Fortunately for Mrs Thatcher, the Haig party had a miserable time in Buenos Aires. Their treatment contrasted sharply with their experiences in London: ‘The Argentinians completely misjudged how to handle the US delegation,’ recalled Whitmore. ‘They did not even give them decent office accommodation nor let them put in all the communications they needed. They even failed to supply them adequately with food, drink etc… . Small things, but at a time of intense activity, it’s the type of thing that actually hits home. So they came back. It is fair to say that Haig’s attitude had softened considerably. They were pretty fed up with the Argentinians. There was a clear leaning to us, more sympathetic.’166 Haig experienced the greatest difficulty in persuading the junta that they should take the Task Force seriously and threatened to call off the negotiations. In the end, however, he cabled President Reagan that, after ‘nearly twelve hours of gruelling and emotion-filled talks’ with Galtieri and the Foreign Minister, Nicanor Costa Méndez, he had got from them ‘a formula that would involve transitional US–UK–Argentine tripartite supervision of local administration, and we have blurred the question of whether the negotiations would result in Argentine sovereignty.’167 This, he thought, was worth taking to London. As he left Buenos Aires on Easter Sunday, however, Haig was handed a paper by Costa Méndez which effectively retreated from the concessions made. He put this on one side, because Costa Méndez had described it to him as his ‘personal thoughts’, and continued to London, sending a message in advance that there were ‘tentative cracks in the Argentine stone wall’ and that the situation ‘will need the highest statesmanship of both our governments’.168
The Haig team reached London on the morning of 12 April. Although Downing Street was in some disarray because of repainting, Haig and his men were given offices there. They were perched in the room of the patronage secretary responsible for ecclesiastical appointments in the Church of England. On the wall was a map of England divided according to its dioceses. Where Haig might have expected to see charts of the South Atlantic, with places like Southern Thule or Punta Arenas on them, he saw names like ‘Bath and Wells’ and ‘Sodor and Man’. This exerted an odd fascination on Haig, who said to Robert Wade-Gery, ‘Tell me about this C of E thing,’ and ‘went on and on about it’. As a result, the American party were late for their meeting with Mrs Thatcher. ‘Robert, why were you so long?’ asked Mrs Thatcher. ‘If I told you, Prime Minister,’ he replied, ‘you wouldn’t believe me.’169 Pushing the bewildering world of Anthony Trollope from his mind, Haig gave the Prime Minister his account of what had happened in Buenos Aires: ‘The Navy was looking for a fight. The Air Force did not want a war. The Army was somewhere in between.’ He said that Galtieri had warned him that Cuba had offered Argentina all possible help ‘with the full support of the Soviet Union’ and that the Soviets were prepared to sink British vessels. Haig warned Mrs Thatcher that, without a settlement, Argentina might become a ‘Soviet outpost’.170 He then served up what was to be the first of many versions of essentially the same dish. His seven points included mutual withdrawal of troops, the US–UK–Argentine ‘commission’ and the restoration of ‘traditional local administration’, but with Argentine representation and no return of the British Governor; a final settlement of the problem would have to be achieved by 31 December that year.
