Why Britain is in the wrong over the Falklands

The UK has no legal right to the islands and only defends them to exploit oil and gas reserves.

A few years ago, the Chief of Naval Staff, Admiral Mark Stanhope, informed Chatham House that Britain's role in the world is "wielding a big stick" to "compel others to act in a desired manner." In February, Argentina's Foreign Minister Hector Timerman approached the United Nations to complain about the UK's deployment of a nuclear-armed submarine (of the Vanguard class) in the South Atlantic.

The move was confirmed by the Daily Mail and by the BBC. The latter acknowledged that "The Latin America and the Caribbean region is designated a nuclear-free zone under a treaty signed in the 1960s." The deployment of nuclear weapons in response to Argentina's peaceful efforts to resolve the Falklands/Malvinas issue is not only a grave violation of Chapter 1 Article 2(4) of the UN Charter (which prohibits the threat of force), but a particularly egregious example of "wielding the big stick."

Imagine the boot on the other foot. Imagine if Argentina had occupied the Shetland Islands in the 1800s, expelling the inhabitants. Despite Britain's efforts to resolve the issue peacefully in accordance with various UN Resolutions calling for decolonisation, Argentina continues the occupation and expands fishing and oil drilling into UK territorial waters. Under a military junta, Britain invades the Shetlands, and in doing so is threatened with a nuclear attack.

This is what happened in 1982, with the balance of power reversed. Retired Admiral Richard Heaslip was quoted as saying that "The Argentines had a good navy in 1982. But after we got a nuclear submarine down there they went back to port and never dared venture out." As the vessels were retreating, British missiles sank the Belgrano, thereby escalating the war. Foreign Office records also reveal that the Thatcher government vetoed a Security Council Resolution calling for a ceasefire.

The Law

The Falklands/Malvinas were terra nullius when the French colonised the islands in the 18th century. They were then sold to Spain, a transfer of sovereignty which Britain recognised. However, upon decolonisation and under the principle of uti possidetis, sovereignty should have been transferred to Argentina, which declared independence in 1816. In 1833, Britain expelled the islands' inhabitants. Argentina's Foreign Minister Don Manuel Moreno was told by Prime Minister Palmerston that Argentina "could not reasonably have anticipated that the British Government would permit any other state to exercise a right as derived from Spain which Great Britain had denied to Spain itself."

Writing in the Yale Law Journal, W Michael Reisman affirmed that "Upon acquiring independence, a former colony", i.e. Argentina, "ordinarily inherits all the territory of that colony. This principle, enshrined in Latin America and, a century later, in Africa, would certainly appear to apply to the Falklands [Malvinas]." For Britons, the legal status of the islands is an open-and-shut case: Britain has no legal right to the islands. This has been reiterated at the General Assembly.

General Assembly Resolution 2065 (XX), adopted on 16 December 1965, "Consider[ed] ... the cherished aim of bringing to an end everywhere colonialism in all its forms, one of which covers the Falkland Islands (Malvinas)." The Resolution left it to Argentina and Britain to negotiate the issue using bilateral diplomacy. Britain violated this aspect of the Resolution. As a result, in December 1973, General Assembly Resolution 3160 (XXVIII) "Express[ed] its gratitude for the continuous efforts made by the Government of Argentina ... to facilitate the process of decolonization and to promote the well-being of the population of the island." The Resolution also "Urge[d] the Governments of Argentina [and the UK] ...to put an end to the colonial situation."

Oil, Gas, and Fish

Successive British governments have not only consistently violated the Resolution, but the Chatham House journal International Affairs - like the General Assembly - acknowledged Argentina's peaceful efforts to resolve the issue (except, of course, the 1982 War, for which the previous government has apologised). Guillermo A Makin's paper in the journal recognised that "the use of force has not been a permanent feature of the approach of the various very different Argentine political regimes to the [Malvinas] dispute."

Likewise, recent House of Commons papers note that "The catalyst for the renewed Argentinean sovereignty campaign is believed to have arisen as a result of the Falklands decision in 2005 to grant fishing concessions around the Islands over a 25-year period, rather than by annual renewal," recalling the events of 1986, when the Falkland Islanders unilaterally declared 150 nautical miles of fishing rights. [PDF]

The main issue, of course, is energy. North Sea-size fields were discovered in the 1970s following a UNESCO-sponsored expedition. In 2010, the Wall Street Journal explained that "The Falklands government only takes a 26 per cent share of oil earnings in addition to a 9 per cent royalty on each barrel of oil sold, making it one of the most favourable areas in the world for exploration." A few years ago, the "British firm Rockhopper Exploration discovered a massive natural gas deposit - one that could be as big as 7.9 trillion cubic feet," Money Week reported.

