Stamp Collection

History of the Falkland / Malvinas Islands: 1833

2013-04-11T12:30:00.000-03:00

April 2 last year marked the 30^th anniversary of an Argentine seizure of the British-controlled Falkland/Malvinas islands, an event that precipitated a short military conflict between Argentina and the United Kingdom. On that occasion I started a series about the dispute for sovereignty of these islands, with a post that narrated acts from the 19^th century on which Argentina grounds its claim, including a settlement founded in 1826 and lead by Louis Vernet. It explained how an incident with an American warship in 1831 caused the reduction of this settlement and the establishment of conditions that would encourage a British takeover in 1833, which will be the subject of this second post.

Just like the previous post in the series, I will discuss a lot of history with stamps serving only illustrative purposes. Most of the stamps shown are from commemorative series from 1933 (Scott 65–76), 1983 (Scott 360–370), and 2008, which celebrate the centennial, sesquicentennial and 175th anniversary of this foundational date for the British colony at the islands. The centennial series is particularly sought for, costing several thousand dollars according to the Scott catalogue. Two covers are shown with some 1983 specimens. One of them offers details about the series, you will find it among the (long) footnotes. Besides those series there are a few Argentine stamps borrowed from the previous post. For more about Falklands philately, including detailed booklets in pdf format, visit Stefan Heijtz collection.

Eviction

In 1832, while at Buenos Aires, Vernet resigned to his position as head authority at the islands, to concentrate on demanding reparations from the destruction done by the USS Lexington on the property he had financed. The Argentine government appointed Mestivier [1] as his replacement, sending him to Port Louis (their settlement at the islands) on board of the Sarandí, a clipper captained by José María Pinedo. They sailed to restore order and rebuild the colony with a small army of deported criminals and emancipated slaves, curriculums that were not uncommon for soldiers and sailors those days, particularly those who manned frontier garrisons. A number of them traveled with their wives and children.

Pinedo’s mission was to patrol the coasts while Mestivier lead the reconstruction. But a few weeks after their arrival, with the Sarandí at sea on its patrolling duties, the new governor was murdered by some of his soldiers. At his return to Port Louis, Pinedo assumed command of the settlement and was successfully suffocating the mutiny when more trouble arrived. Lawrence Freedman, Official (UK) Historian for the Falklands Campaign, explains: [2]

In London, the Admiralty decided to take advantage of the dislocation created by the Lexington incident by sending two warships, HMS Clio and HMS Tyne, to reassert British sovereignty on the Falkland Islands. [... O]n 2 January 1833, the Clio, under the command of Captain J.J.Onslow, appeared in Port Louis. Onslow told Don José Maria Pinedo aboard the Sarandi that the Islands belonged to no one, and that the British flag would replace that of Argentina the next day, 3 January 1833. Pinedo protested but in the face of superior force he did not resist. To Britain this demonstrated that the transfer of control was a matter of persuasion, for no shots were fired. Argentina points to the coercive nature of the persuasion.

Gustafson emphasizes that last point when he writes: [3]

The superior force of the Clio and Tyne convinced Pinedo that he should not resist. The fact that shots were not fired does not mean force was not used. The most successful use of force is to show it, not actually to fight.

The settlement had no cannon or fortification, therefore defense depended on the Sarandí. This Baltimore clipper was dear to the Argentineans after its performance in war against Brazil, occasionally under the command of the father of the Argentine navy, an Irishman called William Brown. But brig-sloop HMS Clio was a larger vessel that, unlike the Sarandí, had been designed especially for war. The Argentine schooner carried no more than one 16-pounder, two 12-pounders, two 8-pounders and four lighter cannons, while the Clio was equipped with sixteen short 32-pounders plus two bow-guns, a lethal armament for close-range fight. For long-range combat, the Clio was to be assisted by frigate HMS Tyne, a larger ship featuring twenty-eight long 9-pounders. However, the Tyne was not yet near Port Louis when Onslow requested the removal of the Argentine flag. We will come back to the Tyne later in this post.

Pinedo may have considered staging a long-range attack on the Clio, by sailing out of the range of its carronade and firing the Sarandí’s light cannon while maneuvering to keep the distance. Though it was probably his only chance to reject the invasion [4], the attack would have been difficult to sustain long enough to disable the Clio, because it depended on wind and current, plus there was kelp to avoid and maneuvers were confined to the limited space of the tip of Berkeley Sound. A mistake or unlucky breeze and the Clio’s short-range power would crush the Sarandí. Pinedo later reported that the crew showed signs of low morale while setting up the ammo, as they feared for their lives. Besides, it was no minor thing to open fire against a friendly nation and the world’s strongest navy. So the Argentine captain chose not to resist but to protest firmly, take the news home as soon as possible and let Buenos Aires decide between diplomatic action or a better military response.

Flashback to the 18th-century dispute

The UK claimed that they were taking possession in virtue of rights awarded by discovery and colonization during their settlement at Port Egmont from 1766 to 1774. [5] But who discovered the islands is controverted. What Britain can claim with a certain degree of confidence is the first recorded landing, by Captain John Strong in 1690. In any case, according to the law of nations, discovery and first landing did not attribute sovereignty unless they were followed by exercising ownership via effective occupation, meaning to inhabit, use and improve the territory in a fairly-permanent settlement, practicing acts of government. [6] Discovery or first landing offered no more than an inchoate right, that expired unless perfected by means of an effective occupation within a short-enough span of time. It is argued that ‘short-enough’ meant up to 25 years. [7] But the UK did not settle on the islands after Strong’s landing. A permanent settlement was founded no earlier than 74 years later, in 1764, at Port Louis in Berkeley Sound. And it was built by the French.

Spain protested about this French settlement because it considered it had title to the islands due to papal prerogatives and prior treaties. France ceded the village to the Iberians in 1767, receiving a monetary compensation for the buildings. That settlement, renamed by the Spaniards as Puerto de la Soledad, coexisted with one the British had founded in 1766 at Port Egmont, at a smaller island on the other side of the archipelago. Spain pressured the UK for them to abandon their settlement too, as it considered it had ownership of the whole archipelago. The Spaniards went as far as to evict the Britons by force, an offense that almost precipitated war. But rey Carlos III was more interested in embellishing Madrid than in waging war against the most powerful nation of his time. He mended the offense by agreeing to restitute the port to the British crown in 1771. Normally, a renouncement to sovereign rights may be inferred from such a concession but, this time, the Spanish crown reserved those rights, as the document stipulated that the restitution of the settlement ‘cannot nor ought in any way to affect the question of the prior right of sovereignty over the Malouine Islands, otherwise called Falkland's Islands.’

From 1829 to our days, Britain states that the effect of the restitution of Port Egmont in 1771 offered ‘additional sanction’ to ‘the sovereign rights of Great Britain over the Falkland Islands’, failing to mention that only that establishment was returned, with the Iberians reserving rights, and Britain expressing satisfaction even though the Spaniards claimed the archipelago and were settled indisputably at Puerto Soledad. [8]

In 1774, Britain evacuated Port Egmont for unclear reasons. It is argued that it was done to focus resources on the war of independence in North America. FitzRoy points out similar economic-driven motives although he does not associate them to the revolutionary war: [9]

In 1774, finding the establishment at the Falklands expensive, and almost useless [footnote: The fact was, it was injudiciously situated, and therefore seldom visited, except by a few fishermen], England quietly withdrew it; but the marks and signals of possession and property were left upon the islands, and when the governor departed, the British flag remained flying, and various formalities were observed, intended to indicate the right of possession, as well as to show that the occupation of them might be resumed.

However, Vernet makes the point that, given that the islands could be made self-sustaining and were strategically located, plus considering the strength of the British Navy among other factors, it is unconvincing to argue that the UK left because it was supposedly expensive or uninteresting to remain there, suggesting that the real reason must have been that the British government acknowledged the Spanish rights, though they were not explicit about this renouncement because there would be, in regards to local politics, a better moment for that. [10]

This opinions concurs with a provocative article written by British polemicist Junius, who suggested that there might have been a secret agreement in the 1771 understanding binding the UK to evacuate, as it had been rumored at the House of Commons. [11] It is worth noting that these speculations predated the evacuation. There are other hints pointing towards the existence of a secret clause. After all, it can be presumed that Britain’s interests at the time were to prevent a French possession of the islands and to save face after being evicted by the Spaniards. With a secret pledge to evacuate, these objectives would be accomplished just the same. It can even be argued that Britain would morally stand higher after such an arrangement, as she would be seen “throwing away” something she had gotten back effortlessly out of sheer respect from her adversaries. But no concrete evidence of a secret clause has been found, thus it can play no more than an anecdotal role in the current sovereignty dispute.

In any case, what is most relevant from a legal standpoint is that Britain abandoned the islands and remained quiet about sovereignty there, despite Spanish and Argentine activity, until it protested to Vernet’s appointment in 1829. Abandonment in a legal context means lack of effective occupation, which, as said before, requires inhabiting the territory fairly constantly, using and improving the land and practicing acts of government through some kind of local authority. [12] Temporary landings did not repair the lack of effective occupation. Neither did plaques or flags such as those left at the abandoned Port Egmont. [13] Even if it was not its intention to acknowledge Spanish sovereignty when leaving in 1774, that 55-year absence with silence can be considered a tacit renouncement to any rights, doubtful or not, that Britain may have had at the time of the evacuation of Port Egmont. [14] Gustafson states: [15]

Most writers in international law, including Hugo Grotius and L. Oppenheim, argue that an uninterrupted span of fifty to a hundred years is required before title is prescripted. [...] Britain's absence of 1774-1833 was over fifty years. Britain's lack of protest, and recognition of Spain's and Argentina's claims, does imply its acquiescence in its loss of title during that period.

As he indicates, international law does not agree on a specific amount of years within that fifty to one hundred year range. Experts stress the relevance of elements specific to each case that may support the presumption of tacit consent. Grotius, one of the founders of international law, wrote: [16]

[I]n order that silence may be valid for the presumption of derelict [i.e., abandonment], two things are required; that it be the silence of a party knowing, and freely willing; for the inaction of a party which is in ignorance, has no effect; and when there is another cause known which influences the will, conjecture as to what it is ceases. To establish the assumption of these two conditions, other conjectures are of force: but for the most part, the effect of time, in both points, is great.

If there are cases where fifty years of acquiescence were considered to be tacit renouncement, it would be odd to argue that this case required a longer period, because such a claim should be based on a lack of information, a material impossibility to protest or attempt to occupy, or a reasonable fear to do either thing. [17] These factors were not present in this case. During some of those years Britain was even at war with Spain. It invaded Buenos Aires twice, yet completely disregarded the islands. [18]

Spanish Malvinas/Falklands

Following the British abandonment, the Spanish Empire was left with the burden of occupying the islands or otherwise risk losing them “because the court at London may then claim Malvinas to be something pro de derelicto habita that can be awarded to the first occupant according to the law of nations.”, as put by an officer of the vice-royalty who elaborated: [19]

The occupation of that territory is a crown expenditure, like others, with the aim of preventing possession by our enemies, who would attain a permanent base to establish themselves near the strait of Magellan, invade our establishments and easily mount Cape Horn. These are not reasons for the king to desire a formal population, nor to have one based precisely at Puerto de la Soledad, if it is more convenient to move it to Port Egmont, or de la Cruzada, or in His Majesty’s desire to do it by means of a small presidio, capable of resisting a few light ships that may arrive for fishing, though not an attack or formal expedition, so that in no treaty may England claim its rightful possession, and our abandonment; although for now there is no motive to believe that there are plans for an expedition to those places by the state or government of England.

