Argentina’s "Falklands debt" goes to the heart of our unethical foreign policy

The government should remember our shameful role in arming the junta.

The anniversary of war should be a time for learning the lessons of history - particularly when the injustice of a war continues to this day. Some documents exposed by Jubilee Debt Campaign this week expose a cynical approach to British foreign policy which should shock both British and Argentine citizens.

Argentina’s outstanding debt to the UK is £45 million. This week we have uncovered how much of this debt was run-up. In the years leading up to the Falklands War the British government was flogging one of the most unpleasant dictatorships in the world British weapons. 

A military coup in 1976 brought a wave of terror to Argentina. The ‘dirty war’ which the coup ushered in was a period of state terrorism in which as many as 30,000 people were killed or ‘disappeared’. Political parties and trade unions were banned, whilst religious groups had to apply for approval from the state.

The British government at the time was well aware of the nature of the regime in Argentina. In a document from Foreign Secretary David Owen to the Ministry of Defence in 1979, Owen describes the junta as a “regime whose human rights record is worse than Chile, and which could come close to a confrontation with us over the Falklands.” Pinochet’s Chile faced sanctions at the time, as a result of a policy made by the then government at the previous election. But Argentina faced no such restrictions. 

Owen understood the problems with selling weapons to Argentina, but concluded that “it is not possible to achieve complete consistency in our approach to this problem and that to attempt to do so would impose unreasonable constraints upon us.” As a result Argentina was sold two Type 42 Destroyers, two Lynx helicopters and twenty-two Sea Dart missiles.

These weapons sales - and likely a variety of other military equipment sold - were backed by an effective loan from a British government department called the Export Credits Guarantee Department. Indeed, such a good client was the Argentine junta, that in October 1979 the British raised the amount of loans it could back to Argentina from £100 million to £500 million to “provide room ... for the potential arms contracts.”

Both the destroyers and Lynx helicopters were used in the invasion of the Falklands - one of the Lynx’s was the first Argentine aircraft to land on the Falklands after the invasion. Indeed when the Falklands War was underway, Argentina should still have been paying the British Government for weapons being used against British soldiers.

These issues were aired - including in parliament at the time. What’s worrying is that the replies received are exactly the same replies received by arms campaigners today: when Lord Averbury asked whether it was “unwise to sell military weapons of any kind while the Falklands’ problem remains unresolved?” he was told “the government takes into account the use to which the equipment might be put”.

After defeat in the Falklands Argentina’s military junta was kicked out of power in the 1983 elections. Through the 1980s the economy suffered from the huge foreign debt the government inherited, which led to stagnation and increases in unemployment and poverty. Many argued it was a classic case of ‘odious debt’ and the new government should simply refuse to pay the sorts of debts owed to the UK. Indeed a famous court case in 2000 found that loans to Argentina under the dictatorship were part of "a damaging economic policy that forced [Argentina] on its knees through various methods ... and which tended to benefit and support private companies - national and foreign - to the detriment of society".

In order to keep paying this odious debt, Argentina's governments accumulated ever more debt. New loans repay old debts. By the 1990s, courtesy of advice and bail-out packages from the International Monetary Fund the economy entered a crisis and - after five governments in two weeks over Christmas 2001 - defaulted. The improvement both in the economy and Argentina’s democratic model improved significantly - no thanks to the so-called international community.

What should worry us today is that David Owen was not alone at the time - or indeed since - in placing the interests of the arms industry ahead of being a good global citizen. Owen, like many others after him, expressed ‘reservations’ about some of the arms sales, but in the end narrowly perceived economic and strategic interests won out.

The UK has spent years arming dictators and the debts ‘owed’ to this country can be linked back with some of the worst regimes of the last 40 years - General Suharto of Indonesia, Hosni Mubarak in Egypt, Saddam Hussein in Iraq, not to mention the royal family of Saudi Arabia. At the centre of these deals was the Export Credits Guarantee Department, now rebranded as UK Export Finance and under the stewardship of Vince Cable’s Department of Business.

In opposition, Cable regularly railed against the sorts of deals done with the Argentine junta, and his party promised in power to audit such debts and cancel those deemed reckless. It’s surely difficult to imagine a more reckless loan that one which supported arms sales to Argentina in the late 1970s. The government should use the Falklands anniversary not to wave flags, but to remember our own shameful role in arming an atrocious regimes around the world and make some efforts at recompense - for the lives of British and Argentine soldiers lost. 

Nick Dearden is the director of Jubilee Debt Campaign

Relatives of victims wait to hear the sentences of 30 leaders of the last dictatorship. Photograph: Getty Images.
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The decline of the north's sporting powerhouse

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Now, things are different.

On a drive between Sheffield and Barnsley, I spotted a striking painting of the Kes poster. Billy Casper’s two-fingered salute covered the wall of a once-popular pub that is now boarded up.

