Time - Man of the Year/Time_Man_of_the_Year_Compact_Publishing_3YX-Disc-1_Compact_Publishing_1993.iso/moy/062292/06229932.000

Text File | 1992-09-22 | 6KB | 133 lines

                                                                                SOUTH ATLANTIC, Page 52

Fortress Falklands Strikes It Rich


Ten years after the war, islanders are in the money -- and in
dread of losing their cherished isolation

By LAURA LOPEZ/PORT STANLEY


    It is a Monday morning like any other at the pastoral
Port Howard Farm on West Falkland Island. Several shepherds
roam the 200,000-acre spread in Land Rovers and on motorbikes,
tending the 45,000 woolly residents. In the main house, farm
owner Robin Lee, 42, checks over farm accounts and sips a final
cup of tea before making the weekly commute to his desk job in
the capital city of Port Stanley. When the call comes signaling
that his ride is en route, Lee drives the short stretch to a
grassy landing strip, arriving in time to make sure it is clear
of wandering sheep. As the shiny red nine-seater air taxi
appears over a rocky ridge, Lee gathers up his bag and surveys
the rolling hills in the distance. "This is a good place. There
is no danger, no crime," he says. "But the conflict brought
changes. Once, we thought our life would go on forever."

    The "conflict" is Falklander shorthand for the war between
Britain and Argentina that ended 10 years ago this month after
rocking the windy, 160-mile-wide archipelago of 778 islands for
74 days. The "changes" refer to the spurt of postwar economic
development that has transformed this once depressed South
Atlantic outpost into the wealthiest enclave in the hemisphere.
Last week former British Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher
received a hero's welcome as she touched down in the Falklands
to celebrate the anniversary of the military victory. The warm
welcome no doubt included a dollop of gratitude for the current
economic state of affairs. Today the 2,050 people who live on
the archipelago's 30 inhabitable islands boast a per capita
income of $30,000, as compared with the U.S. per capita rate of
$22,000. If the upside has meant a VCR in every home, the
downside is a threat to the area's cherished isolation, as
tourists, developers and oil speculators take notice of the
archipelago's rich resources.

    So far, the locals, or kelpers as they call themselves,
have gained far more than they have lost. In the mid-1980s, the
British government spent $1 billion to build a military base on
the main island of East Falkland, where 2,000 troops are now
garrisoned along with five Phantom fighter-bombers. London also
earmarked more than $54 million for a development program that
so far has furnished the islands with an improved water system,
a new hospital and their first graded road, 35 miles long. At
the same time, residents were encouraged to buy plots of land
previously controlled by large absentee landowners; today 95%
of Falklands territory is in local hands.

    The most lucrative gift was bestowed in 1986 when Britain
declared a 150-mile fishing-conservation zone around the
archipelago, later extended to 200 miles. Sales of fishing
licenses to Asian and European fleets on the hunt for prized
illex and loligo squid bring the islands annual revenues of $47
million (in contrast to the $7 million earned by islanders in
1981, mostly from the sale of wool). Ironically, for a
population made rich by the indigenous marine life, the kelpers
have no fishing fleets of their own; until three years ago, when
a swimming pool was installed in the capital, most islanders did
not even know how to swim.

    Yet they recognize the potential harm to their waterways
and spend $10 million annually to make sure that fishing
restrictions and conservation measures are enforced. A patrol
fleet chases unlicensed boats out of the waters and monitors
excessive fishing. Officials study fish-migration patterns and
climatic trends to determine where to emphasize conservation.

    The islands' Development Corporation spends $3.5 million
a year building up the private sector. Improvements in the
capital have included a two-car taxi service, a laundry, a
fish-and-chips shop and a beauty salon. The face-lift also added
a secondary school and a hydroponic garden to the community, and
an additional 250 miles of road are planned over the next
decade. The only extravagances, at least by island standards,
have been the installation of a modern telephone system and a
television station, which broadcasts taped British programming
seven hours daily. Those modest amenities helped attract almost
5,000 bird watchers, fishermen and nature lovers last year, all
of whom provide word-of-mouth advertising for the islands'
sightseeing treasures, including penguins, sea lions and
diddle-dee plants.

    Still, the kelpers are determined not to let their
newfound wealth destroy the archipelago's charm. At present,
sheep still outnumber people 365 to 1 -- and islanders would
just as soon keep it that way. The tiny population has managed
to hold the problems of the real world at bay; incidents of
vandalism are few, and aids, prostitution and drugs are still
confined to programs on the telly. Any kelper caught drinking
to excess is put on the Black List, which means that no one can
serve the offender liquor. Should someone be distasteful enough
to start a pub-room brawl, he might be packed off to jail for
a month. The lockup is quite civilized: at night prisoners are
free to roam the facility, answering the phone and watching
television.

    The threat to this backwater existence lies just offshore.
Seismic surveying will begin this year for oil; reserves could
hold as much as nine times the deposits in the North Sea. It
will be at least three years before the results are known, but
kelpers are already nervous. They fear that the discovery of
petroleum might renew Argentina's territorial interest in the
archipelago.

    No less a threat is the oil bonanza, which could destroy
life as the kelpers know and love it. "We would get thousands
of people in here who wouldn't be sensitive to our
environment," says Mike Summers, general manager of the
Development Corporation. If the islands are buffeted by the
blustery mistrals of an oil free-for-all, the invasion of 12,000
Argentine troops might seem like a mild sea breeze by
comparison.