In thrall to a “noble crusade”
Why British prime ministers over the past four decades have sought to replicate Margaret Thatcher’s “Falklands moment”
O n 26 July 1982, the British government held a memorial service at St Paul’s Cathedral for the families of servicemen who had died in the Falklands War. It had not been a straightforward event to organise. The government was focused firmly on celebrating victory, affirming to the families that their loved one’s sacrifice had been worthwhile. The church, however, wanted to express regret not just for the 255 British troops who had died in uniform but for the war as a whole. For the church, the service was a chance to signify a sense of reconciliation with Argentina.
Unsurprisingly, the service ended up being a compromise. Although no sermons were read in Spanish, as the dean had wanted, the archbishop of Canterbury, Robert Runcie (who had served in Normandy during the Second World War), praised the courage of the British Task Force, described war as “a sign of human failure”, and reminded his congregation to pray for both the British and Argentine dead. “The boss is absolutely livid,” Denis Thatcher was quoted as telling members of the 2nd Battalion, Parachute Regiment afterwards.
At the time, the Falklands War signified a moment of triumph in a period when Britain was overshadowed by a toxic mix of economic failure, high unemployment and a sense of permanent “decline”.
Victory in the south Atlantic on 14 June demonstrated that Britain still had the capacity to bring a war to an emphatic conclusion. Just as significantly, it transformed Margaret Thatcher’s premiership, turning her into a global celebrity. Her critics becalmed, she now revelled in her newfound reputation as a decisive leader.
Newly emboldened, she pushed forward with what came to be known as “Thatcherism”. Constantly citing “the Falklands spirit”, she tackled the miners, savaged the Greater London Council and took on the IRA.
Yet, as the St Paul’s ceremony on 26 July highlights, not everyone shared her sense of achievement. The Falklands Play, a drama commissioned by the BBC in 1983 (starring Patricia Hodge as Margaret Thatcher) was shelved due to its pro-Thatcher stance and allegedly jingoistic tone. A public row over press bias and censorship ensued. It was broadcast on BBC Four and BBC Radio 4 on the 20th anniversary of the war in 2002, with reviews remarking that Thatcher was portrayed as “a great heroic figure”.
Conflicts of choice
“The significance of the Falklands War was enormous, both for Britain’s self-confidence and for our standing in the world,” wrote Margaret Thatcher in her 1993 book
The Downing Street Years. “Since the Suez fiasco in 1956, British foreign policy had been one long retreat. Victory in the Falklands changed that.”
There’s little doubt that the war ended a long period of post-imperial decline in British foreign policy. Instead of the conflict being an expression of what Britain was
(a nation still trading on the glories of the Second World War 37 years earlier), it became the reference point of what Britain was to be. Thatcher’s successors in 10 Downing Street were to become self-styled globalists, ready to
undertake so-called wars of choice. The likes of Tony Blair and David Cameron would send British troops to fight overseas, supported by a defence budget that covered a “Falklands eventuality”.
Then there’s the “Falklands Moment”. Every prime minister since Margaret Thatcher has been judged by one of these. In fact, it could be argued that Boris Johnson has been confronted by two: the Covid-19 pandemic and the Russian-Ukrainian War.
The iconic Yomper
Across Britain, the Falklands War triggered a surge of patriotism – fanned by a popular press whose coverage of the conflict (most notably following the sinking of the Belgrano) shaded, some argued, into ugly triumphalism. For two months, the war was the single main news story in the British media. Newspapers regularly devoted whole sections to the conflict.
Images were central to communicating an allegiance to Britain’s cause, often by emphasising the heroism and resilience of British troops. The most iconic of these was the “Yomper” (shown left) – a spontaneous photograph of 24-year-old Corporal Peter Robinson with a Union Jack in his backpack as the Royal Marines “yomped” along Moody Brook track towards Stanley in June 1982. The image inspired a statue, unveiled by Margaret Thatcher on the war’s 10th anniversary in July 1992, which stands outside the entrance of the Royal Marines Museum in Portsmouth. Facing forward and staring determinedly into the distance, the Yomper symbolises determination and courage in wartime; both of the nation and of the individual combatant.
Like Dunkirk and the Blitz, the Falklands War has become a cultural touchstone in the British media; a form of shorthand to exhort the population to retain faith in the nation and show unity in the face of foreign (or domestic) threats.
This was particularly evident during the war’s 30th anniversary commemorations in 2012. At a time when Argentina was ratcheting up its sovereignty claims on the islands, Britain was in the grips of austerity and its armed forces embroiled in conflict in the Middle East, the memory of the Falklands’ “noble crusade” served to restore confidence in the nation’s civil and military institutions.
Ten years later, and the landscape is equally uncertain. Britain is experiencing fresh waves of economic turbulence and is wracked by growing political and cultural divisions – all while attempting to come to terms with Russia’s aggression against Ukraine. Set against this backdrop, commemorations of the Falklands War this year will remain an important reference point for those seeking to foster national cohesion and regenerate a sense of national pride in Britain.
Matthew C Benwell is senior lecturer in human geography at Newcastle University, Catriona Pennell is professor of modern history and memory studies at the University of Exeter and Alasdair Pinkerton is a reader in geopolitics at Royal Holloway, University of London