Britain’s great lyrical poet William Wordsworth once wrote of “old unhappy, far-off things and battles long ago.” Although it is unclear whether the Falkland Islands were even part of the British Empire at the time those lines were published in 1807, they provide a perfect description of the 1982 war between Britain and Argentina, as viewed from its fortieth anniversary this month.

Even for those who follow Latin American security affairs, the Falklands Islands War (or La Guerra de las Islas Malvinas to use Argentina’s preferred terminology) has drifted into the further recesses of memory, along with other almost forgotten episodes such as the brief border conflict between Peru and Ecuador of 1981, the “Soccer War” between Honduras and El Salvador of 1969, or the Chaco War between Bolivia and Paraguay from 1932 to 1935. Other bigger wars around the globe have long since obscured the struggle over the islands. And even within Latin America, the security agenda has largely revolved around insurgencies, drug trafficking, immigration, and internal unrest.

A Short but Ugly War

Nonetheless, the Falklands War, though brief at ten weeks, was nasty: 649 Argentine military personnel, 255 British military personnel, and three islanders were killed. In fact, it was a closer contest than one might have thought given the disparity in power between Britain and Argentina. The Argentines had the advantage of being far closer to the islands, which at the time of their assault were largely undefended.

And, while in retrospect the decision of the generals who ran Argentina to go to war seems hopelessly irresponsible, as there was no compelling security or economic interest in seizing the islands, they had some reason to believe they could win. Britain had spent the last thirty-five years divesting itself of its globe-spanning empire and it seemed implausible that it would go to war to preserve one of its few remaining possessions, especially one so remote with no strategic value and a population of only 1,800 people.

There had, in fact, been sporadic negotiations over the future of the islands; however, the inhabitants continually made it clear that they sought to retain the status quo, as did the islands’ principal landowner, the Falkland Islands Company, a sheep-raising concern. These views found support in the British Parliament, while the prospect of an Argentine invasion seemed remote.

Argentina’s claim, which is nothing less than an article of faith among its people, is based on the argument that there was a Spanish and then Argentine presence on the island which had only been interrupted when its settlers were forcibly ousted by the British in the early nineteenth century. The British, of course, have their counterarguments, asserting that this presence was at best sporadic, and that what counts most are the inhabitants’ views—in keeping with the right of self-determination enshrined in the United Nations Charter.

That Britain under Margaret Thatcher would view the invasion as an unacceptable attack on its sovereign territory and a challenge to its credibility (at a time when the Cold War was heating up anew) did not figure in Argentine calculations. Britain was hard-pressed to find the necessary land, air, and sea assets and move them 8,000 miles with no available staging area other than Ascension Island, another obscure British South Atlantic possession 3,800 miles away. And Britain had been in a process of shrinking its military through previous decades.

Still, though stretched, Britain found the necessary aircraft, ships, and soldiers to send a task force south, while trusting that, as the motto of its Special Air Service states, “who dares wins.” And it benefited from the higher overall level of training and professionalism from top to bottom. Nonetheless, it came closer to defeat than was comfortable. The star performers on the Argentine side were its pilots, who sank several British ships. Had they sunk a few more, the British task force may well have had no choice except to return home. (After a British submarine torpedoed an Argentine cruiser, the Argentine Navy almost completely withdrew from the conflict, while Argentine soldiers, many poorly trained draftees who were intended for relatively easy occupation duty, suffered from inadequate logistical support as they waited for the British to come.)

As the day of reckoning grew closer, the United States sought to avoid a war between Britain, its closest partner, and Argentina, which had been an anti-communist ally in the Reagan administration’s embryonic efforts to oppose the Sandinista regime in Nicaragua, providing training to the fighters who would eventually be known as the “contras.” Secretary of State Alexander Haig tried his own version of the shuttle diplomacy in which Henry Kissinger had engaged to good effect in the Middle East. He flew between London and Buenos Aires trying to bridge the differences.

But the generals in Buenos Aires were uninterested in anything short of a recognition of Argentine sovereignty, while Britain demanded a return to the status quo ante. Negotiations broke down, leading to the successful British recapture of the islands. The United States ultimately moved away from its effort to serve as a neutral mediator and supported Britain diplomatically and materially.

