A Practical Guide to Detect Anglophilia in Argentina

Anglophilia: A Practical Guide to Detecting It

 

Demalvinisation refers to the systematic process of minimising, silencing, or discrediting Argentina’s narrative, memory, or national sentiment around the Falklands/Malvinas War and its claim to the islands—particularly after 1982.

After the Battle for the Malvinas, the United Kingdom faced the challenge of constructing an "exportable" doctrine—tailored specifically for Argentina and designed to penetrate the Argentine psyche in order to diminish any sense of national pride that might once again ignite the powerful will to resist, as was shown in 1982.

That experience became the UK's greatest military disaster since the Second World War. London, aware that there can be no defence without first possessing the determination and will to claim what Argentinians know to be rightfully theirs—as demonstrated in the Malvinas—found that the most effective long-term strategy was to suppress Argentina’s will and determination. To that end, they set about engaging Argentine organisations, public figures, and politicians who would actively work to erode national self-esteem while simultaneously convincing the public that the "Malvinas issue" wasn’t so serious or important as to hinder other potential areas of development or cooperation with the UK.

The processes of demalvinisation and the dismantling of Argentina’s Armed Forces were just the tip of the iceberg, the visible portion of a much broader ideological infrastructure that was encouraged, promoted, and even financed by the United Kingdom. Often left out of view are the legislators, businessmen, and high-ranking military officers who silently (and increasingly less so) make up this powerful structure, whose brain operates both from across the Atlantic and from within Argentina itself.

A major triumph of this British strategy—promoted in Argentina by many compatriots—has been the continual downplaying of the Malvinas Conflict, and the construction of a language that, passively and almost unconsciously, has been absorbed by anglophile citizens who have become repeaters of narratives crafted by the British establishment.

Today, we offer a practical guide for recognising an anglophile—whether they are an active participant in that British-built skeleton operating in Argentina, or simply a citizen who dreams of belonging to the "Anglo world" due to national self-esteem issues (proof, if any were needed, that the British plan worked) or a disconnection from their own national identity.

An anglophile, be they civilian, military, or political, is easily identified because, lacking authentic arguments, they always resort to the same language as their "brothers", to favour, promote, and defend British interests in Argentina. Here are some of their most common expressions:

🇬🇧 “The war was a desperate manoeuvre by the Military Junta. A meaningless war.”
(Denies the historical background, legal precedents, and international law supporting Argentina’s sovereignty claim.)

🇬🇧 “The only way to recover the Malvinas is through peaceful means.”
(In practice, advocates for military dismantling, deliberately ignoring the concept of deterrence. This sort of anglophile would probably consider San Martín merely a murderer for taking up arms in the cause of independence.)

🇬🇧 “We must cooperate with the British in all other areas without jeopardising the sovereignty issue.”
(A dangerous anglophile: effectively proposes postponing sovereignty discussions—when they should be a top priority—while encouraging us to “burn through” tools of pressure and cooperation that could strengthen our negotiation stance.)

🇬🇧 “It’s impossible to manufacture national weapons systems—it would take 20 years to develop deterrent technology.”
(A mentally colonised anglophile relying on arguments from the 1990s. Well, over 30 years have passed and there’s still been no will to produce anything. The Cóndor II missile took under a decade from design to launch readiness. This kind of anglophile seeks to turn national defence development into a utopia in order to maintain dependency.)

🇬🇧 “The Malvinas would be ours today if we hadn’t started the war in 1982.”
(A malicious anglophile who falsely blames Argentina for starting the war and ignores the UK’s original aggression in 1833. This specimen denies Argentina’s right to legitimate self-defence under international law.)

🇬🇧 “We’ll recover the Malvinas when we convince the kelpers (Falklanders) to want to be Argentinian.”
(A servile anglophile: not only accepts British occupation, but insists we must “seduce” a population implanted by force—granting them a right to self-determination they do not possess. The kelpers have no legitimate say, being a population settled by an occupying power.)

🇬🇧 “We’ll recover the Malvinas when it becomes too costly for the UK to maintain their defence.”
(A sophisticated neo-anglophile: this logic delays urgent action, ignoring that no cost in history has ever deterred the UK from its imperial foothold. In 1982, during a major economic crisis, Britain still dispatched a fleet over 13,000 km. A statement of naïveté or outright irresponsibility.)

🇬🇧 “The Malvinas war was pointless.”
(One of the most harmful kinds of anglophiles. This argument was central to demalvinisation and has driven many veterans to take their own lives, believing their fight was meaningless. This type denies all historical, legal, and international support for Argentina’s claim, and supports dismantling the Armed Forces by suggesting they are unnecessary. Also ignores the basic principles of Defence and deterrence.)

🇬🇧 “There are no longer any conflict hypotheses.”
(A foolish anglophile: It’s not a hypothesis—there is a conflict. An Argentine province remains under foreign occupation, yet this mantra helps pave the way for disarmament, perfectly aligned with British interests.)

Know other anglophile expressions we missed? Let us know in the comments.

Text: Eric Torrado – Malvinas en la Mira

Operation Fingent: The United Kingdom “sells” radar to Chile to spy on Argentine flights

Operation Fingent: the radar the British sold to Chile to spy on Argentine movements during the Malvinas War

In a rushed move, Great Britain devised plans to detect the aircraft taking off from Argentina’s mainland air bases — a reminder of how, even in wartime, they were willing to involve neighbouring countries to monitor and undermine Argentine efforts in defending the Malvinas.

