So the Argentines’ want the Falkland Islands “back”.
I use inverted commas because of course it’s well documented that they have rarely, if ever, actually lived there.
I heard a great argument this week that the first “modern” people (we discount any Patagonian Indians – history always discounts the Indians) who ever even visited historically were the so called Malouines.
These blokes emanated from Saint-Malo, which readers of this blog, all being intellectual behemoths, know to be a fishing port in North West France.
They were called Malouines because they were named after Malo, (pronounced as in Phillip) a disciple of Saint Brendan, who of course was Irish and may well have begun that country’s tradition of starting a brawl with a wind up then sitting drinking Guinness and watching the French, Spanish and English etc. going to town on each other.
He probably did it for a bet.
So let’s get this straight, some French guys rocked up, literally, ate a few penguins and pushed off.
For the purposes of navigation they called the clump of islands “ Les Îles Malouines” which to me seems to give the French a stronger case than the Argentines, who as we all know, ne parle pas francais.
These guys did not sail from South America but from France. They came from a buccaneering culture as Saint-Malo was centre of the French pirate economy. At one point they weren’t even French, Saint-Malo declared independence around 1490 and stayed that way for some years.
After les Malouines buggered off ships would pass the island on occasion and note various comments and features on their maps and intermittently stop for a penguin fry up or a “full Falkland” as it was known to the jolly Jack Tars.
Around 1764 those ruddy French bowled up, this time the sponsored official full expedition tour and camped out on one of the islands, presumably sticking up the mandatory flag and whistling La Marseillaise. Just round the corner a couple of months later, unaware of the garlic and cheese contingent who were obviously sitting down congratulating themselves and no doubt munching on an excellent “Penguine Provencale avec Champignons et Huitre”s in what is now East Falkland, John Byron, stout English bloke, swanned in and claimed it all for King George.
Two years later the Spanish “acquired” the French colony and then kicked out the English, later allowing them back after we went home and got Dad and brothers and stood outside their house shouting things about their mum.
To avoid another possible Armada style beating they chucked down the keys to the place but said it was only a lend. No mention of Argentina you’ll notice.
They were not yet ready to import some Welsh blokes to teach them how to play rugby in a bid to civilise the country.
And so it went on, in 1766 we packed it in as we had to fight the Yanks in an away fixture where, as usual, they got the ref’s decision. We left a note under the clock saying it was still our place and we’d only be away from the weekend.
The Spanish stuck it out till 1811 then jacked when it got a bit cold and they had nobody to talk to.
A few years later an American guy, all bigged up with a few years independence under his belt proved he couldn’t sail by crashing into the islands with a starving scurvy ridden crew. He had a pirates licence working for a Buenos Aires suit with the good old Spanish name of Patrick Lynch (I told you it was a Paddy plot). He stuck up the flag of his local River Plate football team and chucked the notes we and the Spanish had left to warn him off.
Argentina wasn’t even really Argentina when they stuck up a prison on their new “colony” in 1828. They flexed their muscles against the Yanks in a row over seal hunting when the French named German born (yes you knew they’d get in here somewhere) Governor impounded their ships and the Americans wiped out the colony in retaliation (think hostages, special forces – nothing changes) leaving a few very dodgy blokes stranded.
Five years later back came the Brits and let the stragglers stay on condition they behaved themselves and realised we owned the place. Being convicted criminals and pirates they fitted right in and one of the Franco/Kraut’s aides, inevitably an Irishman, was appointed as Governor.
The Royal Navy set up shop and all stayed quiet until the Great War when we sailed out and kicked the Germans about in a sea battle with the imaginative title “the Battle of the Falkands Islands” thus ensuring later hostilities would bear more evocative names. They sent five warships to raid the islands but a fleet of our own had turned up for tea the day before so we obliged them with a ruck, winning that one 3-0 with two sent off injured.
All was sleepy again until the next big punch up when the islands resupplied ships which trapped the Graf Spee in the Battle of the River Plate. Ironically the vessel was named after the bloke whose backside we kicked in the 1914 punch up. As is well known the towel was sensibly thrown in by the German skipper who turned his boat into a submarine. (see above)
Now of course the rest is pretty well known. The Argentines call the islands “Islas Malvinas” as they think “Los Falklands” sounds like a tribute flamenco band.
The modern political situation is of course centred around resources and the fact that elections are due in both Argentina and the UK. No incumbent Government can resist that appeal to the patriotic which a good territorial dispute brings but this one is given spice by the possible prospect of a huge oil strike.
I say possible advisedly. The four boreholes which an industry expert commented on recently as having produced “about 2 litres of oil” have nevertheless led to a major drilling investigation in search of the black gold.
Only the hostile conditions and remoteness of the region has prevented earlier exploration and even though the geological survey reveals ideal conditions for an oil field of some size is possible, industry experts put the chances of a major find at “no more than 10%”.
If the black stuff starts to bubble up be prepared for a row which will reverberate world wide.