Presidio currently means penitentiary, but its meaning in colonial times was different. This difference causes some misapprehensions such as saying that what Spain maintained at the islands and what Mestivier was to rebuild in 1833 were penal institutions. In the early 19^th century, a presidio was a frontier garrison or a similarly militarized small town, where convicted soldiers commonly paid service. [20] Spain used presidios to guard its frontier populations and roads from attack, as well as to protect the frontier territories from claims of legal abandonment.

While Britain acquiesced, Spain maintained a presidio at the islands. It was populated by some eighty men who rotated frequently with other unfortunate ones in the mainland. The buildings were sturdy. They included a government house, a church, storehouses and a fort, all made of stone. The crew of the presidio simply populated the islands as required by international law to constitute effective occupation, and patrolled the coasts to verify that landings by foreign fishermen were only temporary and legally ineffective. For this purpose they dismantled Port Egmont soon after the Britons departed, as they found that visitors were sporadically using its installations. When doing so, they removed the plaque, which was taken to Buenos Aires and presumably returned to British officers after the failed invasion of 1806.

In diplomatic correspondence when acting as Secretary of State, James Madison wrote in 1808: [21]

[T]he islands lost their importance in the eyes of the British government, were in a short time finally evacuated, and Port Egmont remains with every other part of them in the hands of Spain.

Tells the tale that the crew of the presidio made some money by contraband, purchasing textiles from British ships that stopped on their way to Cape Horn. Curiously, the colonial bureaucracy punished some convicted smugglers by banishing them to this place, which was perfectly suited for their practice. It is also rumored that the men of the presidio enjoyed visiting Patagonian Amerindians during logging excursions (there was no timber at the islands). Maybe life was not so bad after all... They knew how to hail the Amerindians so that they did not run away as they did, for example, from the English red ensign, which the natives were conditioned to avoid after experiencing scary cannon fire from ships carrying it. This had probably been caused not by English sailors insanely wasting ammo, but by Spaniards playing tricks to discourage contact between Amerindians and Englishmen.

Such was life at the islands until the men of the presidio, and their ship, were called back in 1811, following the May revolution of 1810. Until then, Spain acted as the owner of the whole archipelago. Contemporary cartography seems to concur with regards to its eastern half but are ambiguous in relation to the western, as maps prepared before 1833 identify East Falkland/Soledad using its Spanish or French name but sometimes label West Falkland/Gran Malvina with a British-given one. [22] This suits a possible interpretation that weights the effect of the restitution of Port Egmont— located at the small Saunders Island, near the large and nowadays loosely-populated West Falkland/Gran Malvina—more heavily than any Spanish claims or reservation of rights over that area, or Spanish subsequent control like when the port was dismantled without protest. Britain could have presented a case for the area of influence of Port Egmont by arguing that sovereignty there remained unaffected by French, Spanish and Argentine occupation of the eastern half of the archipelago, stating that this sovereignty had been tacitly recognized by Spain in the restitution of 1771. This case would have been doubtful but less so than claiming Port Louis.

19th-century Realpolitik

In 1829, with Buenos Aires having succeeded the Spanish vice-royalty and being established at Puerto Soledad (renamed to Port Louis), as was narrated in the previous post, London ended its 55 years of acquiescence and claimed sovereignty over the whole archipelago in response to Vernet's appointment as Civil and Military Commandant of the Islands and Adjacencies. The British argument is criticized on similar terms throughout literature. [23] In 1842, the prestigious Hunt's Merchant's Magazine published a study by prominent American historian Robert Greenhow, who elaborates: [24]

It will not be difficult to show that the most material of these assertions [...], on which indeed all the others depend, is entirely destitute of foundation. No evidence has yet been produced, that the claim of Great Britain to the sovereignty of the Falkland Islands was in any way asserted or maintained during discussions with Spain, in 1770 and 1771, or before or after that period. The British in 1770 demanded the restoration of Port Egmont, and in 1771 Port Egmont was restored by Spain; and the restitution of that single place was specially declared and admitted to be a sufficient reparation for all the injuries which Great Britain had suffered from Spain. Neither in the declaration, nor in the counter-declaration, nor in the order for the delivery of Port Egmont—the only documents as yet made public which can be regarded as authorities respecting the extent of the engagements concluded between the two nations in 1771—does any reference appear to any part of the islands except Port Egmont; and even with regard to that place, Spain was allowed to insert a formal reservation of her right of sovereignty, in the very act promising the restitution. Spain was never required to evacuate Soledad, nor was her right to that or any or every other spot in the Falkland Islands, except Port Egmont, questioned by Great Britain in any communication between the two governments which has yet been exposed to the public eye. On the contrary, we know that the Spanish authority was unequivocally asserted and maintained at Soledad, and asserted if not maintained over the whole group, for more than thirty years after the evacuation of Port Egmont.

These are facts which are not to be overthrown by any declarations or communications of British authorities or agents addressed to each other; nor should the reasons for which Port Egmont was abandoned, nor the flags, marks, or signals which are said to have been left there at that occasion, be considered as matters with which the rest of the world has any concern. If the right of possessing a territory be derived from occupancy, certainly that right should be regarded as resigned by abandonment of the territory for a long period; and no pretension seems to be more completely at variance with reason and justice than this advanced by the British government, according to which, an uninhabited country is to be forever rendered useless to the world—to be virtually annihilated—because a British flag had once been left flying on it. Whatever title may be established for Great Britain to the sovereignty of Port Egmont, or the West Falkland, by such strained interpretations of obsolete, arbitrary rules of national law—rules which her government has always strenuously repudiated whenever they have been cited against her claims—she has no just right to Soledad, or the East Falkland, which by the same rules are more clearly the property of Spain.

This critique agrees with other academic publications to a large extent. Even Freedman, the official historian mentioned above, seems to concur when he writes (p. 7):

The quality of the British claim cannot depend credibly on prior discovery or occupation. Reliance was placed instead on the settlement at Port Egmont, West Falkland. When established in 1766 the Falkland Islands were not res nullius (belonging to no one) as the French had a claim based on their earlier settlement in East Falkland and there were the existing Spanish claims. At most perhaps Britain was establishing a claim to West Falkland. Moreover, the departure of the settlers in 1774 could be taken as abandonment. So the claim depended on one settlement of a short duration, not replaced for almost sixty years and sustained by a plaque, which was soon removed and was of dubious validity after so many years.

Yet, these arguments were the only justification offered by Britain for the eviction of the Argentine authorities from Port Louis in 1833. ‘British seizure of the islands was based either on a misapprehension of the record or on strategic objectives that were inconsistent with the legal rights of first Spain and then Argentina’, writes Michael Reisman—an expert in international law from Yale University—in his work about the dispute. [25]

According to Ware, ‘there was no clear consensus within the British government as to the grounds on which sovereignty was claimed.’ [26] A letter from the Duke of Wellington, the Prime Minister at the time, may provide a glimpse into the mind of the authorities at London. A month after Vernet’s political appointment, Wellington writes to the Secretary of War and the Colonies that, having studied the case, he doubts that they possess sovereignty over all of those islands, as the treaty with Spain had gone no further than returning to Britain the old settlement at Saunders Island, which they abandoned shortly afterwards, nearly sixty years before the letter. He analyses the possibility of taking possession of the archipelago in response to Vernet’s appointment. ‘[I]n this case in which our right to possess more than Port Enmont [sic] is disputed, and at least doubtful, it is very desirable to avoid such acts.’ But he reckons the inconvenience of having the islands fall into French or American hands, either by means of a cession by Buenos Aires or, in the case of France, due to a claim based on their first settlement. Therefore, he recommends protesting to the decree sanctioned by Buenos Aires, claiming rights on the islands for King George IV, in order to impede those kinds of advances by Argentina and foreign powers. ‘I think that this is all that can be done at present.’

Wellington wrote this letter in July, 1829, four months before the first British claim after 55 years of acquiescence. It is worth mentioning that the Falklands/Malvinas command the Strait of Magellan and Cape Horn, which were the mandatory sea route between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans before the opening of the Panama Canal in 1914. This route was increasingly useful due to progress in the Pacific trade and European colonization in Oceania and Asia.

As said in the previous post, after the Lexington incident and the diplomatic quarrel that it ignited, it may be presumed that London found the opportunity to secure this strategic territory as it was confident that the US would not complain because it would go against its own interests. [27]

A military reaction from the US would have been unlikely even if the islands were seized before the Lexington attack, mostly because the US navy was not strong enough to challenge the British [28]. But a diplomatic response may have been expected. At their time, the Tories aimed for the moral high ground in the Concert of Europe and were worried about the US leading an isolated union of republics in the Americas. Given the weakness of the British case, London must have been concerned about the diplomatic implications of a seizure, as can be inferred from Wellington’s letter. After the Lexington episode, this limitation had been relaxed.

Moreover, the aggressive intervention of Capt. Duncan raised concerns in Britain about American intentions regarding possession of the islands, which may have tilted opinions towards favoring a seizure. Given that the US had already paid a price for undermining Argentine possession, they could as well occupy the islands to support commerce with South America and the profitable American sealing business in the southern seas. At the very least, these concerns may have supported the seizure in the UK. [29] Additionally, after Duncan’s attack, it presumably became less reprehensible to the eyes of the British public and the rest of the world, given the poor condition in which the settlement was left, most remarkably the reduction of its population.

Besides, London must have been encouraged by European developments between the 1829 protest and the 1833 invasion. Firstly, France had conquered Algeria, laying the grounds of the Second French Empire. Gallic commercial interests in South America were increasing, as well as French activity at the port of Montevideo. A French colonial empire could make good use of the islands to challenge British power in the Pacific.

More importantly, in 1830, the French had experienced the July Revolution, when Bourbon king Charles X was replaced by Louis Philippe d'Orléans. This event isolated France from the other continental powers, which denied recognition to the new king in order to discourage attempts to dethrone their own absolutist monarchs. The UK, a constitutional monarchy, became the only European power that was not confronted with the Gauls. Relations between the two nations became particularly friendly when the Whigs returned to power a few months later.

To recap, the international scenario had changed. The second colonization wave was nearer. The US suddenly did not mind if Britain asserted sovereignty on the islands. The UK had improved its position in Europe, as the continental powers were divided and France became a friend in need. Under these circumstances, oddly would have been that London left all of this strategic territory in the hands of a weak and fickle republic, that was vulnerable due to the sorry condition of Port Louis and was busy dealing with civil war. Which, by the way, was tending towards a victory of Federales who disliked foreign powers.

In this context, London took a step further on its post-1829 strategy and sent a ship to take possession of the islands in the British crown’s name. If diplomacy and the law of nations constituted impediments to British title, it could be discussed later.

Mission to the islands

The British station at Rio de Janeiro thus sent to Port Egmont the HMS Clio, commanded by John James Onslow, son of late Admiral Richard Onslow. Twenty days later, the HMS Tyne, which had been stationed for a month, was dispatched to the same destination. Both vessels were fairly capable for combat but, as explained before, the first was vulnerable unless complemented with the latter. Therefore, if Admiral Baker at Rio knew from the beginning that an Argentine armed schooner was at the islands, would he have sent the Clio alone? There were three other armed vessels at port. Wouldn’t he at least have instructed Onslow to wait for reinforcements at Port Egmont? I believe the reason for dispatching the Tyne may have been to support the Clio after receiving news of the force sent by the Argentinians. [30] According to an officer on board the Tyne, it was rumoured at Rio that Buenos Aires had sent a party to occupy Port Egmont. [31] This was probably distorted news originating from the commission of the Sarandí to Port Louis.

As this officer narrates, the Tyne reached Port Egmont, stayed for six days and sailed to Port Louis after finding a letter from the captain of the Clio. Onslow had remained at Port Egmont for eight days, before the arrival of the Tyne, trying to rebuild the old fort and examining the surroundings. He then proceeded to Port Louis and I am not sure that his motives are clear. Perhaps a passing ship delivered news from the Argentine settlement. He may have sailed to suffocate the mutiny—it had been noted that, unless properly taken care of, the islands could host a pirate base that would support attacks to ships navigating around Cape Horn. At some point, Onslow considered that it was his duty to remove the Argentine presence.

