I have a question that I think serves as a primer for what I want to say. How thick are the lines between nations?

Even I think this is a stupid question. Of course borders don't have thickness, they're simply two-dimensional dividers between the land of one people and the land of another. But, I would then ask, how does a 2D plane intersecting the Earth consisting of nothing but air restrict where you or I can travel? Again, the question is sort of stupid. Of course they don't physically restrict travel, borders are simply a mutual acknowledgement of autonomy and so they are (usually) respected.

But in a way, don't they in practice restrict physical movement? For those who don't wish for trouble, those who are content where they are, and those afraid of the consequences of crossing a border without permission, it does, and I would argue that is most people. And so these invisible boundary lines drawn maybe generations ago restrict the travel of a majority of the human population. This isn't necessarily a bad thing either. In a lot of places, this non-existent two-dimensional plane is the only thing standing between all-out war and an uneasy yet relatively stable peace.

And so I think it's safe to say that we invented something that doesn't exist. Something abstract, metaphysical in nature. Of course, if you had given this much thought before, all of this may seem obvious. But isn't it interesting how our imaginary lines divide so well a world we have changed drastically for ourselves? These invisible boundary lines carry so much weight, more so than the material world around us. Ideas can't kill a person directly, but our ideas can set in motion things in the material world that extinguish countless lives. Much the opposite is true, some ink on a piece of paper can remove limits on population and create many new lives.

We create these barriers, these nonexistent lines that separate one thing from another. At the atomic level, it would be hard to say exactly where ocean ends and a ship begins. Water molecules soaked into the hull of the ship don't count as ocean, or do they? What about a leak in the ship? Is everything under the leak part of the ocean, or is the ship simply partially under the ocean? When in the process of sinking does a ship become a shipwreck? If, over an extended period of time, I replaced every plank of wood on the ship with a new piece of wood, is it the same ship?

Of course, the last question is Theseus's Paradox. I'm sure you've all heard it. So, what's the answer, is it the same ship, or a new ship? In other words, when does the invisible boundary line around the ship break, and when is a new one formed?

So if we're in full control of these imaginary lines, why do we have questions like this? Nothing in nature or the universe (other than us) is making these lines absolute.

I think that the ship is the same ship if we want it to be. It isn't if we don't want it to be.

Maybe the real question isn't "is it the same ship?", it's "do you want it to be the same ship?".

It must be the same with all other invisible boundary lines. Do we want them to exist? Do they benefit us? In the case of borders, sometimes yes, sometimes no. But what of all of the other barriers we've erected? What if we made a world with only boundaries that protect us and none that restrict us?

Don't take me as too much of an optimist. Of course, we all disagree on good and evil. I'd imagine if these walls were real, they would all always be simultaneously both built up and broken down.

I think this is an important question to ask almost anywhere. Where should we have structure? Where should we not have structure? How do we determine when we need structure? Who or what should we trust with the ability to determine when we need structure? I think these may be the defining questions for all people, and yet for many, the answer seems to be a given. For example, if you ask a biologist what makes a group of animals part of the same species, the answer will be much more complex than "they look alike" or "they're genetically similar" or "they can reproduce together". However, if you asked if a wolf was the same species as the rest of its pack, they would immediately say "of course!". Instead of holding on so desperately to categories that aren't useful, why don't we just make new categories? And when those categories and rendered invalid by new information, we again make new, more accurate categories.

I should probably end this soon. What I think I'm trying to say is that what we can imagine affects us, but it can be changed by us. Furthermore, what we imagine can affect the real world, and so it is in our best interest to imagine things that benefit us and not get so caught up on things we can change so easily.