When it discussed these proposals that afternoon, the War Cabinet was not disposed to reject them out of hand. In the early evening, Mrs Thatcher, Haig and their respective teams met to go over the draft from Buenos Aires more carefully. ‘It soon became clear’, wrote Mrs Thatcher in her private account, ‘that we had not got the full story. Galtieri wanted the Task Force to turn back the moment an agreement was signed.’171 She explained that she ‘would not survive in the House of Commons if the Task Force stopped before the Argentine withdrawal had been completed’, but she offered a bit more than she mentioned in her later accounts: it might be possible for the Task Force to move more slowly, she conceded.172 Mrs Thatcher even agreed to drop the word ‘interim’ when referring to the proposed joint administration, seeing the point of some of the vagueness to which she was constitutionally averse. She accepted that ‘it might be worth making big concessions if Argentine withdrawal could be guaranteed.’173
That morning’s New York Times, however, had carried an article based on the ‘personal thoughts’ that Costa Méndez had pressed into Haig’s hand, showing them to be the official Argentine position. In the evening, Haig, who had not previously mentioned these points to Mrs Thatcher, rang her to say that he had now spoken to Costa Méndez and this was indeed the case: his demands were ‘absolute’. ‘What a sad thing!’ she exclaimed.174 He telephoned her again at 1.20 in the morning after further talk with Costa Méndez. He said that Argentina still insisted absolutely on sovereignty, an unacceptable ultimatum. As she later recalled: ‘It seemed as if our previous day [by which she meant earlier the same day] had been wasted – and yet – wasn’t this really what we expected of a junta.* The condition for withdrawal was that they keep the spoils of invasion.’175 She told him that the Argentine back-tracking meant that he could not now return to Buenos Aires, and that he should say so publicly, explaining why.176
Al Haig was, Mrs Thatcher said, ‘very depressed’.177 In the Foreign Office too, there was ‘a terrible sinking feeling’ as the advance towards hostilities began to feel to some like ‘an unstoppable process’.178 As Jim Rentschler noted in his diary, the next morning, 13 April, was perhaps ‘the lowest point of the whole project’: ‘The first part of the day is mired in extreme pessimism; Haig’s phone discussion with his Argentine opposite number late last night left very little room for maneuver.’179 It was at this point that Mrs Thatcher could have pressed home her case that there was nothing left to talk about, and all negotiations should therefore end. She did not do so. Haig told her that he ‘could say publicly that he was suspending his own efforts, making it clear that this was due to Argentine intransigence. But if he did so other less helpful people might try to intervene,’ Mrs Thatcher later wrote. ‘I was keenly aware of that and I also felt that public opinion here required us not to give up on negotiations yet.’180 Haig agreed to continue his efforts and promptly returned to Washington before taking his latest proposals to Buenos Aires. At Chequers the previous weekend Anthony Parsons had impressed upon Mrs Thatcher how important it was to fill any diplomatic vacuum at the UN which might otherwise be occupied by a growing ‘anti-colonial’ coalition against Britain, spinning matters out so that the position adopted by Resolution 502 was maintained.†
Mrs Thatcher was also impressed by the level of international support that had accumulated since the Argentine invasion. First, covertly, had come Chile, whose own dispute with Argentina over the Beagle Channel had made it hypersensitive to Argentine aggression. Even before the invasion was complete, Chile had offered Britain the use of its ports. From then on, intelligence and logistical co-operation was constant. By 6 April, it had offered the services of its air force and navy, authorized by the dictator, General Augusto Pinochet.* Most Commonwealth countries, notably the countries of the Old Commonwealth, also fell in quickly behind Britain. New Zealand’s Prime Minister, Robert Muldoon, had offered his enthusiastic support on the first Saturday, as had Malcolm Fraser of Australia. Then, after the call from Mitterrand, had come real, though rather more cautious support from Helmut Schmidt and, to Mrs Thatcher’s pleased surprise, an EEC vote, on 10 April, to impose a total ban on Argentine imports for four weeks from 17 April. She was conscious that this goodwill should not be presumed upon. At home, she came to understand that continuing the diplomatic process until the Task Force reached its destination was essential. Even though this process was very unlikely to produce a result she could accept, it would serve to placate the ‘wetter’ members of her party, and disable the Opposition, without enraging her natural supporters. John Nott summed up the role of Haig as it was emerging: he was ‘polite, charming, a frightful nuisance, but he filled this great long
vacuum’.181