I am commenting without having had the chance to read Onslow’s orders, which may be in ADM 1/39 at the National Archives. If someone in the UK would like to check them out, I would appreciate it. Further details may be present in ADM 1/2276. I am curious about the verbatim because something in the typical account is not clear to me. Narratives normally state that the Clio and the Tyne were sent to the islands to take possession and evict the Argentine authority, often presenting it as if they sailed together. It is clear that they were sent to claim sovereignty and that they did not arrive at the same time, not even coincided at Port Egmont or Port Louis. But did they have orders to remove the Argentinians? (Note: Since writing this post I have found out that Argentine revisionist José María Rosa wrote that Onslow had no such orders, but Rosa did not elaborate on that point, perhaps due to the lack of a source such as the account from the Tyne).

The fact that initially only the Clio was sent suggests that Onslow traveled with no knowledge of the Argentine military presence. If the Tyne sailed to assist in the encounter with the Argentinians at Port Louis, why did it wait so long at Port Egmont before heading there? According to the officer on board the Tyne, they arrived on January 7^th at Port Egmont, dispatched a boat (which could have notified Onslow of their arrival and intelligence if the Clio was anchored there) and waited three days for a fog to clear up before making the port. Then they explored, hunted and rested in what the officer calls three days of jubilee. He writes:

The joyous fun on shore, and the joyous fare on board, naturally produced such a flow of hilarity in the ship, that for a week, at least, not a sad face was to be seen but the doctor's, who kept daily bewailing the rapid consumption of his calomel and salts, from the host of boils and bilious attacks, engendered by the feastings and carousings.—From a letter left in a bottle at the flag-staff, we learned that the Clio had sailed for Berkeley Sound, East Falkland, [where Port Louis is,] and thither we proceeded, on January 12th, with a strong breeze in our favour, getting abreast the land about noon, and sailing along it within good view distance.

This officer relates an episode from January 10^th in which he says that they knew that the Argentines were residing at the eastern island. Would they have rested if they knew that the Clio was headed towards a dangerous confrontation there? It took only about twenty days to sail from Rio to Port Egmont, and very few from there to Port Louis. Was the Clio deemed strong enough to deal alone with an Argentine force? Besides, why does the officer mention the letter as their reason to sail to East Falkland/Soledad?

This leads me to entertain the possibility that the Tyne had sailed to assist the Clio at Port Egmont, in case it was true that the Argentinians had attempted to occupy it, and that the Clio’s trip to Port Louis was largely Onslow’s initiative. If he was sent to take possession of the islands, it is implicit that he had to expel foreign flags. But if his orders did not specify actions at Port Louis, they may have been accomplished by simply clearing Port Egmont, hoisting the Union Jack there and visibly proclaiming sovereignty. That would lead to a sort of repeat of the status quo between 1765 and 1771, when the British settlement coexisted with Port Louis/Soledad while both sides claimed ownership over the whole archipelago (it is said that the visit by the Clio and Tyne was to be the first of a series of annual visits).

Such a mission would have served a purpose, as it would have protected the islands from the ambition of other powers if Buenos Aires failed to maintain its claim, and it would have moved forward a claim for at least the western portion of the archipelago, which would have been, as argued before, better grounded than one based on the eviction of the Argentinians. Regarding them, Britain could have waited for a better opportunity to deal with their settlement, maybe speculate on their abandonment, or perhaps tolerate their presence just like it accepted their dominion over the neighbouring mainland.

However, if London really did not decide to evict the Argentinians when preparing the orders in 1832, it did when it endorsed Onslow’s actions in its answer to the subsequent diplomatic protest from Buenos Aires. This decision may have been influenced by the fact that a disavowal of Onslow’s performance could be interpreted as British recognition of the Argentine claim, like when Spain restituted Port Egmont to Britain in 1771.

Onslow’s trip to Port Louis brings us back to the narration that opened this post. After reaffirming British sovereignty before Pinedo and requesting the removal of the Argentine flag, the British commander gathered Vernet’s labourers. These were those few who had stayed after the USS Lexington attack, including some gauchos and Charrúa Amerindians who worked the cattle and were encamped in the interior at the time of Duncan’s incursion. Onslow asked them to go on working hard for four of five months. Then, if nobody had returned to pay their wages, they could take the value in wild cattle and either stay on the islands or make their way to the mainland. Graham–Yooll comments that this offer was generous but irresponsible. [32] The gauchos were presumably happy about the prospect to collect their dues in cattle, but the offer would cause chaos later that year, as Britain would establish an administration no sooner than in 1834.

Onslow's men erected a flag-post next to the main store and instructed the storekeeper, a Dubliner who was the senior British resident [33], to raise the Union Jack regularly. They also lowered the Argentine flag that Pinedo had refused to remove, and delivered it to the Sarandí observing proper honors. A day later, the Argentine schooner left with Pinedo, the rest of the military, their families and four of Vernet’s settlers who had decided to leave. An English merchant schooner assisted them with the transport of the mutineers.

Immediate aftermath

The crew of the Clio stayed at Port Louis for ten days. Shortly after their departure, the Tyne arrived, only to leave a few days later. The islands were left without formal authority for some time. [34] One of Vernet’s men, a Scottish seaman named Matthew Brisbane, returned to Port Louis to keep an eye on his boss's property. Vernet later traveled to the UK seeking for compensation for his financial losses, and also petitioned to the US. Those were the final efforts that they dedicated to their ambitious dream of South Atlantic colonization, which started in 1823 and looked so promising before the Lexington attack. Brisbane would be killed by some gauchos later in 1833 and Vernet would never get any meaningful reparation.

Ironically, Vernet’s decision to enforce sealing regulations in 1831, which ignited the chain of events that lead to his ruin, was sort of endorsed—perhaps without notice—a few years after the British seizure, by American and British geographers who commented on the islands apparently unmindful of sovereignty disputes. [35]

When Pinedo arrived at Buenos Aires, the mutineers were tried—most of them were executed—and he was charged for failing to comply with a norm in the Argentine naval code that said that ships had to offer resistance to any aggression, even against a superior force. We can imagine that Pinedo’s defense resorted to every argument that they could give. The technical ones were discredited by the imperative to fight whatever the chances, so they stressed the low morale exhibited by the crew when preparing the attack. According to the captain’s declaration, he had discussed with his aid that the men were doubtful because they feared for their lives and “could not fight against their nation”, in reference to a majority who “were English” (meaning the many English, Irish and Scottish sailors among his crew). Some narratives pick up on the last argument to say that Pinedo did not resist because his mostly-English crew refused to fight, which probably misrepresents his motives. Mercenaries were expected to follow orders regardless of the circumstantial foe, and a refusal to fight would not have gone unnoticed.

Pinedo was charged with a four-month suspension on his salary and with a for-life denial of command of any navy ship. The latter was soon suspended, perhaps owing to the unreasonableness of the punishment, although his family connections must have mattered, as well as Argentina’s shortage of skilled sailors. He could carry on with his career.

Since 1833, Britain has been in control of the islands, with the exception of a ten-week period in 1982. Meanwhile, Argentina has been claiming. In the history of the British colony, 1833 marks a foundational milestone, as suggested by the commemorative stamps shown throughout this post. I intend to go on narrating the Falklands/Malvinas in the future, besides some more philatelic-centered articles that I am owing you. As usual, comments are welcome.

[1] Mestivier’s first names may have been Juan Esteban or José Francisco.

[2] Freedman, L., The Official History of the Falklands Campaign, Vol. 1, Rutledge, London & NY (2005), pp. 6–7. It is curious that Freedman states that Onslow claimed that the islands belonged to no-one. In its February 27, 2010 edition, The Telegraph published an article about this official version supposedly containing errors according to Pascoe and Pepper, the authors of the “Getting it Right” internet pamphlet that I have been criticizing in footnotes in these posts. This statement attributed to Onslow is one of four “errors” given in what is claimed to be just a sample. Pascoe and Pepper may have had a point in this one, although I find their other three “error”–“correction” pairs to be dubious. However, there are other minor doubtful points in this section by Freedman, such as saying that the Tyne reached Port Egmont in December (instead of January) and attributing the title of Captain to Onslow (instead of Commander).

[3] Gustafson, L. S.; “Historical Rights”; The Sovereignty Dispute over the Falkland (Malvinas) Islands; Oxford University Press, Oxford, U.K (1988), p.26

[4] I do not consider the word ‘invasion’ to be a statement about the legality of the act, just as D-Day is more often called ‘the invasion of Normandy’ than ‘the takeover’ or ‘recovery’ of Normandy.

[5] The French–Spanish–Argentine settlement was located in the island of Soledad, or East Falkland, near Stanley, the current capital and where most of the inhabitants of the Falklands/Malvinas reside. Soledad/East Falkland is one of the two largest islands in the archipelago. Port Egmont, the old British settlement, was on Saunders island, a smaller member of the archipelago, located on its north–west.

[6] In his classic treatise on international law, Oppenheim writes:

‘[A way of acquiring territory is] Possession—The territory must really be taken into possession by the occupying State. For this purpose it is necessary that it should take the territory under its sway (corpus) with the intention of acquiring sovereignty over it (animus). This can only be done by a settlement on the territory accompanied by some formal act which announces both that the territory has been taken possession of and that the possessor intends to keep it under its sovereignty. It usually consists either of a proclamation or of a hoisting of a flag. But such formal act by itself constitutes fictitious occupation only, unless there is left on the territory a settlement which is able to keep up the authority of the flag. [...] After having, in the aforementioned way, taken possession of a territory, the possessor must establish some kind of administration thereon which shows that the territory is really governed by the new possessor. If, within a reasonable time after the act of taking possession, the possessor does not establish some responsible authority which exercises governing functions, there is then no effective occupation, since in fact no sovereignty is exercised by any State over the territory. (Oppenheim, L and Roxburgh, R.; International Law: A Treatise, Vol. 1; pp. 384–385)

[7] There was no agreement about the amount of time that would have caused the inchoate title awarded by discovery or first landing to ripen; in other words, on how long the ‘reasonable time’ referred by Oppenheim and Roxburgh (see the previous footnote) may have been. John Westlake (in The Collected Papers of John Westlake on Public International Law; Cambridge University Press; pp. 166–167) refers to Pasquale Fiore’s proposal that it was twenty-five years, saying that Fiore cites Dudley Field, who had already proposed such a rule. Moreover, I have not read any authoritative sources suggesting that, when settling at Port Egmont, an inchoate title earned via Strong’s landing was still valid.

[8] Some publications state that the restitution was formalized through an agreement with ‘neither side relinquishing sovereignty claims’ (quoted from Wikipedia), which is misleading. The said agreement was rather a written pledge from Spain followed by a note of acceptance from Britain. In its document, Spain declares that no changes in sovereignty status should be derived from the restitution. As said before, a tacit renouncement in favour of Britain, of at least the territory occupied by the port, could be inferred if there were no such statement. That is why it is called a ‘reservation of rights’, although it is doubtful if such a declaration can entirely prevent the interpretation of tacit renouncement. However, the statement did not preclude the possible effects on Britain’s claim from it having responded by expressing satisfaction, without any protest or reference whatsoever to the Spanish claim for the whole archipelago or to its settlement at Puerto Soledad. There is no reservation of rights in the British answer. The Spanish reservation does not say that no change of status should be inferred from the understanding. The original verbatim of the Spanish declaration was ‘l’engagement de sa dite Majesté Catholique, de restituer à sa Majesté Britannique la possession du port et fort dit Egmont, ne peut ni ne doit nullement affecter la question du droit antérieur de souveraineté des Iles Maloüines, autrement dites Falkland’, engagement meaning pledge, promise. The reservation was circumscribed to that compromise assumed by the Spanish king, ‘l’engagement de sa dite Majesté’, which would otherwise weaken his case. Pascoe and Pepper, failing to see this point when authoring their internet-published pamphlet “Getting it Right”, attack Rudolf Dolzer when he states, as they quote, that ‘[I]t has to be observed that Spain explicitly reserved her rights to the Islands while Britain at no point addressed the issue of sovereignty.’ They respond that ‘A reading of the original texts confirms that both countries’ rights were reserved’, which is incorrect.

