The High Price of Principle

By John Kohan

A 19th century life-style persists as British build new defenses

The distant thundering explosions are vaguely reminiscent of the noise that kept residents on edge two years ago as British troops advanced across the barren hills to retake the Falkland Islands from Argentina. But these are not the sounds of war. Since last fall almost 700 men have been working up to 14 hours a day blasting through rock at Mount Pleasant, a bleak stretch of high ground 25 miles southwest of Port Stanley, the capital. They are building a new British military base with an 8,500-ft. runway that will be able to accommodate large military aircraft.

The new airstrip will serve as visible evidence of Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher's determination to retain the windswept South Atlantic archipelago, which is 8,000 miles from Britain and only 400 miles from Argentina. When the base is completed next year, Royal Air Force TriStar jets will be able to reach the Falklands from Ascension Island, a British possession in the Atlantic midway between Britain and the Falklands, in 8 1/2 hours. Now the quickest flight from Ascension is a twelve-hour trip in turboprop C-130 Hercules cargo aircraft that have to be refueled in midair. More important, the new runway will allow the rapid deployment of British troops in an emergency. Although the democratically elected government of Argentine President Raul Alfonsin has replaced the military regime that invaded the Falklands in 1982, the British--and especially the Falklanders--remain suspicious of Argentine intentions. Says Sir Rex Hunt, who as civil commissioner is in effect governor of the islands: "I think Alfonsin is an honorable man. He says the invasion was 'an illegitimate act by an illegal government in a just cause.' He is right on the first two counts. He should be convinced that he is wrong on the third."

In the weeks following the end of the war, islanders complained about the exhaust-spewing military trucks that were taking parking spaces on Ross Road, the capital's main street. Residents who had to billet the soldiers, sleeping as many as four to a room, only half jokingly expressed fears for the women. Now the troops live in three large "coastels," self-contained floating barracks, each housing up to 930 men. The facilities have mess halls, gymnasiums and a squash court; they purify their own water and generate their own electricity. Says Major General Keith Spacie, commander of the 4,000-to 5,000-man British force: "Port Stanley is not a garrison town. We have got off the Falklanders' backs so they can lead as normal a life as possible."

When the troops began to call the townsfolk "Bennies" (after a good-natured but dim-witted character on a popular British soap opera), the islanders picked up the name, which they now use more often than the time-honored "Kelpers" (after the seaweed that they once harvested). Locals, in turn, call the British soldiers "Whennies" because of their tendency to go on at boring length about the time "when I was in Belfast" or "when I was on Cyprus." Although occasional fistfights break out on Saturday nights in Port Stanley's pubs, an officer notes that "relations with the local population are a lot worse in some British towns I can think of."

The British presence has hardly altered the islands' 19th century lifestyle. Sheep farmers, the economic backbone of the islands, tend their flocks on the treeless hills, oblivious to the hubbub in Port Stanley. Says Jim Clements' secretary of the sheep-owners association: "If we didn't hear radios and see aircraft overhead, we wouldn't know the military is here." The civilian population has grown by only 4% since the war, to about 1,870.

Except for a surge in the sale of postage stamps to collectors, the islands' economy is stagnant. Shopkeepers complain that, though they sell the troops quite a few Hong Kong-made mugs, flags and ashtrays, they made far more money from the British goods they once peddled to Argentine tourists. The Standard Chartered Bank has opened an office on Ross Road, but the capital still has no barber shop, laundry or auto-repair garage.

Development of the islands is hampered by the "Falklands factor," the eight weeks that it takes for supplies to be ordered and to arrive from Britain. A memorial in honor of the 277 British soldiers who died in the Falklands war remains unfinished because polished stones were damaged en route. But distance is not the only excuse. Local officials have yet to set up an agency to allocate the nearly $44 million from Parliament for the development of the islands. Half of the 54 three-bedroom prefabricated houses that were built at a cost of $187,000 each to relieve the shortage of homes in Port Stanley stand empty because it will take as long as six months to hook them up to drains and water. Says the project's British manager: "You're up against a wall with the bureaucracy here. If you succeed, you're an embarrassment. If you fail, it's 'We told you so.' "

Although Britain and Argentina have cautiously begun to explore the possibility of resuming diplomatic ties and trade, the Thatcher government insists that the islands' sovereignty will never be discussed. The Falklanders, who used to be able to travel to Argentina to buy supplies or obtain health care, take their isolation in stride, even if it means a continuing decline in their living standard. For British taxpayers, however, the price remains high. Defense of the islands is now costing $874 million a year, or $467,000 an islander. --By John Kohan. Reported by Gavin Scott/Port Stanley

With reporting by Gavin Scott