In fact, even had the Argentine government been interested in extricating itself from its ill-advised venture, this may well have been impossible as the initial conquest had unleashed a wave of nationalistic fervor which temporarily unified the fractured country—to the point where even the far Left Montoneros guerrilla group supported the invasion. The Argentines’ emotional attachment to these islands, despite their having had no presence there for almost 150 years, then and now is a powerful reality, as has been shown during this anniversary.

Argentina Can’t Forget

While the war always remains fresh in Argentine memory, the arrival of a relatively major anniversary has provoked a veritable orgy of attention to the issue among its media and politicians. Aging soldiers, diplomats, and political figures have been interviewed; the longstanding historical claims have once again been rehearsed. Reporters have been sent to the islands to interview the inhabitants. (They are said to be cold and suspicious at first, but eventually, their small-town courtesy leads them to be willing to talk.)

But generally, the emphasis is on the heroism of Argentine soldiers, sailors, and airmen, with tales of their deeds recounted in newspapers and on television. These are sometimes mixed with stories of the hardships they faced and the poor support they received in their efforts to adjust to life after the war. And while the war is generally admitted to have been an ill-conceived disaster, the fact that it completely discredited the military government

and led to the country’s return to democratic governance (which for all its problems, it has been able to maintain since then) has gotten relatively little emphasis. Clearly, stories of brave fighters, even if the outcome was tragic for them, make for more soothing reading.

The invasion’s anniversary has gotten far less coverage in Britain. Doubtless, its eventual victory will be recounted at greater length in June when its anniversary will occur. But also, as the winner, Britain is able to leave the war behind in a way that Argentina cannot. Thatcher now seems a relatively distant figure, although she remains totemic as an object of veneration on the Right and of distaste on the Left. And Britain has fought in other wars in Iraq and Afghanistan that have pushed the 1982 war further into the back pages of history.

Nonetheless, Britain continues to hold on not only to the islands but several other scraps of the old empire, almost in spite of itself. (They are no longer called colonies but are considered to be “overseas territories” which freely chose to remain British just as other former colonies chose independence.) There is no appetite to negotiate the islands’ sovereignty with Argentina over the objections of the Islanders, few though they may be.

As for the other territories, the status of Gibraltar, with ten times the population of the islands and a population equally committed to the status quo despite longstanding Spanish claims is not likely to change, despite some new complexities arising from Brexit. Diego Garcia in the Indian Ocean is valued as a base from which power (principally American) can be projected into that part of the world. This is unlikely to change, despite an advisory opinion of the International Court of Justice asserting that this island is part of Mauritius. Bermuda, the Cayman Islands, the British Virgin Islands, and a few other small Caribbean islands seem in no rush to seek independence either.

The great exception, of course, was Hong Kong, which Britain turned over to China despite the inhabitants’ wishes in 1997. But, in fact, a large portion of its land was only leased from China (the so-called “New Territories”) with the lease having been due to expire in 1999, and China was emerging as a political and economic superpower—precisely the opposite of Argentina’s trajectory.

As Things Stand Now

And what of the Islanders themselves? The trauma of war remains close to the surface even after forty years, but they have done quite well overall. They have claimed large areas of adjacent seas as their exclusive economic zone and make a nice living off of fishing licenses (mainly Spanish ships serving southern Europe’s appetite for squid). The economic boom has led the population to increase to 3,600. Moreover, as Argentina has suffered from long-term economic and social decay, the idea of some kind of handover has only become less plausible.

In Argentina itself, the issue of its claim still surfaces periodically. During the 1990s, President Carlos Menem tried a “charm offensive,” allowing for direct commercial flights between the islands and the Argentine mainland, offering to remove the landmines which had been sown during the occupation (the Islanders ultimately did their own demining), and somewhat ludicrously sending stuffed animals to island children. Perhaps, if it had been a multi-decade project, this effort might have had some impact, but Menem’s successors reverted to a harder line, pressing Argentina’s case in international fora, and seeking to isolate Britain politically.