[9] FitzRoy, R., ‘Narrative of the Surveying Voyages of His Majesty's Ships Adventure and Beagle Vol. II: Proceedings of the second expedition, 1831-1836, under the command of Captain Robert Fitz-Roy’, p. 235.

[10] Vernet, L.; Report of the Political and Military Commandant of Malvinas to the Chargé d’Affairs of the United States, 10^th August 1832; in Great Britain. Foreign and Commonwealth Office; British and Foreign State Papers, Vol. 20, 1832–1833; James Ridgway and Sons, Picadilly, U.K.; pp. 369–436

[11] British polemicist Junius, a pseudonym of Sir Philip Francis probably, wrote that there had been ‘a private insinuation or encouragement to the Catholic King to hope, and most probably, not to say certainly, an express assurance, that not only Port Egmont, now restored to us, but the whole island, shall in due time, as soon as they dare, be surrendered to the crown of Spain.’ (Woodfall, G. (ed.); Junius: including letters by the same writer, under other signatures, (now first collected.) To which are added, his confidential correspondence with Mr. Wilkes, and his private letters addressed to Mr. H.S. Woodfall; pp. 334–337.) Most remarkable is that he published those lines in 1771, three years before the evacuation, though he may have been just speculating. Junius was commenting on the agreement with Spain treated in footnote 8 above. He criticized its terms strongly and attributed high value to the archipelago. Samuel Johnson published a response, attacking him and minimizing the importance of the islands—an argument that would constitute the official justification for the abandonment of Port Egmont a few years later (see Johnson, S; Thoughts on the late transactions concerning the Falkland Islands; London, U.K.; 1771)

In a book published in the U.K. in 1841, Craik and MacFarlane comment on this debate. They also discuss the value of the islands and the British reluctance to be open about accepting the Spanish claim, giving credit to the possibility of a secret agreement:

[A]s far as parliament was concerned, the question of Falkland Island was set at rest. But out of doors it long continued to be a vexed question; one party maintaining that the honour of the country had been meanly sacrificed, and that, in the convention, there was a secret article implying that, after all, we were to give up Port Egmont. Upon this side it was attempted to be proved by the powerful, caustic Junius, and by other writers, that the possession of Port Egmont was of the utmost importance to us, both in a commercial and in a military sense, and that the Falkland group was highly favoured by the hand of nature, and would be invaluable in the hands of any great power. To combat these opinions Dr. Johnson again took up the pen political, and in a pamphlet entitled "Thoughts concerning Falkland Islands," written with more vigour of style than geographical knowledge, he laboured to demonstrate that the whole group was worth little or nothing, and that it would have been monstrously absurd to go to war about them. Johnson was at least as far from the truth as Junius. Those islands contain numerous and excellent harbours; and Port Egmont in East [sic] Falkland, and Berkeley Sound in West [sic] Falkland, are two safe and spacious bays, with depth of water sufficient for the largest men of war, and excellent anchoring ground. The climate, though changeable, is healthy, bearing a pretty close resemblance to that of England. Anti-scorbutic plants, of such inestimable value to mariners, grow there in abundance. All vegetation is rapid; the soil in the plains is very good; wheat, flax, and potatoes have been raised; and cabbages, turnips, and other kinds of vegetables have been produced in great quantities and of excellent quality. The islands swarm with rabbits, which are unusually large, and have a fine fur; the penguins which visit the shores are valuable on account of their eggs; seals are very numerous; and the sea abounds with good fish. Other comestible resources exist in wild ducks and other game, in herds of wild horned cattle, and wild hogs; and there is a breed of horses, small in size, but very hardy. To ships about to double the stormy Cape Horn, or to attempt the more dangerous passage of the Magalhaens Straits, these harbours were invaluable as places of refuge; to sailors employed on long voyages the resources of the islands were precious in the highest degree, and more so then than now, as the ravages of the scurvy were not yet checked by medical science, and by the better care now taken in ventilating, finding, and provisioning our ships. But, even if the Falkland Islands had been as barren and as valueless as Dr. Johnson chose to represent them, it behoved England to resent the conduct of the Spaniards in falling upon her little colony at Port Egmont in a time of peace. Any mean submission to a small injury or affront inevitably leads to a greater; and until states, and governments, and individuals are better than they are—until some notable improvement takes place in human nature,—the best way to preserve peace is always to be ready for a war. Whether it was in consequence of any secret agreement or tacit understanding with the Spanish government, or from the false notion that the place was not worth keeping, the English force was recalled, and Port Egmont was abandoned in 1774, or about three years after the signing of the convention. (Craick, G.L., MacFarlane, C.; The Pictorial History of England During the Reign of George the Third 1760–1785; C. Knight (1841), London, U.K.; pp. 110–111)

[12] An additional element that may support an interpretation of renouncement from Britain is Article VI of the First Nootka Sound Convention (a.k.a. Tratado de San Lorenzo), signed between Britain and Spain in 1790, when Spain was settled at Puerto Soledad and Britain had abandoned Port Egmont 16 years before. The article stipulated that ‘with respect to the eastern and western coasts of South America and the islands adjacent, that the respective subjects shall not form in the future any establishment on the parts of the coast situated to the south of the parts of the same coast and of the islands adjacent already occupied by Spain.’ This is a form of recognition of Spanish sovereignty over ‘islands adjacent [to the coasts of South America] already occupied by Spain’. Gustafson writes:

Spain had conceded that the southern seas were open to British fishermen, who could use nearby land for shelter. Any occupation of that land was prohibited. England had agreed to this only if no third party established new colonies in the South Pacific or South Atlantic. Nevertheless, for the time being, England had agreed not to occupy islands then occupied by Spain. The Malvinas were among the islands then occupied by Spain. Spain had surrendered its claimed exclusive right of navigation and fishing in the area in return for Britain's recognition of Spanish sovereignty over occupied regions. If Britain ever had claim to the Falklands, it seems to have been seriously compromised in this treaty. Hugo and Berrutt conclude that Britain had affirmed and guaranteed "the exclusive juridical power of Spain, excluding all other sovereigns from the region where the islands were situated." The Spanish population, which occupied the islands until 1811, further strengthened Spain's claim.’ (Gustafson, p. 21)

There was a secret clause in the agreement stipulating that Article VI would remain in force only as long as other powers did not establish themselves on the coasts in question. Some dubious sources such as Pascoe and Pepper argue that Argentina would play the role of one other power, therefore allowing Britain to disregard the article in 1833. But the relation between the document and the Falklands/Malvinas dispute lies elsewhere and is twofold. First, the understanding may be interpreted as tacit British recognition of Spanish rights over the islands at the time of its celebration. Second, Argentina inherited Spanish rights over Argentine territory in virtue of being the successor of Spain there, therefore playing the role of Spain in the treaty (for certain territories of the Spanish Empire), not of one other power.

However, there are better-founded challenges to the relevancy of the Nootka Conventions. Are the Falklands/Malvinas ‘adjacent’ to the coast? Do the islands ‘already occupied by Spain’ include those where Spanish dominion was not recognized by Britain? Were the non-commercial stipulations revived after being suspended by the Anglo-Spanish war of 1795?

[13] This point is made by Greenhow in a quote given later in the post. Also by Gustafson when he writes (p. 20):

The longer a nation goes without exercising sovereignty over a territory, especially when other nations are doing so, the weaker the first nation's claim to a territory becomes. If first occupation of territories res nullius provides the best title, continuing that occupation maintains it. [...] As years wore on, the title given by Britain's intention to keep it, as shown by the plaque, became so abstract as to be meaningless.

Hope offers more details:

The British claims to title, based purely on constructive possession maintained through symbolic relics, were baseless not only in law but also in fact. In law because: (1) the theory that possession could be maintained on an island without a settlement for such an extended period of time (59 years), as leading British legal writers have acknowledged specifically with reference to the Falklands was itself contrary to the accepted practices of the time; (2) following the Palmas Island rationale, such a title, if it had been so recognized, could not have prevailed over a superior title based on effective possession and the actual and peaceful display of another state's sovereignty; and (3) moreover, England had waived its rights to the Islands in 1790 by treaty. The alleged title was baseless in fact also because the relics and the lead plate had been removed by the Spanish in the eighteenth century, and the English knew about it. In this connection, there is only one period when the Islands could conceivably have been viewed as a territorium nullius (de facto) by states which did not recognize the Latin American doctrine of constructive possession based on the uti possidetis iuris rule and that was between 1811 and 1820. However, during this time, when all Spanish presence on the Islands had been physically withdrawn therefrom, England did not occupy them. And if this circumstance is not yet another proof of a British animus derelinquendi one should be able to argue that it is, indeed, the nearest thing to it. (Hope, A. F. J.; “Sovereignty and Decolonization of the Malvinas (Falkland) Islands”; Boston College International and Comparative Law Review; Vol. 6, Issue 2, Art. 3; (1983); p. 425)

[14] Gustafson writes:

The abandonment of Port Egmont in 1774 is more important than the disputed existence of a secret agreement, or British intentions in 1774 to keep or surrender right to the islands, or protests against acts of sovereignty by Spain and then Argentina over all the Falklands, including West Falkland, on which Port Egmont had been established [sic]. After 1774 there was a lapse until 1829 of fifty-five years in asserting a questionable claim while other states exercised sovereignty. In addition, Britain signed treaties with Spain and Argentina during this period in which it made no reservations about its right to the islands and in which it implied recognition of the other states' claim. The effect of fifty-five years of nonassertion on Britain's claim was significant. Even if there was no secret agreement, and Britain had intended to maintain its claim to the islands, the principle of extinctive prescription would jeopardize Britain's claim, especially after more than fifty years.’ (Gustafson, pp. 19–20).

Gustafson locates Port Egmont in West Falkland, one of the two main islands in the archipelago, but it was actually located at an adjacent, smaller island.

[15] Gustafson, p. 34–35.

[16] Grotius, H., Whewell, W.; Grotius on the Rights of War and Peace; abridged translation (1853); Cambridge University Press, London, U.K, p. 87

[17] Let us briefly evaluate these factors during the period of British acquiescence. Could the United Kingdom be impeded to act during those 55 years? It controlled the world’s most powerful navy. It was a country of numerous, seafaring people. At some point it was at war with Spain, which motivated it to invade Buenos Aires in 1806 and 1807 but not the Spanish settlement at the islands. Some of the numerous ships stopping by the islands must have noticed that Spain abandoned its settlement in 1811, no less than 18 years before the first British claim since 1774. Vernet’s words and example indicate that these were economically self sustaining, a view supported by Junius and by the subsequent economic history of the archipelago until the opening of the Panama Canal, although it must be noted that this value had risen since the beginning of the period of British acquiescence. Britain had the opportunity to reserve rights in various agreements it signed with Spain and Argentina, including the treaty with which it recognized the independence of the latter, a country that emerged from the old vice-royalty that controlled the islands, was in need of such recognition and had proximity to the archipelago. It could have protested or requested further information about Jewitt’s proclaim, which was echoed in European and American newspapers and witnessed by at least one British officer, Captain Weddell, who published a narrative of the Argentine proclaim years before Britain protested.

[18] It must be noted, though, that the first of those invasions was most probably not endorsed officially.

