At the bottom, Esperanto text reads, “Hostium rabies diruit opus non ideam." The enemy's rage destroyed the work, not the idea.
Sources:
Rose Island https://www.rose-island.co/
Rose Island: the Building of a Utopia https://www.engineering.com/story/rose-island-the-building-of-a-utopia
Il “libero stato dell’isola delle rose https://web.archive.org/web/20071220203034/http://www.cifr.it/ISOLA%20ROSE_12.pdf
How to Start Your Own Country by Strauss, Erwin S
International Law Reports: Volume 71