The very next day, 14 April, provided an example of just how annoying, from the British point of view, Haig could be. The Washington Post, under the front-page headline ‘US Aiding British Fleet in Atlantic’, reported US satellite and intelligence assistance for Britain and the offer of fuel tanks in Ascension Island. Argentina immediately used this as an excuse for refusing further negotiations, and Haig rang Mrs Thatcher. He said he proposed to put out a statement denying the story and saying that there would be no help to Britain ‘beyond the customary patterns of co-operation … British use of facilities on the UK island of Ascension has been restricted accordingly.’ ‘Oh, now that’s a bit devastating,’ said Mrs Thatcher. ‘The House of Commons’, she went on, would be disappointed that ‘the full difference between democracy and dictatorship is not appreciated and that we are both treated the same.’182 In a later conversation with him the same day, she pointed out that his proposed statement was self-contradictory – if there was no special co-operation, why was he withdrawing it? She summed up brusquely: ‘What I’m saying, Al, is for Pete’s sake, get that use of Ascension Island out of your statement, because it’s our island and we can’t exactly invade our island.’ ‘Of course not,’ said Haig meekly, ‘I will take that out.’183
Mrs Thatcher herself was only partially aware of how true the story in the Washington Post was. Almost from the first day, through the good offices of the Pentagon, the United States had been providing secret assistance to Britain.* Weinberger, confident in the support of his boss, acted at first without telling the President directly. When, days into the crisis, British requests became far more significant he met Reagan privately. The President’s response was clear and simple: ‘Give Maggie everything she needs to get on with it.’184 The Americans had cracked Argentine military codes: ‘The NSA [National Security Agency] had broken the code for Argentina’s military communication. They were able to pass the data to the British in real time, so they got it even before those in the Falklands. It then leaked out that this was happening so the Argentines changed the code. But the NSA broke it again in just twenty-four hours.’185† The same co-operation extended to kit. According to Dov Zakheim, the point man on the subject in the Pentagon: ‘Weinberger wanted to ensure that Britain had whatever it needed … He wanted to know what had happened to each request. Had we met it? If not, why not?’186 In acting thus, without formal authority, Weinberger probably broke the law, but no one was disposed to arraign him for it. Even before Haig’s diplomacy had come to an end, US military help for Britain began to move on to a more formal footing. By 19 April, for example, presidential authority had been obtained to provide Britain with six surface-to-air missile launchers and twelve missiles.187 As a result of his behaviour in the Falklands War, Weinberger was to become one of Mrs Thatcher’s lifelong heroes.
On 14 April, Mrs Thatcher exposed the Haig proposals to the full Cabinet. She explained that Haig himself did not know whether his proposals would ‘stick’ in Buenos Aires. Argentina was holding out for an Argentine governor flying the Argentine flag and negotiations which must end in Argentine sovereignty (this was Mrs Thatcher’s interpretation of Costa Méndez’s five demands). These things were ‘totally unacceptable’, she said, according to Robert Armstrong’s notes, but ‘if we secure withdrawal and restoration of Ex and Leg Co [the Executive and Legislative Councils], a great prize’. ‘Absolute sticking-point is paramountcy of wishes of islanders,’ she added. In the discussion which followed, Pym and Geoffrey Howe argued that concessions had to be made and that there would be no return to the status quo ante. Nigel Lawson and Lord Hailsham took the opposite view, arguing that the sort of settlement Haig wanted would show that aggression had paid. Mrs Thatcher, for all her bellicosity with Haig, found herself sitting in the middle. ‘All they are getting for withdrawal’, she said in reply to Hailsham, ‘is one-third of a Commission.’188 At this time, her mind moved constantly back and forth between natural outrage at conceding anything and a reluctant sense of what might be politic. The fact was that the War Cabinet, with her approval, had made some concessions which Haig was authorized to use. In Parliament that day, she explained, as frankly as she could, the progress of the Haig mission, and said that Britain was negotiating. She emphasized the importance of the wishes of the islanders, using the word ‘paramount’.189
On 15 April, Al Haig left Washington and again set off for Buenos Aires. Pessimistic about Argentine attitudes, he cabled the President, warning him that ‘we should begin to prepare ourselves for the worst’ and inviting him to consider whether Reagan himself should ‘push Mrs Thatcher to come forth with a significant concession’ or whether the whole mission should be broken off: ‘Whether you should, or could, push Mrs Thatcher to this bitter conclusion – that they cannot in any event resist the course of history and that they are now paying the price for previous UK vacillation on the sovereignty question – with all that would mean for her, for our relationship, and our own principles, will require very careful thought.’190 On that same day, Reagan had a civil but not very substantive telephone conversation with General Galtieri. ‘I agree that a war in this hemisphere between two Western nations, both friendly to the United States, is unthinkable,’ Reagan told Galtieri, who