[19] Translation from a quotation in La Abeja Argentina, Issues 1–7 (1822), pp. 88–89

[20] See Nuñez, A. J., El gran norte de Nueva España/ México: una frontera imperial (1540-1820); p. 280.

[21] Quote from a letter by Madison in 1808, acting as Secretary of State, to G.H. Rose, a British envoy sent to discuss the Chesapeake affair, as quoted in Niles, H. (ed.); Niles’ Weekly Register, Vol. 1; Franklin Press, Baltimore, MD; (1812); p. 76

[22] None of the maps at http://www.britishempire.co.uk/maproom/falkland/falklandsmaps.htm that predate 1833 labels the eastern island with a British-given name, including several that identify the other large island with one such as ‘Falkland’, ‘West Falkland’ or Hawking’s ‘Maidenland’. The French naval map of 1800 labels the first island ‘Falkland’ and the second with the Spanish name ‘I. de la Soledad’. The British one of 1814 published by Arrowsmith calls the first ‘West Falkland’ and the second ‘Isle Soledad’. The French map of 1826 labels them ‘Isle Maidenland’ and French-given ‘Isle Conti’ respectively, while that of 1827 calls them ‘Isle Falkland ou Isle Maindenland [sic]´ and ‘Isle Conti’. C.V. Monin’s 1822 atlas labels them ‘I. Falkland’ and ‘I Soledad ou Conti’. This suggests that only after 1833 was East Falkland/isla Soledad (sometimes) indicated with a British name on maps.

[23] I have not read arguments to the contrary in authoritative literature. I do not mean to say that there is no basis for a British case in 2013, but the case as presented by London around 1833 is certainly hard to defend.

[24] Greenhow, R.; “The Falkland Islands”; Hunt’s Merchants’ Magazine, vol. 6 (1842); pp. 104–151

[25] Reisman, W. M.; “The Struggle for the Falklands”; Faculty Scholarship Series; Paper 726; Yale Law School, CT; 1983; p. 302

[26] Ware, R.; “The Case of Antonio Rivero and Sovereignty Over the Falkland Islands”; The Historical Journal, 27, 4 (1984), pp. 961–967; Cambridge University Press, UK

[27] Reisman writes:

The United States government asked a Spanish historian to investigate the ownership of the Falklands, and to determine whether the British had abjured their rights to the Falklands in a secret treaty. The historian answered that the Falklands had been part of the Vice-Royalty of Buenos Aires, but that he had not seen evidence of a secret agreement abjuring British rights. On the basis of this ambiguous report, the United States inexplicably decided not to apply the Monroe Doctrine when the British re-entered the Falklands. The United States argued then and later that jurisdiction over the Falklands was contested. Therefore, the controversy between the United States and Argentina could not be resolved until that prior issue was settled. By tacitly acceding to the British claim, the United States was able to avoid any responsibility for the Lexington's detour. From 1833 on, Great Britain remained in control of the Falklands. (Reisman, p. 300)

[28] Wikipedia currently states that the Monroe Doctrine was worked in agreement with Britain. This follows a common misapprehension about the role, in its making, of George Canning, who was the British foreign secretary at the time. Canning could hardly have vowed for the doctrine due to the Tories’ concern about the US leading an isolated union of American republics. As explained in The Cambridge History of British Foreign Policy 1783–1919, Vol. 2, pp. 68–72, the US were motivated by Canning’s decision to stop French affairs in America and by meetings that Secretary of State John Quincy Adams had had with the Briton, where Canning urged for an American statement that Britain could use at the Concert of Europe to protect the American revolutions from intromission by the absolutist monarchs of the old continent. At Washington, an opportunity was seen to advance American interests beyond what Britain was proposing. Thus they proclaimed what was later called the Monroe Doctrine. London accepted it and found uses for the doctrine anyway. Herrings’ From Colony to Superpower: U.S. Foreign Relations Since 1776 offers a similar account (pp. 153–157).

[29] A contemporary British journal published the following commentary:

[T]here can be no doubt that if the British Government had not interfered in the manner I have alluded to, the United States would have gone to war with the Buenos Ayreans about [the islands], and would very soon have added another star to their national colours. It was therefore, in my humble opinion, an admirable stroke of policy in our Government to have thus prevented these important islands from falling into the hands of the United States; for, in the event of our having another war with America, there can be no question that, in having possession of the Falkland Islands, we should hold as it were the keys of the Pacific! As the American Minister, in his argument with the Government at Buenos Ayres, acknowledged that if any country had a greater claim to them than his own it was Great Britain, the President of the United States has, I believe, been obliged to remain silent on the subject! It is not often Jonathan outwits himself; and little did he think in what he let out, as it were by accident, that John Bull would take the hint. (“The Falkland Islands”; The United Service Journal and Naval and Military Magazine (1834) Part III; Colburn, London, U.K.; pp. 337–338)

[30] Related or not, Admiral Baker dispatched the HMS Pylades to the River Plate at about the same time as he sent the HMS Tyne to the islands.

[31] “Original Papers: Visit to the Falkland Isles”; The Athenaeum, Issues 271-322; pp. 478–480 & 497–499

[32] Graham-Yooll, A.; Imperial Skirmishes: War and Gunboat Diplomacy in Latin America; Signal Books Ltd., Oxford, UK (2002); pp. 48–53. I am relying on this source for this narration about the offer to the gauchos. It is worth noting that Robert FitzRoy reported that he had to convince the gauchos (again) during a visit he paid in March 1833.

[33] This was before the secession of the Irish Free State.

[34] The chief of the cattle workers, Jean (Juan) Simon, had been named head of the settlement by Pinedo at his departure. But this title was largely symbolic after the removal of Argentine control.

[35] Three "endorsements" from Google Books:

[The islands'] shores, however, are crowded with those huge creatures, the sea elephant and sea leopard, whose rich coating of oil renders them a tempting prize. Hence they have become an object of attention principally to American navigators, who, during the few years that have elapsed since the islands were known, have made dreadful havoc among these animals, and greatly thinned their numbers. (Mitchell, S.A.; An Accompaniment to Mitchell's Map of the World; Hinman and Dutton, Philadelphia, PA (1837), p. 559)

The lark, a hardy bird, appears here [in South Georgia] as well as in Hudson's Bay, and there are numbers of large penguins, seals, and sea elephants. The abundance of these last attracted the notice of those southern fisheries, who prosecuted the chase with such activity, that these animals have been nearly extirpated. (Goodrich, S.G.; Pictorial geography of the world, Vol. 1; Otis, Broders and Co., Boston, MA (1840); p. 477)

There is no doubt that if this fishery was properly protected, it would become much more productive; but several sealing vessels, particularly Americans, make a point of killing, not only the full grown and legitimate game, but destroy a future chance by also sacrificing the pups. (Mackinnon, L.B.; Some account of the Falkland Islands, from a six months' residence in 1838 and 1839; Baily and Co., London, UK (1840); p. 42)

Falklands or Malvinas? Louis Vernet's Settlement

2012-04-02T06:49:00.000-03:00

This is the first article of a series about the sovereignty dispute over the islands in the South Atlantic called Falklands by the British, who control and inhabit them, and Malvinas by Argentina, the country that contests their ownership. I chose this topic because of my enthusiasm for history, the fact that I am Argentine, and because on this day, 30 years ago, an Argentine force took over the islands’ capital, starting the regrettable 1982 Malvinas/Falklands crisis. This commemoration motivated the stamp shown on the right, issued last Saturday.

This will hopefully be a four-post series. There are philatelic materials and stories that I will present but, this time, please allow me to use philately to contextualize history [1] rather than doing it the other way round, as usual.

In her address to the U.N. Security Council during the conflict, U.S. Ambassador Kirk Fitzpatrick summarizes the long, legal dispute that preceded the 1982 war:

We have all come to appreciate how deep the roots of the conflict are. Britain, in peaceful possession of the Falkland Islands for 150 years, has been passionately devoted to the proposition that the rights of the inhabitants should be respected in any future disposition of the Islands. No one can say that this attitude, coming from a country that has granted independence to more than 40 countries in a generation and a half, is a simple reflex to retain possession.

Yet know how deep is the Argentine commitment to recover islands they believe were taken from them by illegal force. This is not some sudden passion, but a long-sustained national concern that also stretches back 150 years, heightened by the sense of frustration at what Argentina feels were nearly 20 years of fruitless negotiation.[2]

The 150-year span, referred by Fitzpatrick, started with the events of January, 1833, when two British warships arrived at the islands, and removed the Argentine authorities that had been sent to repair the damage that a warship from the U.S. had done to the settlement founded by Louis Vernet.

Vernet was a Hamburg-born merchant of French Huguenot descent, married to a lady of the River Plate region. In the early 1820s, while he was operating a cattle business in the province of Buenos Aires, a relative-in-law, Jorge Pacheco, approached him with a proposal that probably caught his ambitious, entrepreneurial eye.

The government [3], owing Pacheco money in exchange of services rendered during the war for independence, had offered him a grant for the exploitation of wild cattle at Malvinas/Falklands, an activity that the Spanish undertook before abandoning the islands in 1811. Pacheco took the proposal to Vernet, who saw an economic potential, not just from cattle but also from fishery and support to sea traffic, the latter being numerous because the islands were on the main sea route between the Atlantic and Pacific oceans (before the opening of the Panama Canal). [4] Or at least he argued about this potential in 1832, in a report he wrote for the American Chargé d’Affairs where, among other things, he questions the reasons, of an economic nature, that the British were giving to justify their abandonment of the islands decades before. [5]

As a well-read person, he also must have known that a proper occupation of the islands would strengthen the sovereignty that Buenos Aires claimed shortly before. Associated with Pacheco, they accepted the offer and enticed the government with the sovereignty argument to raise the ante, obtaining permission to re-found the old Spanish settlement. Equipped with those concessions and ships, hardware and men funded by Vernet, they tried to establish a settlement in 1823, but failed, as they did on another expedition in 1824, which was commanded by Pablo Areguati, who was designated commandant of the islands by Buenos Aires in 1823 [6]. However, Vernet succeeded in 1826, after purchasing Pacheco’s part, therefore rising the first Argentine permanent settlement on the islands [7] since they were claimed, in this country’s name, by Captain David Jewitt in 1820 [8] [9], on the grounds of them being inside the sphere of the former Spanish colony and, as a consequence, now within the borders of the independent nation that had emerged from it. [10] [11]

This originates from a legal principle called uti possidetis juris, which was an important criterion to settle the borders of nascent states. [12] European nations were not formally bound by it but they normally respected it, customary practice being an important source of international law. During their wars for independence, the nations of the Americas disputed their territory with their former colonial powers, not with unprovoked third nations that felt that they had been given free rein to grab a piece. Moreover, uti possidetis juris, when applied to frontiers that were already international before the advent of the new state, was considered as a derivation of a preexisting general law of state succession by the International Court of Justice in its judgement for the frontier dispute between Burkina Faso and Mali:

[T]he [uti possidetis juris] principle is not a special rule which pertains solely to one specific system of international law. It is a general principle, which is logically connected with the phenomenon of the obtaining of independence, wherever it occurs. [...] Its purpose, at the time of the achievement of independence by the former Spanish colonies of America, was to scotch any designs which non-American colonizing powers might have on regions which had been assigned by the former metropolitan State to one division or another, but which were still uninhabited or unexplored. However, there is more to the principle of uti possidetis than this particular aspect. The essence of the principle lies in its primary aim of securing respect for the territorial boundaries at the moment when independence is achieved. [...] The territorial boundaries which have to be respected may also derive from international frontiers which previously divided a colony of one State from a colony of another, or indeed a colonial territory from the territory of an independent State, or one which was under protectorate, but had retained its international personality. There is no doubt that the obligation to respect pre-existing international frontiers in the event of a State succession derives from a general rule of international law, whether or not the rule is expressed in the formula uti possidetis.

