Ema Cibotti at home (courtesy Ema Cibotti)
Defeat in the 1982 Falklands/Malvinas war might have precipitated the demise of Argentina’s military dictatorship, struggling to contain economic pressures and social discontent at home. But the reestablishment of democracy did little to alleviate the animosity that the English had come to symbolise in the national consciousness, an animosity that is still discernible today.
‘Queridos enemigos’ (Dear Enemies), the second book by historian Ema Cibotti, sets out to dissect the myths that have accrued around British influence and intervention in the construction of modern day Argentina. By reviewing the widespread chronicle of British usurpation and imperialist domination, it contextualises the tempestuous, vacillating Anglo-Argentine relationship over more than two centuries.
In clearly demarcated chronological sections and limpid, accessible prose, ‘Queridos enemigos’ provides a well-researched, insightful study into the anglophobic – and, periodically, anglophilic – sentiments that have dominated Argentine political and ideological positions. Revisiting successive periods in which anti-British sentiment has surfaced, Cibotti reveals how integral that bilateral relationship has been in the formation of nationalist identity.
Interleaving historical facts with personal accounts and newspaper excerpts, Cibotti sets out to deconstruct and subvert dominant narratives and facile interpretations, engrained in cultural tradition. While suggestive, ‘Queridos enemigos’ proffers an intelligently weighed thesis that reframes critical moments in the bilateral relationship, prompting the reader to revisit those crucial events.
“For me, the most interesting things is the reflections of the men from the era,” she tells me in her Ottoman-style Palermo abode. “And the intelligent approach is, accordingly, to accept the indisputable role the British have had in our success [and failures], and to analyse those documents, taking their personal motives and perspectives into account.”
“If the British were always our enemies, why did true patriots like Mariano Moreno and Manuel Belgrano cultivate strong ties with them?”
Retiro Clock tower with the eternal flame of the Malvinas' War Veterans Memorial. (Photo: Beatrice Murch)
Cibotti’s method differs radically from the tacitly shared cultural hegemony that is reinforced on a daily basis via heavily-biased classroom textbooks and the mass media. Taking as its the premise that the nationalism insistently propagated by successive Argentine administrations is territorial in its outlook and agenda, ‘Queridos enemigos’ postulates the ‘Malvinas cause’ as a retrospective tale of recovered origins.
Cibotti is empirical in her approach: historical events must be sifted, weighed and judged accordingly, with the aim of rendering mythologised accounts more ambiguous. But if the diplomatic issue at hand is ever to be resolved, she argues, it must be considered in the light of current political policy rather than as an ongoing historic cause.
“Historically, a consensual account is not viable…We’ve got to rub our eyes, wash our hands and start talking about politics if we are to bring about a sustainable future for the islands.”
From the failed British invasions of 1806-7, ‘Queridos enemigos’ charts the history of the turbulent Anglo-Argentine relationship, examining the sources of alleged enmity. But rarely do such episodes yield more than mild sentiments of animosity. More commonly, an “open and easy sociability” is observed between British and Argentine counterparts.
Charting the role of the British in challenging the colonial Spanish monopoly and in facilitating Argentina’s bid for independence, Cibotti highlights the weak links in distorted accounts of the British as imperialist aggressors. The much-peddled myth of British piratical greed, plundering the country of its wealth and grandeur, is accordingly placed within the larger framework of early capitalist economic expansion and free trade.
Territorial claims for the right to sovereignty of the Falklands/Malvinas were, Cibotti concedes, put forward by successive administrations in the wake of the British invasion of 1833. But, she argues, they were considered solely within the parameters of diplomatic relations, and never entered public discourse.
According to Cibotti, it was not until the 1930s that the Falklands/Malvinas cause became visible, following the publication of ‘Argentina and British Imperialism: the links in the chain 1806-1833’ by Rodolfo and Julio Irazusta. The polemical work was, she says, the first study to analyse the bilateral relationship from an imperialist standpoint, forging a narrative that has endured ever since.
The book became one of the pillars of the nascent movement of historical revisionism, and did not go unnoticed by the national authorities. “But why”, Cibotti asks, “was it written in 1934, and not before?”
Rodolfo and Julio Irazusta's book ‘Argentina and British Imperialism: The links in the chain 1806-1833'
“The Irazusta brothers came from an oligarchic, elite stock, and the circumstances that led to the publication of their book were directly related to the effect of Britain’s decision to restrict imports,” following the economic crisis of 1929. “Once you consider the episode as a reactionary personal tale of loss of economic gain,” Cibotti argues, “you see it in quite another light.”
The Irazustas might have set out a convincing polemic on the Falklands/Malvinas debate but anglophobia did not rear its head immediately. “A few decades of stupor” ensued before the Malvinas cause resurfaced in the 1960s.
The issue was swiftly taken up by Argentine intellectuals, against the backdrop of the Cold War and the various decolonialising phases that were underway across the globe. But it was on the football pitch, Cibotti argues, that anglophilia found both its cause and its outlet, following two successive defeats to the English at the 1962 and 1966 World Cup.
According to Cibotti, it was this brand of nationalism, installed in the 1960s, that provided the justification for the 1982 war. At the time, the belligerent agenda served as a convenient distraction from both the immediate context of social discontent and from the underlying, darker issue of state terrorism.
“What the military propounded was a very warped vision of nationalism, where what counts is territory, and not the population,” says Cibotti. “It was a way of ensuring that we were ‘all on one side’… [but] this nationalism presupposes that the country works better as a unity.”
The great paradox, of course, so lucidly outlined in Vicente Palermo’s ‘Sal en las Heridas’ (2007), is that “essentialist and unifying images” go against the cultural grain of Argentine society which is intrinsically “complex, plural and heterogenous in its foundations”.
Cibotti is categorical: “the Malvinas conflict was never proportional, nor should have resulted in, armed conflict”, as was upheld in 1982. “But it was a product of a certain historical moment that would never have occurred in a democratic context.
“In the last ten years there’s been a critical shift in perception. People are finally starting to realise that the claim for territorial sovereignty has no direct impact on their lives…And, in an era of communications, ideological positions simply hold less weight.
“Still, the Kirchner government has taken up the issue as a subject to distract from, and resolve, internal issues, like the state of the economy.”
For Cibotti, rather than resuming the debate as a territorial conflict, or a legal state issue, the search for a consensual solution must be political.
“What’s lacking in Argentina is recognition that things have changed. We’re now a democratic society, and the islands have undergone substantial reforms, in terms of employment and education.”
“The Malvinas now needs to be considered as a regional issue within the greater framework of South America,” Cibotti concludes, “not merely as a bilateral dispute.”
