Discover the curious case of Bir Tawil, a trapezoid of land in the Nubian Desert between Egypt and Sudan that could be the world’s last ‘Terra Nullius’.
The Egyptian-Sudanese border is a geopolitical anomaly, filled with territorial disputes, shifting allegiances, and historical complexity.
Among its oddities, one place stands out: Bir Tawil, a trapezoidal stretch of desert that neither Egypt nor Sudan claims. It has been called one of the last true examples of Terra Nullius—land unclaimed by any nation.
However, as I discovered on an expedition to this barren expanse in 2022, the reality of Bir Tawil is far more complex.
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The Cartographic Quirk That Created Bir Tawil
To understand why Bir Tawil exists, we have to go back to the late 19th and early 20th centuries. In 1899, when Britain and Egypt established joint rule over Sudan, they delineated a border that placed the Halaib Triangle under Egyptian administration and Bir Tawil under Sudanese control.
This arrangement lasted only three years. In 1902, British authorities redrew the boundary, assigning Bir Tawil to Egypt and the Halaib Triangle to Sudan. This was not an arbitrary switch—Halaib, located along the Red Sea coast, was far more valuable, while Bir Tawil was an arid wasteland of little strategic interest.
Fast forward to Sudanese independence in 1956, and both nations wanted the Halaib Triangle. Egypt, citing the 1899 border, claimed it as Egyptian territory, while Sudan argued that the 1902 demarcation placed it under Sudanese control. But there was a catch: claiming Halaib meant adhering to one of these borders, and in both cases, Bir Tawil belonged to the other country.
Egypt refused to claim Bir Tawil, as doing so would require surrendering Halaib. Sudan took the same stance. Thus, Bir Tawil became a cartographic orphan—an unclaimed landmass in the middle of the Nubian Desert.
Read more: 11 Best Places to Visit in Sudan
Bir Tawil: The Myth of an Unclaimed Land
For decades, Bir Tawil was largely ignored. It wasn’t until the rise of modern adventurism and micronationalism that the world began paying attention. Maps marked Bir Tawil as Terra Nullius (a ‘no man’s land’ claimed no sovereign nation), and the idea of a lawless land, free for the taking, was too tempting for some to resist.
Since the early 2010s, various individuals have attempted to claim Bir Tawil as their own. In 2014, American Jeremiah Heaton famously travelled to Bir Tawil, planted a flag, and declared it the Kingdom of North Sudan, allegedly so his daughter could become a princess.
Russian nationalist Dimitry Zhkharev later declared it the Kingdom of Middle Earth, and Indian adventurer Suyash Dixit announced his own Kingdom of Dixit. These claims were largely symbolic, but they highlighted a growing trend—people assuming that an unclaimed land is the same as an unoccupied one.
In reality, Bir Tawil is neither abandoned nor empty.
Into the Nubian Desert: A Journey to Bir Tawil
In November 2022, I joined a small expedition led by Gareth Johnson, co-founder of Young Pioneer Tours, to explore Bir Tawil. Our group set out from Khartoum, driving north through the vast and unforgiving Nubian Desert.
Johnson had organised previous trips to Bir Tawil, but each one carried uncertainty. This time, he had secured permission from local leaders in Abu Hamad, a remote outpost that serves as the last settlement before the desert takes over entirely.
Several days into our journey, we made camp near what we believed to be the boundary of Bir Tawil. But just as we prepared to cross into the disputed land, Johnson received a satellite phone call. The message was clear: if we entered Bir Tawil, we would be shot.
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The Ababda Tribe: The True Rulers of Bir Tawil
While official maps may not show it, Bir Tawil is home to people who have lived there for centuries. The Ababda, a nomadic Arab-Berber tribe, have long roamed the region, moving between Egypt and Sudan with little regard for colonial-era borders. They know Bir Tawil not as a stateless no-man’s land, but as part of their ancestral territory.
Johnson’s 2019 expedition to Bir Tawil had already encountered the Ababda. At the time, armed tribesmen stopped the group and escorted them to a gold mining camp. There, the expedition members were interrogated but eventually released after negotiations. The Ababda elders made it clear: they considered Bir Tawil their land, and any future visitors would require permission.
For our 2022 trip, we thought we had that permission. But something had changed. The local leadership now rejected our entry, and we were left to ponder why outsiders—especially Westerners—were so fascinated with a barren stretch of desert in the first place.
The Gold Rush and the Future of Bir Tawil
Bir Tawil may lack permanent settlements, but it is far from unused. Gold prospecting is the primary activity here, with Sudanese miners operating in makeshift camps across the desert. While Sudan’s ongoing civil war has disrupted many industries, gold mining remains an economic lifeline, and Bir Tawil is no exception.
The Ababda’s opposition to outside visitors may stem from concerns over sovereignty, or from a desire to protect these mining operations. In an era where resource conflicts fuel unrest across Africa, it is no surprise that those working in Bir Tawil are wary of foreigners with unknown intentions.
The Illusion of a Micronation
Despite its allure to micronationalists, Bir Tawil is not an untouched wilderness waiting for a flag to be planted. It is part of a much older and more complex regional history, one that does not conform to Western notions of unclaimed land.
The adventurers who claim Bir Tawil as their own often overlook the region’s living inhabitants. While Heaton, Zhkharev, and Dixit might view Bir Tawil as a blank slate, the Ababda and other groups who traverse this land see it very differently. Their claim is not one of colonial cartography, but of lived history and survival in one of the harshest environments on Earth.
While Egypt and Sudan continue their diplomatic contest over the Halaib Triangle, Bir Tawil remains unclaimed at the national level—but not unoccupied. The Ababda have drawn their own lines, and they are enforcing them with the means available.
My journey to Bir Tawil ended at its doorstep, turned back by the unseen borders of local power. It served as a reminder that no land is ever truly empty, and that maps, however official, rarely tell the whole story.
For now, Bir Tawil remains an enigma—one that belongs not to micronational dreamers, but to those who have lived in its sands for centuries.
Read more: What is Borderlines? My New Project.
There you have it! The curious case of Bir Tawil. Could this be considered Terra Nullius? Let me know in the comments below.
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