Gustafson makes the point that, if uti possidetis juris were not recognized for the Argentine actions starting in 1820, the principle of acquiring res nullius may be, given that Spain abandoned the islands in 1811. [13] The Law of Nations considered that res nullius, or nobody's property, was available for whom properly claimed and occupied it. I find the application of res nullius to be arguable for this case, given that Spain’s absence was short and justified by the war with its former colonies, although the loss of the Vice-Royalty was reason to believe that the Iberians would not be interested in exercising sovereignty anymore. But Gustafson’s point is that, if uti possidetis juris is rejected on the grounds of Spain losing possession in 1811 when she abandoned the islands, then Argentina would earn rights by virtue of acquisition of res nullius. The other possibilities are to consider the islands in 1820 to be Spanish or to acknowledge competing claims if there were ones with merits at that time. More about this in the next post.

In 1828, Vernet extended his concessions by obtaining further land from Buenos Aires [14], and moved his family to the islands. To read more about his project, I recommend the aforementioned report, written by himself in 1832 to present his case to the American authorities, after the destruction of presumably much of his settlement by Captain Silas Duncan of the USS Lexington [15]. It is a well-written, albeit long, piece where he details the story of the Argentine presence in the islands, and argues thoroughly in favor of her rights to them. Needless to say, it is the version he put forward in 1832 as a stakeholder, not an historian, yet I find it compatible with what I have read from authoritative sources.

Contemporary accounts about Vernet's settlement were also given by two Captains of the Royal Navy: Robert FitzRoy and L. B. Mackinnon. FitzRoy writes:

To show how well the little colony, established by Mr Vernet at Port Louis, was succeeding, prior to its harsh and unnecessary ruin by Captain Duncan, we give an account of it by a visitor: “The settlement is situated half round a small cove, which has a narrow entrance from the sound. This entrance, in the time of the Spaniards, was commanded by two forts, both now lying in ruins; the only use made of one being to confine the wild cattle in its circular wall; when newly brought in from the interior. The governor, Louis Vernet, received me with cordiality. He possesses much information, and speaks several languages. His house is long and low, of one story, with very thick walls of stone. I found in it a good library of Spanish, German, and English works. A lively conversation passed at dinner; the party consisting of Mr Vernet and his wife, Mr Brisbane, and others. In the evening, we had music and dancing. In the room was a grand piano forte. Mrs Vernet, a Buenos Ayrean lady, gave us some excellent singing, which sounded not a little strange at the Falkland Isles, where we expected to find only sealers.

“Mr. Vernet’s establishment consisted of about fifteen slaves, bought by him from the Buenos Ayrean Government, on the condition of teaching them some useful employment, and having their services for a certain number of years, after which they were to be freed. They seemed generally to be from fifteen to twenty years of age, and appeared contented and happy.

“The total number of persons on the island consisted of about one hundred, including twenty-five gauchos and five Indians. There were two Dutch families (the women of which milked the cows and made butter) ; two or three Englishmen; a German family; and the remainder were Spaniards and Portuguese, pretending to follow some trade, but doing little or nothing. The gauchos were chiefly Buenos Ayreans; but their capataz or leader was a Frenchman.”

Such was the state of Vernet’s settlement a few months before the Lexington’s visit; and there was then every reason for the settlers to anticipate success, as they, poor deluded people, never dreamed of having no business there without having obtained the permission of the British Government.

Mackinnon's work corresponds to his 6-month residence at the islands in 1838, shortly following the expulsion of the Argentine authorities and before Britain had established its authority or there was any significant new immigration. In his depiction he narrates how Buenos Aires granted land to Vernet, 'who, after surmounting many difficulties, and under several privations, was advancing prosperously in his attempt at colonization', also describing the drying establishment where 'Don Louis Vernet, the governor, under the Argentine Republic, prepared this fish for the Brazilian market' and the numerous cattle that were tamed by Vernet's gauchos.

Jewett's and FitzRoy's accounts are reproduced in Ellms' Robinson Crusoe’s own book [16], published in the US in 1848. All of these texts are available for online reading.

Vernet was commemorated twice inpostal issues from Argentina. Firstly on a pair (Sc. 1365 and 1366), shown on the right, that was issued on June 12, 1982, during the last days of the war. A quite ugly pair, if you ask me. I prefer the second pair, issued in 2009, shown in pictures above, comprised of a stamp and a miniature sheet. These reproduce oil paintings by Luisa Vernet Lavalle Lloveras, who I believe was Vernet’s daughter although I couldn’t confirm this. The stamp shows a portrait of the Governor, while the sheet depicts the first houses built in stone in the settlement at the Island of Soledad, or East Falkland according to Britain.

This pair was issued on the occasion of the 180^th anniversary of a decree dated June 10, 1829, that appointed Vernet, then Director of the settlement, as Civil and Military Commandant of the Islands and their adjacencies [17], therefore empowering him with a public title to complement his commercial concessions. In his own words, this was done to ‘[impose] on him the duty of carrying into effect the regulations relative to the Seal-fishery’ because ‘The depredations of Foreigners on the Coasts still went on, and there was no force in the Colony capable of restraining them, nor was there any public Officer to protest against them. This state of disorder obliged me to require the Government to adopt some measures.’ [18]

At his return to the islands, the new commandant began his efforts to enforce sealing regulations approved by the Argentine government. In one attempt, he seized two American vessels that, as he argued, had breached those norms in spite of previous warnings. Vernet sailed to Buenos Aires with one of the captains, to try them at court. Unfortunately, the U.S. Consul at the Argentine capital, George Slacum, who was inexperienced and, according to Peterson [19], ‘a tactless diplomatic novice’, regarded the seizure as an act of piracy, encouraging Silas Duncan, the captain of the USS Lexington, to sail to the islands. The Lexington was a warship just passing by the city. Duncan sailed supposedly to rescue a few American citizens who were stranded as a result of the seizures, but instead he took his time to perform other matters. Among these, to cause havoc on Vernet’s settlement and evict many settlers, with a share of violations to human dignity. [20]

Buenos Aires made Slacum responsible for the destruction and rejected his offices. U.S. President Jackson sent Francis Baylies to discuss the case, appointing him as Chargé d’Affairs. Baylies defended Duncan’s actions and demanded reparations from the seizure, only to be presented with the Argentine case for the islands, explained by Vernet in the aforementioned report of 1832. The Chargé d’Affairs returned the report, arguing that he was not entitled to discuss those kinds of matters, and promptly returned home, disregarding Argentine requests to continue talking. John Quincy Adams, who was former U.S. president at the time and a political opponent to Jackson, not being fond of Baylies whom he regarded as ‘one of the most talented and worthless men in New England’, summarizes the exchange in his memoirs: ‘Jackson, to appease him, gave [Baylies] as a second sop the office of Chargé d’Affaires at Buenos Ayres. He went there; stayed there not three months —just long enough to embroil his country in a senseless and wicked quarrel with the Government; and, without waiting for orders from his Government, demanded his passports and came home. Nothing but the imbecility of that South American abortion of a state saved him from indelible disgrace and this country from humiliation in that concern.’ [21]

These American reactions, including John Quincy Adams' words, are better understood if we consider Jackson's inclination towards 'gunboat diplomacy' as well as his 'spoils system', which meant that government jobs were assigned in reward for electorate services, no matter how unfit for the job the candidate was. These characteristics were heavily criticized by Jackson's opponents, which included previous president Adams.

Before departing, Baylies’ renamed Slacum as the American head diplomat in Argentina, but Buenos Aires once again did not accept his offices, arguing that he was a transgressor of justice taking refuge at the American residence. Thus, Slacum departed with Baylies. The U.S. did not officially appoint a replacement, and relations between these two countries remained severed for more than a decade.

In the meantime, Buenos Aires had appointed a new governor for the islands, who was sent there with some personnel on board clipper Sarandí, depicted in this 1977 stamp (Sc. 1146). They were commissioned to restore order and rebuild the garrison. The settlement had suffered, not just from destruction and eviction of some settlers, but from the uncertainty caused by the incident.

Despite those reconstruction efforts, the scene was set for a forceful action by Britain. We can speculate on several reasons for this. On the one hand, an invasion had turned to be more tolerable to the eyes of the world, due to the state of disarray in the settlement, particularly after the new governor was killed by some rebels in his crew. But another element was probably more important. However desirable the islands were, one of the deterrents to a high-handed act from the U.K. was the Monroe doctrine, which indicated that the US would respond to European attempts of conquest in the Americas. But the Lexington incident was a risk for American diplomacy, which presumably inclined her to accept British arguments based on a history of discovery, first landing and occupation that I will elaborate in the next post. Moreover, some commercial interests in the US had not liked Vernet’s determination to enforce the rule of law. The Commandant had justified them on the grounds of regulating fishing to preserve the population of seals, but some claimed they constituted an attempt to retain privileges unjustifiably. Among them, Greenhow, who writes, in a defense of the American position that was contemporary with the events [22]:

Had the Buenos Ayreans been content to settle on the islands, without seeking to deprive others of advantages which they had no means of appropriating to themselves, and which, by reason, justice, and the consent of all civilized nations, were common to all, it is more than probable that their rights thus exercised would have been tacitly recognized, and that their establishment might have become profitable to themselves, and beneficial to all other nations But their imprudent and rapacious conduct, in attempting to revive the unjust and obsolete prohibitions which Spain had been unable to enforce, drew down upon them the indignation of more powerful states, and subjected them to humiliations for which they have no claims to redress. [23]

The next post discusses the 1833 takeover and its interpretation from a legal point of view. Hopefully, the series will have a third post with a chronicle of the dispute from 1833 to 1982, and a fourth about the 1982 war. I may get hold of and publish, anytime soon, high-resolutions scans of some of the stamps showcased here. As always, comments are welcome.

[1] I believe the historical facts are pretty much agreed at an authoritative level, and that these blog entries tell that version, or at least they are compatible with it. I don’t mean to say that there are no discrepancies, but, at a learned level, these are mostly in the weight attributed to each argument, not so much on the historical events. Yet, there is a harder discourse in favor of the British position, that is not written in authoritative literature but in the English version of Wikipedia, as well as in a few texts that rank well on Google Search. Those articles generally use genuine references, which lead some readers to believe that they have the rigor of serious academic studies, but there is a manipulative selection of the facts mentioned, a fallacious logic in some of the reasoning derived from those facts, and a questionable choice of sources, frequently referencing each other instead of resorting to authoritative work.

I think this relates to the problems of direct democracy, akin to the system used in Wikipedia and Google Search rankings, compared to indirect democracy. These problems were explained by the founding fathers of the United States in the Federalist Papers. In the argumentative line that would lead to the preference for indirect democracy, Madison warned against the dangers of factions, which he defined as ‘a number of citizens, whether amounting to a majority or a minority of the whole, who are united and actuated by some common impulse of passion, or of interest, adverse to the rights of other citizens, or to the permanent and aggregate interests of the community.’

Despite not being organized as such, in this case the ‘faction’ would hypothetically be composed of islanders, and other English-speaking supporters of the British case, who are emotionally invested in the dispute, and probably outnumber those bilingual Argentinians, and other English-speaking sympathizers of the Argentine case, who are learned and passionate enough about the subject to sustain ‘edit wars’ with them on the English-language Wikipedia. The balance between these groups, or its lack thereof, is critical because they are much more motivated than neutral Wikipedia editors. Besides, the first group probably has higher influence in English-language websites than those in the second, therefore being able to place links to pieces that earn their sympathy, particularly those that are simple and emphatic though lacking in rigor, linking being crucial to rankings on Google Search.

