From Malouines to Falklands

There is more than plain hypocrisy involved in the British Premier's recent charge of 'colonialism' against Argentina for laying claim to the Falkland Islands, says Jeremy Seabrook.

UNTIL 1982, the British 'possession' of the Malvinas in the south Atlantic was a matter of such indifference to the people of Britain that surveys, conducted soon after the re-taking of the islands by Argentina, suggested a majority thought the 'Falklands' were situated somewhere near the coast of Scotland. Ignorance, however, has rarely posed an obstacle to indignation or patriotic fervour.

These islands have a long history. 'Discovered' in the 16th century, the unoccupied territory was 'explored' in 1690 by an Englishman. French sailors from St Malo colonised them - hence their name, Malouines in French, Malvinas in Spanish. The Spanish ejected the French in the mid-18th century, and a small British colony was abandoned in 1774. In 1820, Argentina, free from Spain, started a settlement, which lasted until 1833, when the British seized the islands, evicted the Argentines, peopled them with British 'migrants' and maintained control until 1982.

The people of Britain, largely unaware of the site of their distant possession, were soon to be instructed by their wise leader, Margaret Thatcher, who, following the recapture of the even more desolate territory of South Georgia by the British, appeared on the threshold of Downing Street in a spirit of high exultation, urging her compatriots to 'Rejoice'. This was swiftly followed by the dispatch of a 'task force' to re-take the islands from the then rulers of Argentina, a junta headed by the unappetising figure of General Galtieri. Efforts at mediation by international powers could not prevent the Falklands War, with its tragic sacrifice of life for the great patriotic glory of Thatcher (who, deeply unpopular, neverthleless won the 1983 election by a landslide) and the chastisement of the Argentine military, the fall of Galtieri and the re-establishment of civilian government.

In the run-up to the 30th anniversary of the 1982 war, news that a mock invasion by Argentine fishermen was planned provoked an astonishing outburst by British Prime Minister David Cameron, who warned the Argentine authorities that any attempt to reclaim the islands would be an act of 'colonialism'. The Ministry of Defence had 'contingency plans' to defend them.  Cameron had convened a National Security Council summit for the express purpose of discussing military protection of the islands. It was also announced that Prince William is to be posted there as a search-and-rescue pilot. 

The Malvinas remain a British Overseas Territory. Its GDP is around $100 million. Its tiny population (less than 3,000), an outpost of archaic British imperial enthusiasm, in its desire for 'self-determination', declared itself committed in perpetuity to remaining British. British enthusiasm for the sacred principle of self-determination here was certainly not matched by its response to the inhabitants of Diego Garcia, also a British Overseas Territory, who had to be evicted in 1971 because the United States wanted the island as a military base. And this high ideal is not matched everywhere else in the world where Britain has been swift to de-legitimate the desires of others - Palestinians or Kurds for instance - for self-determination.

The struggle over the Malvinas in 1982 was recast by the British (as every dispute with authoritarian foreigners has been) as a replay of the war against Hitler. In a memorable phrase, Thatcher announced to the world, in defiance of history, 'We do not appease dictators.'

And so the situation has remained for 30 years. The British have expanded 'facilities', including an airport, called Mount Pleasant. Fishing, tourism and agriculture have made the islands 'self-sufficient' in everything but defence. Cruise-ships carrying more passengers than people who live on the islands, now frequently call at Port Stanley.

Even in 1982, it was a matter of some incredulity that more than 900 lives had been sacrificed over the ownership of a few rocks some 12,000 miles from the 'home' country - the equivalent of one life for every three occupants of those fortunate isles. This was, proportionately, by far the bloodiest war ever fought by a Britain whose leaders evince such an enduring fondness for armed conflict.

Cameron's outburst - also a flagrant denial of history - was profoundly indicative of that elusive quality, his 'real' feelings, which are, for the most part, successfully enveloped in the ectoplasm of his public-relations persona. That a leader of what has been the most ruthless practitioner of imperialism in history should accuse Argentina of colonialism, a country which has itself scarcely been untouched by Britain's imperial adventures (particularly during the Napoleonic Wars), suggests a rewriting of history worthy of any totalitarian state.

Secondly, his dedication to the legacy of Thatcher is such that he perhaps dreams of rekindling the patriotic fervour which she evoked in the people by arousing their somnolent dreams of supremacy when Britain's navy crossed the world in April 1982 to quell the errant Argies. Perhaps he even yearns for a repeat of that wild access of popularity when his idol, Britain's warrior-queen, swept all before her in the 1983 election. There is, after all, nothing like a good war for electoral purposes, particularly one in which a feeble enemy can be elevated into a major threat to our security.

But none of this touches the most crucial reason for Britain's adherence to this offshore corner of the world that is forever England. The interdiction by Mercosur (the agreement between Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay and Uruguay, signed in 1991, to promote trade and the interests of its member states) of ships flying the flag of the Falkland Islands, reminds him that the leaders of South America are far from the tyrants, juntas and strongmen they were 30 years ago. Its growing economic and political power ought to prompt a new restraint and sobriety on Britain's part. Instead, Cameron falls back upon menaces that no longer make the world tremble. But the imperial nostalgia is not gratuitous: proprietorship of this piece of surreal-estate in the south Atlantic gives Britain a right to share in the bountiful resources of the region, including Antarctica, especially on that happy day when the polar ice-cap retreats, leaving exposed the millennial treasures which will then be ours for the taking.

This is why the apparent petulance of Cameron's response to what was to have been a purely symbolic 'landing' by fishermen, perhaps to place flags on the Malvinas and South Georgia, should not be taken at face value. That he could so readily elevate it into something resembling a casus belli, suggests how little is changed in a Britain where leaders can so readily tap into ancient xenophobias and misplaced contempt for lesser peoples, to nourish the management of perpetual downward mobility and, at the same time, reassert implausible claim to the resources to which they still imagine Providence has assured them superior rights.

Jeremy Seabrook is a freelance journalist based in the UK.

*Third World Resurgence No. 257/258, January/February 2012, pp 35-36