Based on Mariano P. Sciaroni || Infobae





As the British fleet set sail toward the Malvinas, the British high command was well aware it would face a serious problem if confronted by Argentina’s Air Force and Naval Aviation. At that time, the Royal Navy was designed to operate in the North Atlantic, under the protection of aerial cover and early warning systems provided both by the British Royal Air Force (RAF) and the U.S. Navy.

Operating outside that zone, with only the limited number of carrier-based aircraft aboard the Invincible and Hermes, the British would lack the advance warning needed to ready their missiles and position interceptors to counter any aerial threat.

Without such anticipation, every Argentine attack would effectively become a surprise, detected only when it was already mere miles from its target — something the British simply could not afford.

In a scramble, they rushed to design plans to detect the aircraft taking off from Argentina’s mainland air bases. The core idea was that no plane should be able to lift off from Argentine soil without being noticed, giving the British fleet at least 45 minutes’ warning of an incoming airstrike — just enough time to call a “Yellow Alert” for planes in the air and prepare for bombs or missiles.

First, special forces (possibly the famed Special Air Service) would be deployed on the continent to report movements at the Río Grande, Río Gallegos, and Comodoro Rivadavia bases (this fell under the so-called “Operation Shutter”; the commandos were only present from late May to early June, and it remains a mystery how they got there or how they left, as details on the matter are still classified).



Naval Station “Almirante Hermes Quijada” in Río Grande, Tierra del Fuego, during the war

They also considered that nuclear submarines would approach the Argentine coast to report on aerial movements, detecting them either through their periscopes or with electronic surveillance equipment.

Finally, arrangements were made with the “friendly” Chilean Air Force, whose Thomson-CSF radar located near Punta Arenas would provide alerts about takeoffs from Ushuaia, Río Grande, and Río Gallegos.

However, there remained a large gap: the entire province of Chubut and the Comodoro Rivadavia base were beyond radar coverage. That was a serious problem.

Luckily for the British, Wing Commander Sidney Edwards, the Royal Air Force’s delegate in Chile, had already secured from General Fernando Matthei, commander of the Chilean Air Force, a “blank check” to move forward in solving such inconveniences.

But the Chileans had no radar stationed there — nor did they have a mobile radar system.

To overcome this, the British had to urgently sell them a radar. The operation was quickly agreed upon: the price was set at under one British pound (and, for the same token, they also received six Hawker Hunter fighter jets, three Canberra bombers, and anti-aircraft missiles). An entire air force for less than 60 Argentine pesos at today’s exchange rate — a bargain, to put it mildly.

With political approval secured, the military phase began moving. Thus, the so-called “Operation Fingent” was designed and took shape. It was decided that the radar to be transferred (or rather, sold) would be a Marconi S259 transportable unit, part of the British Royal Air Force’s Mobile Reserve.


A S259 radar operating at RAF Saxa Vord in the 70s in the Shetland Islands, North Scotland. Possibly this very same radar has been sold to Chile in 1982,

The radar would be accompanied by a so-called “sales team” — which, in reality, was nothing more than British Royal Air Force military personnel dressed in civilian clothes, tasked with operating the radar and training the supposed new “owners.”

This “sales team” was made up of four officers and seven non-commissioned officers, who would carry no weapons and would formally be working under the Chilean armed forces. They were instructed to buy warm civilian clothing and ensure their passports were in order. They were also informed that their mission was absolutely secret and that they were to behave at all times as civilian contractors.

They were forbidden from speaking about this matter to anyone — neither in Great Britain nor in Chile.

The deployment location was ultimately decided by General Matthei: it would be set up in Balmaceda, positioned at the latitude of Comodoro Rivadavia, and would be protected by the Chilean Army. A strategic spot, ideal for monitoring Argentine movements.

With the mission in place, on May 5, 1982, a Boeing 747 from the Flying Tigers airline departed RAF Brize Norton (not far from London), loaded with the radar equipment and personnel, heading for Santiago de Chile. The route included a stop in San Juan, Puerto Rico, making it a long journey.

Upon landing, a military transport plane — a C-130 Hercules — appeared to carry them to their final destination. The issue was that this aircraft bore camouflage very similar to British military planes, and painted on its fuselage were the words FUERZA AREA (not AÉREA) DE CHILE — in short, it was a British plane.

A British plane, carrying British military personnel and British radar, to just a few kilometers from the Argentine border.

A Chilean C-130 Hercules and another from the British Royal Air Force (RAF) wait on the tarmac, photographed from an RAF VC-10. The photo was taken on April 24, 1982, on Easter Island (Chile).

Soon after, the radar reached its final destination and was swiftly installed. The British put it to good use, while Chilean troops guarded the area to prevent any issues.

The information gathered by the radar was securely transmitted to the headquarters of the Chilean Air Force’s intelligence service. From there, a special British team operating a satellite communication system would relay the data to their fleet.

It was a well-oiled system that ultimately worked very effectively — and, as mentioned earlier, it was complemented by reports from ground commandos, another radar, and finally the nuclear submarines near the coast (for example, the submarine HMS Valiant, operating near Río Grande, alone provided 300 alerts of aircraft in the air).

When it was all over, as General Matthei later explained, “we kept the radars, the missiles, and the planes, and they were satisfied because they received the information they needed on time. The deal was over, and Sidney Edwards was dismissed the next day.”

“Argentina has its back well covered,” said Sergio Onofre Jarpa, Chile’s ambassador in Buenos Aires, not long before. A peculiar statement, considering that right in the middle of Argentina’s back, a British radar was operating — helping foreign forces monitor and strike at Argentine defenses in the Malvinas.