"By 2029 there is expected to be a considerable increase in demand for energy. In particular gas will be of increasing importance as states struggle to maintain energy supplies," the Ministry of Defence explained [PDF]. "Many boundary disputes, such as those in the Arctic, Gulf of Guinea and the South Atlantic will become inextricably linked to the securing of energy supplies." Does anyone seriously think that were it not for the oil and gas, 1,400 soldiers (around one per islander) would be deployed at a cost of £40 million a year to defend a bunch of rocks that few Britons could find on a map?

TJ Coles is a PhD candidate at Plymouth University

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Is there such a thing as responsible betting?

Punters are encouraged to bet responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly.

I try not to watch the commercials between matches, or the studio discussions, or anything really, before or after, except for the match itself. And yet there is one person I never manage to escape properly – Ray Winstone. His cracked face, his mesmerising voice, his endlessly repeated spiel follow me across the room as I escape for the lav, the kitchen, the drinks cupboard.

I’m not sure which betting company he is shouting about, there are just so many of them, offering incredible odds and supposedly free bets. In the past six years, since the laws changed, TV betting adverts have increased by 600 per cent, all offering amazingly simple ways to lose money with just one tap on a smartphone.

The one I hate is the ad for BetVictor. The man who has been fronting it, appearing at windows or on roofs, who I assume is Victor, is just so slimy and horrible.

Betting firms are the ultimate football parasites, second in wealth only to kit manufacturers. They have perfected the capitalist’s art of using OPM (Other People’s Money). They’re not directly involved in football – say, in training or managing – yet they make millions off the back of its popularity. Many of the firms are based offshore in Gibraltar.

Football betting is not new. In the Fifties, my job every week at five o’clock was to sit beside my father’s bed, where he lay paralysed with MS, and write down the football results as they were read out on Sports Report. I had not to breathe, make silly remarks or guess the score. By the inflection in the announcer’s voice you could tell if it was an away win.

Earlier in the week I had filled in his Treble Chance on the Littlewoods pools. The “treble” part was because you had three chances: three points if the game you picked was a score draw, two for a goalless draw and one point for a home or away win. You chose eight games and had to reach 24 points, or as near as possible, then you were in the money.

“Not a damn sausage,” my father would say every week, once I’d marked and handed him back his predictions. He never did win a sausage.

Football pools began in the 1920s, the main ones being Littlewoods and Vernons, both based in Liverpool. They gave employment to thousands of bright young women who checked the results and sang in company choirs in their spare time. Each firm spent millions on advertising. In 1935, Littlewoods flew an aeroplane over London with a banner saying: Littlewoods Above All!

Postwar, they blossomed again, taking in £50m a year. The nation stopped at five on a Saturday to hear the scores, whether they were interested in football or not, hoping to get rich. BBC Sports Report began in 1948 with John Webster reading the results. James Alexander Gordon took over in 1974 – a voice soon familiar throughout the land.

These past few decades, football pools have been left behind, old-fashioned, low-tech, replaced by online betting using smartphones. The betting industry has totally rebooted itself. You can bet while the match is still on, trying to predict who will get the next goal, the next corner, the next throw-in. I made the last one up, but in theory you can bet instantly, on anything, at any time.

The soft sell is interesting. With the old football pools, we knew it was a remote flutter, hoping to make some money. Today the ads imply that betting on football somehow enhances the experience, adds to the enjoyment, involves you in the game itself, hence they show lads all together, drinking and laughing and putting on bets.

At the same time, punters are encouraged to do it responsibly. What a laugh that is. It’s like encouraging drunks to get drunk responsibly, to crash our cars responsibly, murder each other responsibly. Responsibly and respect are now two of the most meaningless words in the football language. People have been gambling, in some form, since the beginning, watching two raindrops drip down inside the cave, lying around in Roman bathhouses playing games. All they’ve done is to change the technology. You have to respect that.

Hunter Davies is a journalist, broadcaster and profilic author perhaps best known for writing about the Beatles. He is an ardent Tottenham fan and writes a regular column on football for the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 05 February 2015 issue of the New Statesman, Putin's war