stressed repeatedly his anxiety at the approach of the British fleet.191 He then sent Mrs Thatcher a message reporting the Galtieri conversation, neither approving nor disapproving of what the general had said. She replied fiercely the next day that the suggestion (from Galtieri) that the aggressor can be left in possession of his spoils was ‘gravely misplaced … The fundamental principles for which the free world stands would be shattered.’192 Reagan rang her the following day, offering some reassurance. As he put it in his diary: ‘Al Haig is there [in Buenos Aires] and as of noon the situation looked hopeless. I called Margaret Thatcher to tell her I’d cabled him to return home if there was no break in the Argentine position.’193 Mrs Thatcher’s version was: ‘I said we could go no further and President Reagan agreed that it would not be reasonable to ask us to move further.’194*
Haig did, in fact, manage to extract some sort of text from Argentina before he left, but when he was at Buenos Aires airport the same thing happened as on his previous trip. Costa Méndez handed him an envelope going back on the modest concessions made and insisting that recognition of Argentine sovereignty over the islands by 31 December 1982 was a sine qua non of all negotiation. In the circumstances, it did not seem worth returning to London. Haig cabled Pym. He did not tell him about the Costa Méndez ambush, but he gave him the Argentine text, and did not try very hard to sell it: ‘My own disappoint [sic] with this text prevents me from attempting to influence you in any way … Francis, I do not know whether more can be wrung out of the Argentines. It is not clear who is in charge here, as many as 50 people, including corps commanders, may be exercising vetos [sic]. Certianly [sic], I can do no better at this point.’195 The War Cabinet, realizing Britain could not be blamed, happily and swiftly rejected the text, believing that this long game was now at an end.
There was less agreement, though, about the best way to handle the collapse of the Haig mission. Francis Pym suggested an idea for a new UN Security Council resolution that Britain might put forward itself. Mrs Thatcher was intensely suspicious, fearing that another country would introduce an amendment which would prevent the use of force. She rang Anthony Parsons in New York about it. It was ‘utterly appalling’, she said, and would show Britain ‘washing our hands’ of the islanders. ‘I took one look at it and said well I suppose this is Foreign Office,’ but the Foreign Office had assured her it was Parsons’s idea, hence the call. Parsons managed to reassure her that he was very much against a new resolution, but that Britain should be ready with one if necessary to prevent a worse draft coming from the United States and Jeane Kirkpatrick. As they wound up the call on friendly terms, Mrs Thatcher added with a touch of pathos, ‘I have no department here and I’m jolly well realising that I need a department. I have no depar
tment and therefore I have to rely on third-hand hearsay and I don’t like it.’196
These words are reminders of the astonishing extent of her isolation during the Falklands War. In all her long-running economic battles with the spending departments and the Wets, she was able to work closely with the Treasury team, but for the Falklands crisis she was not close to any other minister or department. With Carrington gone and Pym replacing him, she had little faith in her Foreign Secretary. She had been shaken by John Nott’s performance in the first debate in the Commons and had noticed that he was ‘often in a pretty febrile state’.197 Although she did not regard him as politically hostile, Nott became, according to Clive Whitmore, ‘rather suspect in the PM’s eyes’.198 When it came to the progress of the conflict, ‘The PM wanted to hear from Terry Lewin, not from him,’ admitted Nott’s own private secretary, David Omand.199 Willie Whitelaw, though useful for his political feel and his own experience of war, was not deeply engaged in the running of the crisis. Nor was the other member of the War Cabinet, Cecil Parkinson. He was politically loyal to Mrs Thatcher and performed well on television, but he was the most junior of the five ministers, and his experience of the armed forces was limited to a brief spell of national service in the RAF. Michael Havers, the Attorney-General, with his combination of wartime naval experience, political attitude and important legal advice on matters like Rules of Engagement, was a congenial spirit to the Prime Minister, but he was not a man with his own political standing. Perhaps her closest political companion was Ian Gow. He was passionately loyal, and seized of the romance of the situation.200 Shortly after the Task Force had sailed, he sent Mrs Thatcher a handwritten letter about the ‘loneliness of your task’. There were ‘many of us’, he said, ‘who, whatever the future holds in store, will be forever thankful for having had the privilege of trying to help the finest chief, the most resolute and far sighted leader and the kindest and most considerate friend that any man could hope to serve’.201 Gow worked tirelessly to secure her position in the House of Commons, and gave her great comfort; but he was not, of course, in any position of command, or of policy-making.
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