As a result, the group imposes its beliefs in media that employs some sort of direct democracy, even with no bad faith involved. I would not expect anything better from the Spanish-language webspace, favoring the other side of the dispute. The bottom line is that Wikipedia and those kinds of webpages seldom provide proper summaries for a controversial subject like this. They should be taken with a healthy dose of critical thinking, comparing facts and conclusions with authoritative work. Unfortunately, it looks like the general public attributes summarization quality to them even for these kinds of matters; and it seems that, regrettably, some journalists do the same.

[2] Fitzpatrick, K.; “Seeking Peace in the Falklands”; U.N. Security Council, May 22, 1982, in Kirkpatrick., J. J.; Legitimacy and Force, Vol 2: National and International Dimensions; Transaction Books, NB, and Oxford, U.K.; 1988; p. 221

[3] Argentina had proclaimed its independence in 1816 and was formally recognized by Britain in 1823 and, with more precision, in 1825. It typically used the name ‘United Provinces of the River Plate’ at the time, though the names ‘Argentines’ and ‘Argentine Republic’ were valid since before its independence. During much of the 1820s, the nation suffered civil wars, as its regional leaders would not agree on a system of government. Yet, they did agree on Buenos Aires being responsible for the nation’s foreign policy during those turbulent years. So did foreign nations, most importantly Britain in virtue of the aforementioned recognition, which was signed during some of the worst moments of the civil war. Moreover, the national identity was always present in the minds of the local leaders, as evidenced by various treaties that they signed, with the exception of a short-lived secessionist attempt in Entre Rios. Some texts on the Internet challenge this historiography (see footnote 1) but this is not an issue at a learned level.

[4] The coasts of the nearby mainland were less viable for settling due to Amerindian attacks. Darwin comments on this in The Voyage of the Beagle, p. 174. However, Falkner argues that, considering the convenience of wood, water and soil, the mainland coast would have constituted a better place for a colony at the passage between the southern seas (cited by Fitzroy, p. 137). Moreover, Fitzroy comments (in Narrative of the Surveying Voyages of His Majesty's Ships Adventure and Beagle, vol. 2, p. 169) that some natives may have been well disposed towards a ‘white’ settlement in Patagonia.

[5] ‘A Nation accustomed to make the greatest sacrifices for obtaining and securing every thing that can be of interest to her trade—a Government which never resists that which is called for by a majority of its Subjects, and whose policy tends principally to the aggrandizement of its commerce—a Nation which had shown itself irritated to an extraordinary degree on being despoiled of Port Egmont [the British settlement on the islands in the 18th century], and which had not hesitated to expend, in a few months, nearly 20,000,000 of dollars in warlike preparations on that account—an opulent and enterprising mercantile Nation, which had so much occasion for that Place, as is proved by the numerous Vessels belonging to her, which, from that time, up to the present, have frequented the Islands, either to take in provisions, or for objects connected with the Fisheries—such a Nation, having just obtained pacifically, and without expense, the enjoyment of those advantages for ever, suddenly to abandon her Possessions, solely for the miserable saving of the expense of their support, when merely the produce of the Fisheries would more than repay the expenses of the Establishment—abandon them from motives of economy, without leaving even a Vessel, or a few men, notwithstanding her riches, her numerous Navy, and her excessive Population—abandon them in silence when she might have spoken openly, and it was so much her interest to do so! This, Excellent Sir, 1 can say, with confidence, is impossible. To render it credible, it would be necessary they should bring forward proofs and deeds as irrefragable as is this fact, that the English did entirely abandon the Malvinas.’ Vernet (see footnote 15), pp. 409–410.

[6] Pepper and Pascoe (see footnote 1) claim that Areguati was not named but that his appointment was only requested. To support this assertion, they cite a decree which does not resolve on his appointment, and a book that I didn’t have the chance to read. Yet, he could have been named by a posterior decree. I don't remember, from authoritative literature, any challenges to Areguati’s appointment, which was confirmed by at least Fitzroy in 1839, Greenhow in 1842, Gustafson, Hope and Peterson, plus, if snippets on Google Books don't mislead, by Boyson, Strange, Dolzer, Howgego, Hoffman and Gough too.

[7] It has been argued (see footnote 1) that many settlers were not Argentine, as if that would weaken the Argentine status of the settlement. But what is legally relevant is that the authorities were acting under Argentina, applying laws and legal instruments emanating from Buenos Aires, and the settlers consented to that rule. It is acceptable and normal that a nation welcomes foreign subjects to an otherwise deserted, or loosely populated, portion of its territory. Particularly when it is young and desires immigration, as it was the case with Argentina, more so for its insular and coastal territories considering that the local creole were not seafaring people. It does not imply any loss of sovereignty. Vattel writes: ‘When there is not this singular circumstance [of a nation deciding to keep a portion of her territory in desert and uncultivated form], it is equally agreeable to the dictates of humanity, and to the particular advantage of the state, to give those desert tracts to foreigners who are willing to clear the land and to render it valuable. The beneficence of the state thus turns to her own advantage; she acquires new subjects, and augments her riches and power. This is the practice in America; and, by this wise method, the English have carried their settlements in the new world to a degree of power which has considerably increased that of the nation. Thus, also, the king of Prussia endeavours to re-people his states laid waste by the calamities of former wars.’ Vattel, E. de; The Law of Nations; (1758); II.VII.87; Translation by Chitty, J.; Johnson & Co., PA

[8] Weddell, J.; A voyage towards the South Pole: performed in the years 1822-24 (1825); p.103–112. Jewitt was an American sailing under Argentine colors at the time. The nascent Argentine navy normally hired foreign captains because the local creoles were not seafaring people; a notorious example being an Irishman called William Brown, commemorated in the stamp on the left, who was her greatest naval hero at the war for independence. A few years later Greenhow²² wrote about Weddell’s narrative, that he ‘ridicules the whole proceeding; insinuating his belief, that Jewett had merely put into the harbor in order to obtain refreshments for his crew, and that the assumption of possession was chiefly intended for the purpose of securing an exclusive claim to the wreck of the French ship Uranie, which had a few months previous foundered at the entrance of Berkeley Sound.’ (p. 134) Wikipedia currently references a text by G. Pascoe and P. Pepper (see footnote 1) where the authors pick up on this theory by Weddell, and state that Jewitt did not receive orders to claim the islands at his departure from Buenos Aires, contradicting what other references state. Despite them claiming that there is ‘much evidence’, they offer no more support than an account of other business performed by Jewitt before landing on the islands, which would only imply a lack of urgency, and that his ship was in bad shape when he did, as asserted by Weddell, which only gives way to a suspicion. In any case, it would not be legally significant if Jewitt had not received those orders. In response to doubts about the authority of the government that (presumably) sent Jewitt, Gustafson argues, on page 22 of his book¹⁰, that ‘at the very least, Jewitt had publicly claimed possession in the name of Argentina, whose government could later confirm or deny his claim. The government would confirm Jewitt's claim.’ Let us bear in mind that commissioned sailors normally claimed islands, that they discovered, in the name of states that did not know about the islands at the time of their appointment.

[9] Fitzroy, in his Narrative . . ., vol 2 (see footnote 4), mentions Jewitt’s proclaim under the Argentine flag (p. 236), offering Weddell’s book as a reference, but he says that the act was unknown in Britain for many years and only noticed formally in 1829. However, it is known that this news was published in European newspapers. Besides, Weddell’s book was published in 1825 and, given his official position, he must have informed his superiors beforehand.

[10] Gustafson, L. S.; “Historical Rights”; The Sovereignty Dispute over the Falkland (Malvinas) Islands; Oxford University Press, Oxford, U.K.; 1988

[11] Hope, A. F. J.; “Sovereignty and Decolonization of the Malvinas (Falkland) Islands”; Boston College International and Comparative Law Review; Vol. 6, Issue 2, Art. 3; (1983); pp. 413–414

[12] ‘Upon acquiring independence, a former colony 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. Spain treated the islands as part of the Vice-Royalty of Buenos Aires, and did not occupy them [after the revolution]. Moreover, the short time that elapsed before Argentina took control of the islands does not seem to warrant the conclusion that Argentina was derelict, thereby transforming the territory into a res nullius. International law has traditionally tolerated temporary lapses in the control of central authorities over peripheral territories caused by internal disruptions.’ Reisman, W. M.; “The Struggle for The Falklands”; Faculty Scholarship Series; Yale Law School, New Haven, CT; 1983; p. 303. Not to be confused with Goebel’s book of the same name. It has been argued (see footnote 1) that, under uti possidetis juris, Chile or Paraguay would be as entitled as Argentina to the islands, because they also emerged from the Spanish colony. However, given the islands' geographical proximity to Argentina, it would be unnatural to assign them to those other nations, and a risk of war. Vernet makes this point in his 1832 report. Presumably due to this reasoning, those nations did not claim them.

[13] Gustafson, p. 22

[14] It is said (see footnote 1) that Vernet had gotten permission from the UK to build his colony, but the only support that I found for this assertion is that the British Vice-Consul in Buenos Aires may have countersigned, on Vernet's request, the land grant that the latter obtained from Buenos Aires in 1828. I could not verify this fact, neither I found comments about it in authoritative literature, but if the Vice-Consul did in fact countersign, it would not imply that Vernet, or the Consulate, understood that the UK was entitled to decide on such grants. Actually, the opposite could be interpreted, because countersigning means validating a document, although they may have only been confirming its authenticity. It was also suggested that Vernet was considering that his colony may fall into British hands, and even welcoming it. Again, that would not mean that he attributed rights to Britain, because he may have been anticipating a cession (sale) from Argentina, or a high-handed act from the UK. If it was genuine, a British preference of his part would be understandable, given that Britain commanded the world’s most powerful navy, but in no way it undermines his acts in support of the Argentine case, nor it contradicts the defense of Argentine rights that he wrote in 1832 (see footnote 17).

[15] Vernet, L.; Report of the Political and Military Commandant of Malvinas to the Chargé d’Affairs of the United States, 10^th August 1832; in Great Britain. Foreign and Commonwealth Office; British and Foreign State Papers, Vol. 20, 1832–1833; James Ridgway and Sons, Picadilly, U.K.; pp. 369–436

[16] Ellms, C.; The Voice of Adventure: Robinson Crusoe’s Own Book; (1843); NY

[17] In other contemporary documents (e.g., footnote 15), the state and Vernet refer to his title indistinctively as ‘Civic and Military Commandant’ or ‘Civic and Military Governor’, and so do modern references. I doubt the choice makes any difference in relation to the dispute.

[18] Vernet, p. 380

[19] Peterson, H. F.; Argentina and the United States, 1810–1960; University Publishers, State University of New York, NY; 1964; p. 104. Click here for a preview.

[20] FitzRoy writes, in pages 271–272 of his book, 'I went to Port Louis, but was indeed disappointed. Instead of the cheerful little village I once anticipated finding—a few half-ruined stone cottages; some straggling huts built of turf; two or three stove boats; some broken ground where gardens had been, and where a few cabbages or potatoes still grew; some sheep and goats; a few long-legged pigs; some horses and cows; with here and there a miserable-looking human being,—were scattered over the foreground of a view which had dark clouds, ragged-topped hills, and a wild waste of moorland to fill up the distance. “How is this?” said I, in astonishment, to Mr. Brisbane; “I thought Mr. Vernet’s colony was a thriving and happy settlement. Where are the inhabitants? The place seems deserted as well as ruined.” “Indeed, Sir, it was flourishing,” said he, “but the Lexington ruined it: Captain Duncan’s men did such harm to the houses and gardens. I was myself treated as a pirate—rowed stern foremost on board the Lexington—abused on her quarter-deck most violently by Captain Duncan—treated by him more like a wild beast than a human being—and from that time guarded as a felon, until I was released by order of Commodore Rogers.” “But,” I said, “where are the rest of the settlers? I see but half a dozen, of whom two are old black women; where are the gauchos who kill the cattle?” “Sir, they are all in the country. They have been so much alarmed by what has occurred, and they dread the appearance of a ship of war so much, that they keep out of the way till they know what she is going to do.” I afterwards interrogated an old German, while Brisbane was out of sight, and after him a young native of Buenos Ayres, who both corroborated Brisbane’s account.'