It is almost 50 years since the late Barry Hines wrote A Kestrel for a Knave, the novel that inspired Ken Loach’s 1969 film, and it seems that the defiant, us-against-the-world, stick-it-to-the-man Yorkshireness he commemorated still resonates here. Almost two-thirds of the people of south Yorkshire voted to leave the EU, flicking two fingers up at what they saw as a London-based establishment, detached from life beyond the capital.

But whatever happened to Billy the unlikely lad, and the myriad other northern characters who were once the stars of stage and screen? Like the pitheads that dominated Casper’s tightly knit neighbourhood, they have disappeared from the landscape. The rot set in during the 1980s, when industries were destroyed and communities collapsed, a point eloquently made in Melvyn Bragg’s excellent radio series The Matter of the North.

Yorkshire historically acted as a counterweight to the dominance of southern elites, in sport as in politics and culture. Yet today, we rarely get to hear the voices of Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Rotherham. And the Yorkshire sporting powerhouse is no more – at least, not as we once knew it.

This should be a matter of national concern. The White Rose county is, after all, the home of the world’s oldest registered football club – Sheffield FC, formed in 1857 – and the first English team to win three successive League titles, Huddersfield Town, in the mid-1920s. Hull City are now Yorkshire’s lone representative in the Premier League.

Howard Wilkinson, the manager of Leeds United when they were crowned champions in 1992, the season before the Premier League was founded, lamented the passing of a less money-obsessed era. “My dad worked at Orgreave,” he said, “the scene of Mrs Thatcher’s greatest hour, bless her. You paid for putting an axe through what is a very strong culture of community and joint responsibility.”

The best-known scene in Loach’s film shows a football match in which Mr Sugden, the PE teacher, played by Brian Glover, comically assumes the role of Bobby Charlton. It was played out on the muddy school fields of Barnsley’s run-down Athersley estate. On a visit to his alma mater a few years ago, David Bradley, who played the scrawny 15-year-old Billy, showed me the goalposts that he had swung from as a reluctant goalkeeper. “You can still see the dint in the crossbar,” he said. When I spoke to him recently, Bradley enthused about his lifelong support for Barnsley FC. “But I’ve not been to the ground over the last season and a half,” he said. “I can’t afford it.”

Bradley is not alone. Many long-standing fans have been priced out. Barnsley is only a Championship side, but for their home encounter with Newcastle last October, their fans had to pay £30 for a ticket.

The English game is rooted in the northern, working-class communities that have borne the brunt of austerity over the past six years. The top leagues – like the EU – are perceived to be out of touch and skewed in favour of the moneyed elites.

Bradley, an ardent Remainer, despaired after the Brexit vote. “They did not know what they were doing. But I can understand why. There’s still a lot of neglect, a lot of deprivation in parts of Barnsley. They feel left behind because they have been left behind.”

It is true that there has been a feel-good factor in Yorkshire following the Rio Olympics; if the county were a country, it would have finished 17th in the international medals table. Yet while millions have been invested in “podium-level athletes”, in the team games that are most relevant to the lives of most Yorkshire folk – football, cricket and rugby league – there is a clear division between sport’s elites and its grass roots. While lucrative TV deals have enriched ruling bodies and top clubs, there has been a large decrease in the number of adults playing any sport in the four years since London staged the Games.

According to figures from Sport England, there are now 67,000 fewer people in Yorkshire involved in sport than there were in 2012. In Doncaster, to take a typical post-industrial White Rose town, there has been a 13 per cent drop in participation – compared with a 0.4 per cent decline nationally.

Attendances at rugby league, the region’s “national sport”, are falling. But cricket, in theory, is thriving, with Yorkshire winning the County Championship in 2014 and 2015. Yet Joe Root, the batsman and poster boy for this renaissance, plays far more games for his country than for his county and was rested from Yorkshire’s 2016 title decider against Middlesex.

“Root’s almost not a Yorkshire player nowadays,” said Stuart Rayner, whose book The War of the White Roses chronicles the club’s fortunes between 1968 and 1986. As a fan back then, I frequently watched Geoffrey Boycott and other local stars at Headingley. My favourite was the England bowler Chris Old, a gritty, defiant, unsung anti-hero in the Billy Casper mould.

When Old made his debut, 13 of the 17-strong Yorkshire squad were registered as working-class professionals. Half a century later, three of the five Yorkshiremen selec­ted for the last Ashes series – Root, Jonny Bairstow and Gary Ballance – were privately educated. “The game of cricket now is played in public schools,” Old told me. “Top players are getting huge amounts of money, but the grass-roots game doesn’t seem to have benefited in any way.”

“In ten years’ time you won’t get a Joe Root,” Rayner said. “If you haven’t seen these top Yorkshire cricketers playing in your backyard and you haven’t got Sky, it will be difficult to get the whole cricket bug. So where is the next generation of Roots going to come from?” Or the next generation of Jessica Ennis-Hills? Three years ago, the Sheffield stadium where she trained and first discovered athletics was closed after cuts to local services.

This article first appeared in the 19 January 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The Trump era