Between A Rock And Another Rock

The book of diversionary international political tactics, author L. Galtieri, with contributions by M. Thatcher and C. Fernández de Kirchner, 2013 revision by M. Rajoy and J. M. García-Margallo, available now. What the critics have to say:

"While stopping short of the use of war as proposed in the original, Rajoy and García-Margallo present a coherent argument for raising nationalist support for a faltering government with a nationalist agenda and for minimising the scrutiny of one of the author's previously suspicious financial affairs by targeting a disputed territory and going beyond historical claims by highlighting potential tax and financial irregularities that centre on this disputed territory. One of the co-authors, now a minister for foreign affairs, displays his deep knowledge of fiscal matters in such disputes. He attended the international tax programme at Harvard Law School and was a former head of studies at the Spanish Hacienda ministry and so has all the credentials required for understanding issues facing his fellow author and those pertaining to allegedly piratical behaviours in said disputed territory."

"A miserable exercise in sabre-rattling by a corrupt and incompetent regime."

"A flawed analysis which takes no account of Moroccan claims on the cities of Ceuta and Melilla or of either further Moroccan claims on the Peñón de Vélez de la Gomera, which is connected to the Moroccan coast by an isthmus that is a mere 85 metres long, or of Portuguese claims on the territory of Olivenza between Portugal and Spain in the region of Extremadura which was ceded to Spain under the Treaty of Badajoz in 1801."

Gibraltar is a nonsense. Look where it is. What on earth is it doing being a British overseas territory? It makes no sense but it makes perfect sense, strategically and militarily, and history decrees that it is British. And, where British national pride is concerned, it is a small something to show for the old empire: some half-decent real estate.

Empires have a lot to do with Gibraltar. Neither Britain nor Spain has ever come to terms with the fact that each of them lost an empire, but what gets up the noses of the Spanish is that they lost theirs that much earlier and were forced to endure British dominance while they were slipping further and further into decline before suffering the final great humiliations of 1898 and the losses to the new Anglo-Saxon empire of the United States.

Gibraltar is the feeble battleground of old empires. Britain and Spain are trapped for an eternity within the straitjackets of the rock's straits, their history and the ghosts of imperial days. There Gibraltar is, stuck onto Europe's backside, an irritant boil that neither can lance but one upon which the rest of Europe looks and wonders why some soothing salve cannot be applied so that everyone can get on and pay attention to rather more important matters. Indeed, Europe may well wonder what in God's name the Spanish are doing, messing around with Gibraltar in an apparent act of ingratitude.

Franco chose to close the border with Gibraltar in 1969, having been asserting Spanish sovereignty for years, a good old nationalist ploy not that far removed from the current actions led by Spain's José Manuel García-Margallo. History has a habit of repeating itself, as does ingratitude. Franco's Spain chose to stick two fingers up to British (and European) investment and tourism. Rajoy's Spain is doing something not dissimilar.

But then this is not a Spanish view. It is revealing to read the thousands of comments posted on the internet under Spanish newspaper articles about García-Margallo's get-tough stance. To take but one - "the English are a cancer". This appeared under an article on the "El País" website and so was not one from a newspaper of the rabid and nationalist right. Gibraltar reveals just how much xenophobia exists in Spain and how much of it is directed at the British. 

After 300 years, Spain still wants Gibraltar back. It cannot let go, just as the British cannot let go. But Spain also can't let go of Ceuta and Melilla. Why should it, when people there are happy to remain Spanish? Melilla was conquered, Ceuta was ceded to Spain by Portugal. Spain maintains that both have always been Spanish, which is a version of history to suit the situations. The other rock, the Peñón de Vélez, became Spanish when Portugal was once absorbed into the Spanish crown. And what about Olivenza, because this territory was part of Portugal. It is also a territory about which very little mention is made in Spain. Why would that be, do you suppose?


Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.

Olé, Olé, Olé: The Ryder Cup is British

The Ryder Cup is arguably the greatest team sports event in the world. Even the non-sports fan can be enthralled by the sheer tension that it creates. But the Ryder Cup is also one of the strangest team sports events. It throws together sportsmen who normally engage in the most individual of sports, and in the case of the European team, golfers who are not required to have a common national background but who represent one of the major power blocks in the sport - the European golf tour.

International sport, as in sporting events between different nations, supplies its own inherent tension simply because of a nationalistic ingredient. Combining nations should, in theory, lessen both the nationalism and therefore the tension, but when it comes to the Ryder Cup it doesn't. Nationalism is cast aside in favour of supra-nationalism, that of Europe, and for once an Englishman can be proud of a German.

For all this, just how European is the Ryder Cup? The roots of the competition - Britain versus the US then briefly (and officially) Britain and Ireland versus the US before the Europeans got involved - are still very evident. Britain supplied seven of the 2012 team but more importantly, it is Britain where the real interest in the competition lies.