[21] Adams, J. Q.; Memoirs of John Quincy Adams,: Comprising Portions of His Diary from 1795 to 1848, Vol. 9; Lippincot & Co., PA, p.447; 1876. Evidently, the incapability of Argentina, alleged expressively by Adams, refers to her authorities not being able to pursue her case further, exposing Baylies and the U.S. in the process. There is no reason to believe that Baylies was under risk of ‘indelible disgrace’ from which he could have been saved by Argentina’s defense of Vernet. As I understand it, Adams was expressing some support to the Argentine position in the Lexington incident, despite the harsh language he used. Additionally, Goebel (cited by Hope, p. 415) mentions a salvage action for the seal skins seized by Vernet, presented to the Circuit Court of Connecticut, that failed because the court considered that the islands were under the authority of another state, which was Buenos Aires according to him: ‘Captain Duncan could have no right, without express' directions from his government, to enter into the territorial jurisdiction of a country at peace with the United States, and forcibly seize upon the property found there and claimed by citizens of the United States.’ Davison v. Seal-Skins, 7 F. Cas. 192, 196 (C.C.D. Conn. 1835) (No. 3661). This contradicted Baylies' defense of Duncan when he argued that the islands were res nullius.

[22] Greenhow, R.; “The Falkland Islands”; Hunt’s Merchants’ Magazine, vol. 6 (1842); pp. 104–151. In his defense to Slacum’s offices, Greenhow claimed that Buenos Aires expressed too late that Vernet acted under official orders, only after the Lexington had sailed, and that the fishing regulations were unjustified. He also minimizes the damage done by Duncan and his crew, suggesting that British accounts exaggerate them because of an anti-American sentiment. Goebel, who examined the log of the Lexington, writes ‘It is curious that there is no notice of any of these transactions in the log-book of the Lexington. Perhaps Duncan was a little ashamed of what he had done, or perhaps he feared the effect his actions would have upon his government.’ (Goebel, The Struggle for the Falklands, footnote 20, pp. 444–45, cited by Hope, footnote 60, p. 415)

[23] Greenhow, p. 150

A Tête-Bêche Pair with a Design by Konecsni György

2009-06-06T04:22:00.000-03:00

Tête-bêche is a French expression used in philately, meaning an unseparated pair of postage stamps printed in an upside-down relation to one another, either vertically or horizontally. They are produced deliberately, for the purpose of collecting, or accidentally. The following picture shows an Hungarian tête-bêche pair issued in 1945. It is mentioned in the Scott and Michel catalogs with not a high value, so I believe it to be a deliberate production. Scott number is 716 for the regular stamp, Michel is 828 with a "K" suffix for the tête-bêche pair.

I find this stamp to be interesting, not just for its curious printing arrangement, but also because of the design and its creator, the great Hungarian poster artist Konecsni György (1908-1970). You can click on the image to see it in higher resolution.

Konecsni was a prominent figure in Hungarian visual arts. His first success was with tourism posters, in the late 1920s through the 1930s, and later with political and commercial ones. He also designed several Hungarian stamps, issued from 1939 to 1950. His work is characterized by the significant amount of emotional content transmitted through narration, symbols and colors.

According to Marta James Aulich in her book, Political posters in Central and Eastern Europe, 1945-95; Konecsni, as well as other eastern-European visual artists who worked on governmental political posters, stamped a nostalgic element in his work that was disliked by the communist authorities, who were looking for less-ambiguous messages focused on the promise of a bright, socialist future.

I wonder if you share my view, but I see that nostalgia in this stamp. The theme is Reconstruction, aimed at encouraging the citizens of Budapest to repair the aftermaths of World War II in their city. Or at least that was the official allegation. We can see a worker with a hammer and a broken chain, which are typical Marxist propaganda themes. Isn't it courious that he is looking straight to the left, which symbolizes the past? This worker is reparing (I guess) a stone embossed with the coat of arms of Budapest. At the back, we see the the beautiful Chain Bridge, which needed to be repaired after the war. This bridge is one of the landmarks of this remarkable city. To the right we find it in good state, but in a sort-of-dreamy image.

In October, 2008, two stamps were issued to conmemorate the centenary of Konecsni's birth. These are shown below; the image was borrowed from Konecsni György's National History Museum's website in Kiskunmajsa (click here for an automatic English translation of their homepage). They picture Christmas themes by the visual artist.

For more about Hungarian philately you can visit the Society for Hungarian Philately's website. You can also read about and view Hungarian designs by visiting "Designed in Hungary" in designterminal.hu and "Old Hungarian Posters" in The Blog of Hungary. Moreover, if you are interested in contemporary art from the former "Eastern Bloc", you might want to check East Art Map: Contemporary Art and Eastern Europe and its companion website.

Back to tête-bêches. Early accidental cases were due to single cliches being placed upside down on the printing plates. Such was the case with this 1858 pair from Uruguay, for example. More recent instances are due to sheets printed for booklets being cut wrongly; or mistakenly sold without cutting, as it happened with this large multiple of Great Britain machins. Further examples of tête-bêche varieties are shown here; in this case they correspond to Swiss definitives and I don't know if they were accidental or not.

Comments are, as always, very welcome, and that includes corrections. :)

Some Romanian Semi-Postal Plate Varieties

2009-05-08T02:07:00.000-03:00

Plate varieties are a kind of minor variety due to imperfections in the printing plates, producing one or several stamps that are different from the rest in their sheet. Also called constant varieties, they were not too rare when stamps were printed with the engraving (a.k.a. Intaglio) method, which was commonly used in past times. One way to hunt for plate varieties involves inspecting several full sheets of the same stamp, searching for marks present in some, but not all, of the specimens, that repeat exactly in the same positions in the rest of the sheets, or at least in some of them.

I was able to do that with several copies of full sheets of Romanian semi-postal stamps from World-War-2 times. One example is the elegantly-designed stamp shown below, which was issued in 1941 marking the 50th anniversary of the present Central University Library of Bucharest.

If you zoom in the picture (by clicking on it), you will notice that, in the central specimen, LEI (i.e., the Romanian currency) is spelled as tEI. The exact same imperfection is present in all the sheets that I own, in only one stamp of the sheet of 100, at the 29th position. Also with those that don't have the CHISINAU overprint. By the way, that overprint celebrates the occupation of the city of Kishinev, now capital of the Moldovan republic, by the Romanian army acting as part of the Axis forces.

This minor variety is due, probably, to a crack or some other kind of plate flaw. The mint personnel might have been aware of it but didn't consider a restoration or replacement of plates to be justified, given its costs. The result is that many of these stamps, but not more than 1 in every 100 that were printed, have this "spelling" mistake. According to Michel Katalog, 70,000 of these stamps were printed with no overprint (Michel #687, Scott B150) and another 70,000 overprinted, half of which with the CHISINAU legend (Michel #692 II, Scott B160) and the other half (Michel #692 I, Scott B155) celebrating the taking of another historically-disputed city the Romanians called Cernăuţi (now Chernivtsi, Ukraine). Therefore, no more than 700, 350 and 350 of the minor varieties were printed, which are pretty few (as long as there are no reprints unreported by Michel).

In some cases, such a variety sparks the interest of collectors. If that were the case, they could have some value, due to their scarcity. The value of each specimen of the regular issues, in very fine mint never-hinged condition, was estimated, by Michel (2004), at 2.50 euros (no overprint) and 3.50 (overprinted), and by Scott (2008) at 1.10 and 1.50 dollars respectively. If you have any info about this variety or its estimated value, please comment! The same request applies to the plate varieties presented below. :)

The next stamp, issued in 1942 and pictured on the right, shows the statue of Miron Costin, an author, historian and political figure from the 17th century. It is dedicated to the occupation of another disputed region in Moldavia, called Transnistria. It is worth mentioning that, in spite of the innocence and cultural profile of these stamps, these occupations were followed by ill-treatment and murdering of locals, particularly Roma people and Jews, like in the Odessa massacre. At the time, Romania was under Ion Antonescu's fascist rule.

The plate flaw in this case can be seen by comparing the two specimens shown (Michel #754, Scott #B194). The one on the right has a spot in front of the statue's face, with the shape of a torus (or donut). As in the previous case, this imperfection is repeated in the other sheets in my collection, always at the last, 50th postion (these are 50-stamp sheets).

It's fun when meaning can be attributed to these random flaws. Is it ok if we say that the variety consists of a bug flying in front of Costin? :) The value of each specimen of the regular issues, in very fine mint never-hinged condition, was estimated by Michel (2004) at 2.50 euros and by Scott (2008) at 1.25 dollars. According to Michel, 50,000 were printed, hence only as many as 1000 of the minor variety were created.

The last example has less meaning (it is not a spelling mistake nor it resembles a bug) but I find it interesting from a stamp-production point of view. It is a variety of another stamp in the same Transnistria series, namely Michel #753, Scott #B193. If you look closely at the image below (might need to click on it), you will notice that there is a shadow below Costin's feather pen, but only on the specimens on the left. All the sheets I have, present that shadow in every stamp on the 3rd and 8th column. The shape is the same, although the intensity varies a little. But it is normal, with this manufacturing process, for the amount of ink to differ from stamp to stamp.

The difference with the previous cases is that many of the stamps in this sheet share the imperfection. How can that be? The reason can be found in the engraving process. The sheets were printed from plates that were created from a master die picturing one stamp. To transfer this single design into the 50-stamp plate, a transfer roll was used. With the Intaglio method, it was common to put more than one engraving of the master die in the transfer roll, to save time. For this plate, the flaw is evidence that a transfer roll with 5 impressions was used, to engrave the plate half a row at a time. The impression in the middle of the roll must have had some foreign material stuck on it, or a different sort of flaw, that produced this mark on every stamp in the middle column of each half of the plate (namely, the 3rd and 8th columns).

In philately, this is called a primary flaw, to differentiate it from the previous kind, that occurred in the plates, termed secondary or tertiary flaws, depending on the number of steps in the process.

I guess that, if I owned one specimen of the last stamp's minor variety, I would never have realized that the shadow was not an intentional feature of the design. If this stamp is in your collection and you haven't checked yet, find out if it is a specimen of this variety, you might have overlooked it. Unfortunately, this one is not as scarce as the previous ones, because 10 stamps in each of sheet of 50 share the flaw, although maybe not all sheets were printed with the same plates.

Notice that I avoid using the term error here, as it is usually reserved for more flagrant aberrations, that have higher philatelic value as long as they are constant (i.e., not a one-specimen printing accident but a repeated mistake), such as in the famous U.S. Inverted Jenny that sells for hundreds of thousands of dollars each, or more. In contrast to constant errors, the value of minor varieties based on plate flaws is disputed. Collecting based on such varieties is frequently termed flyspeck philately, sometimes with a negative connotation.

Other Romanian plate flaws are published in romanianstamps.com . For more about the country's history through its stamps, visit Romania, as Shown by its Stamps.

Please comment! There's surely a lot to add and correct from what I wrote. This varieties are probably reported in specialized, Romanian catalogs, which I don't have access to. If you do, I would appreciate receiving some info. Moreover, what do you think about 'flyspeck' philately? Have you searched for these rarities in your collection?

This happens to be the first posting in this blog, I hope it turns out to be the start of something fun and interesting for all of us. That depends, in great measure, on your commentary. By the way, among the world stamps I would like to exhibit, I have more material from Romania.

Take care and have fun!
Andy