But while favorable rhetoric has been expressed by Argentina’s neighbors in the name of regional solidarity and anti-imperialism, little concrete support can be found. Uruguay allows vessels which fish in the islands’ waters to use its ports to refuel and refit (although they cannot come if they fly the Falklands flag). Chile allows air service between the islands and Punta Arenas in its far south. (Argentina insists that these flights should include a stop-over on its territory.) Brazil has allowed an increasing number of British military flights to and from the islands to stop at Its airports.

A particular Argentine grievance has been Britain’s alleged “militarization” of the islands, where it maintains a garrison of 1,200 soldiers and a squadron of Eurofighter Typhoon fighter aircraft, and stations a naval patrol vessel in the nearby waters. Particularly galling is the fact that Britain holds the United States to a commitment not to sell weaponry to Argentina without consulting it, in effect giving Britain a veto. Thus, while Chile’s Air Force has U.S.-made F-16 fighter jets and Brazil is buying the Gripen fighter from Sweden, Argentina is almost bereft of front-line fighters.

Potential sales of Gripens and Israeli Kfirs (both of which have U.S. components) and of used Mirages from the Spanish Air Force (which have British components) have been blocked. There had been some reports that Argentina would purchase the Chinese-Pakistani JF-17 Thunder, but this appears to be on the back burner. Whether Argentina, sunk in a deep economic crisis, can afford to buy new advanced fighters, is, of course, another question.

Lessons Learned (or Not)

This half-forgotten war, however, does leave some lessons, not only for Argentina and Britain, but for all countries who want to play the game of power politics. The obvious ones would include:

First, a country needs to see where its national interest really lies. In fact, Argentina had little to gain from taking over the islands. There is no reason to believe that any of the profound problems which it faces forty years on would have been resolved had it won. A mixture of wrongly perceived self-interest on the part of the increasingly unpopular military junta and coarse nationalism ended up in disaster. The generals were forced from power, and ultimately had to answer for the many human rights violations which they committed during their tenure. From their cells, they must have asked themselves: “What were we thinking?”

Of course, this lesson in some ways also applies to Britain. Had it found a way to negotiate sovereignty away before the Argentine invasion made it a different matter altogether, it would have spared itself the loss of life and treasure as well as a continuing military commitment in a part of the world of no strategic interest to it.

Second, the enemy gets a vote. Victory is rarely certain, even if it looks like your opponent’s chances are poor. As the Argentine generals learned about Thatcher and Russia is learning about Volodymyr Zelenskyy, sometimes your opponent is willing to make a fight of it, and, as Clausewitz said, “war is the domain of uncertainty.”

Third, either a state can project power, or it cannot. The Argentines could make an essentially unopposed landing on islands which were 300 miles away from its mainland but lacked the ability to sustain it. Britain could send forces to the South Atlantic, albeit at the limit of its capabilities. One of the two aircraft carriers which it deployed had been due to be sold to Australia, and had this already happened, British capabilities would have been severely compromised. It is worth noting that Britain has recently commissioned two new carriers.

Fourth, sometimes a country just has to move on. The United States, once completely obsessed with its failure in Vietnam, got over it, and for good or bad ceased to see it as a reference point in its decisionmaking on national security issues. Afghanistan is rapidly disappearing in the rear-view window a few months after the final withdrawal. One could argue that some memory might have been useful before some of the more recent American engagements, but overall, it may be best sometimes to let the past go, however painful it may be to do so.

Ten years from now we will see the fiftieth anniversary of the Falklands War. There is little reason to expect any great changes in the status of the islands. Until Argentina resolves its deep-seated internal problems, it is unlikely to be even minimally attractive as an alternative to the British connection, while a military effort by its shrunken, under-resourced military is highly implausible. As to whether the lessons of this small war in an obscure corner of the globe will have been learned by other countries, to judge from more recent military interventions which ended poorly, we should not count on it.

Richard M. Sanders is a Global Fellow of the Woodrow Wilson International Center for Scholars. Formerly a member of the Senior Foreign Service of the U.S. Department of State. His assignments included service as Argentina desk officer from 1997 to 1999, as Director of the Office of Brazilian and Southern Cone Affairs from 2010 to 2013, and as Foreign Policy Advisor to the Chief of Staff, U.S. Army from 2016 to 2018.

Image: Wikipedia.