The temporary acquisition of supra-nationalism by the British sports fan is really little more than British nationalism with a twist. Within all the feedback and comments that surfaced on the social media during Europe's astonishing comeback at Medinah were constant references along the lines of the icing on the cake for a great summer of British sport. Not European, British. The Ryder Cup was placed alongside the Olympics, Wiggins and Murray.

The supporters who had travelled to the US adopted the pan-European chant of "olé, olé, olé". While this might have been taken as a nod in the direction of the team captain, José María Olazabal, it was more a case of the football terraces having supplied a ready-made song for all to join in and to understand. "Olé, olé, olé" is a sort of universal sports-speak, one that has been adopted by cricket's Barmy Army and by others with no obvious Spanish origins. The singing of "You'll Never Walk Alone" has also become more global, but its roots are very obvious; it was one of the songs of the European supporters.

It is when one considers media coverage that the picture of where the real interest lies is revealed. The Spanish clearly had an interest in this year's competition in that the captain was Spanish, Garcia was on the team and the inspiration was the memory of Severiano Ballesteros. The event itself though was almost secondary to Seve.

Of four news websites on Monday morning, one carried no mention at all of the Ryder Cup, another managed to put a report in its football section, one did at least place the victory on its home page (with suitable reference to Seve) and another carried a report under "more sports". The national obsession with Barcelona and Real Madrid was of greater significance. One other website, that for the sports newspaper "Marca", did do the event justice, but then it is a sports publication. Compare this coverage with, for example, "The Guardian". I typed Ryder Cup into the paper's search engine and 366 articles came up. I gave up after ten pages, but they were all related to the 2012 event.

For the Spanish, much though there was meaning because of Seve's memory, there wasn't anything like the level of interest as in Britain. And even the Seve memory angle was as important to the non-Spaniard as it was to the Spaniard; more so perhaps. Ballesteros was never lauded as much in his own country as he was outside it, especially in Britain. Olé, olé, olé; it was the emergence of Seve (and others) that was to prove crucial to the success that Europe now has at the Ryder Cup. Without it, there might never have been the change to a European team rather than a British (and Irish) team which was ritually humiliated every two years by superior American golfers.

Of non-British players on the European team, Colsaerts is a virtual unknown in his own country, Kaymer is not big news in Germany. In Britain, though, McIlroy is a superstar. Westwood, Donald and McDowell may not be but they are still well-known. There is a sense in which the non-British players become honorary Brits for three days of golf. To many British sports fans, they do, as Medinah capped a great year for British sport. Apparently.

N.B. In order to pre-empt the pedants, I do of course recognise that McIlroy and McDowell being British is a question of definition.


Any comments to andrew@thealcudiaguide.com please.

I’m Not Looking For A New England

It is years since I actually lived in Britain, well England to be exact. Go back for a few days, and the changes as well as the frozen time are evident as are contrasts with Spain and Mallorca. One forms an impression on arrival. Land at Palma and you would be forgiven for thinking that the paranoia about air travel had failed to inveigle itself into the Spanish psyche. Land at Luton and it is different. Amongst the signs and notices for no photography (who would actually want to take a photo of a queue for passport control?) and for inconvenience (couched with a somewhat menacing apology) is a large one for something called “UK Border”. It is hard to determine whether this is intended as some form of branding exercise or whether it is a statement of the bleeding and absurdly obvious; obvious as, yes, it is a point of entry, but absurd as one tends not to think of Luton being at the border. Pass through baggage reclaim to the concourse and there one is struck by more signs. “It is against the law …” There is nothing sadder than smokers outside the revolving doors of Luton Airport in a biting December wind.

Paranoia and the force of law. Years ago, before 9/11, I had observed this dual tendency in Britain; it had come in on the back of those glorious sunny first two days of May 1997. It was not what I, or anyone I would imagine, could have foreseen; at least not the strength with which it has transformed the country. Welcome to England. Welcome to Britain.

Take the culture of Britain today, and it is condensed into all forms of digital transmission. In some ways, it has stood still or gone back to the future. Take That and The Spice Girls never really went away, Gary just got fatter and Posh became Über-Chav. Phil Mitchell’s face got puffier and now offends more in high-definition. Of the new, a reformed drug addict with an artless motormouth and big hair has become an icon for God knows what. Mixed up with outrage at the failings of the rail network (so what’s new?) are controversies regarding some never-will-be winner of “X Factor” and the use of “faggot” and “slut” in a popular Christmas song of many years ago. Welcome to England. Welcome to Britain.

And yet, amongst all these things, there are the old certainties of Britain and some new ones: the enduring beauty of its countryside even on grey, damp days, the more varied but also geometric and ordered landscape; the politeness and courtesy despite condemnations to the contrary; the strength of much comedy, a Briton’s birthright, notwithstanding the Mary Whitehousian disgust at Catherine Tate’s f-words; the outstanding quality and range of shops and supermarkets, their free market of produce and creativity. All these things contrast with Mallorca, and they contrast very favourably.

Welcome to England. Welcome to Britain. Bad and good.


QUIZ
Today’s title – there’s an oblique reference to the singer in today’s piece.

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