Britain and Spain are poised to agree a joint sovereignty deal over Gibraltar, to the chagrin of its zealously loyal subjects living there. Paddy Woodworth examines the background to the saga
Location, location, location. That maxim holds true at least as much for international politics as for property values. Gibraltar looks like a barren rock, and its cluttered architecture and rather tatty cultural ambience owe more to El Paso than to Paris.
Nevertheless, situated strategically at the meeting point not only of Europe and Africa, but also of the Mediterranean and the Atlantic, the Rock is one of the hottest geopolitical property locations in the world.
Small wonder it has caused three centuries of quarrelling between two great European powers, Spain and Britain. Even today, with London and Madrid best buddies inside the European Union, Gibraltar is the subject of difficult negotiations, comparable in delicacy and complexity to the Northern Ireland peace process.
It is the fact that this peace process is being used as a model to unblock the negotiations which has whipped most of the Rock's 27,033 inhabitants into a frenzy of denunciation. Gibraltarians see the current amicable talks between British Home Secretary Jack Straw and Spanish Foreign Minister Josep Piqué as preparing the ground for a kind of Downing Street Declaration on the peninsula's future.
Gibraltar's Chief Minister, Peter Caruana, says he expect the two governments to agree a formula for joint sovereignty soon, regardless of the views of the people whose future is at stake. The ministers did not go that far when they made "good progress" at their meeting in London on Monday, but civil servants on both sides are telling anyone who will listen that such a formula has been virtually drafted.
Taking their script from the Northern Irish unionists in the mid-1990s, the Gibraltarians accuse the Blair government of "selling out" and "treachery". They have, predictably, the support of the Tories in London. More seriously, some senior Labour voices used similar rhetoric in a parliamentary debate which left Straw distinctly battered last month.
"How has this government allowed itself to be led into this morass by the appeasement tendency in the foreign office?" asked former minister Gerald Kaufman. "There are many of us on this side who will not tolerate the people of Gibraltar being bullied or blackmailed!"
Kaufman's reference to "appeasement" was gratuitously insulting to democratic Spain, whose interest in Gibraltar bears no resemblance to Hitler's in Munich. But it does indicate the passion with which historical memory has become folded into the Gibraltar dispute.
The Spanish, for their part, insist on referring to the Rock as "the last colony in Europe", a view more or less endorsed by United Nations resolutions, but which hardly reflects the complex reality of the situation either.
Gibraltar was indeed seized by British armed forces in 1704, along with the island of Menorca, during the War of the Spanish Succession. However, Madrid ceded the territory (all 6.5 sq km of it) to London under the Treaty of Utrecht nine years later. This treaty, which Spain says still governs the status of the peninsula, adds the important proviso that Gibraltar automatically reverts to Spain if Britain should abandon it.
The Spanish recovered Menorca by force during the 18th century, but even a one-year siege of the Rock during the War of American Independence failed to displace the British. Spain has never fired another shot across the tiny border, but has made persistent diplomatic efforts to regain sovereignty ever since.
However, Britain had come, with good reason, to regard the peninsula as an important strategic asset in protecting its maritime power, an importance that became crucial once the Suez Canal opened up the Mediterranean route to her eastern colonies.
The significance of Gibraltar to London was copperfastened during the second World War, the more so because Britain was aware that Gen Franco was tempted by Hitler's offer to help Spain take it back.
In the post-war period, Franco skilfully rode the rising anti-colonial tide to gain support for Spain's position at the United Nations. Britain retained strong strategic interest in the territory, however, and the fact that Spain remained a quasi-fascist dictatorship made it possible for London to put a democratic gloss on its reluctance to hand it over.
MEANWHILE, the same factors made the citizens of the Rock feel more attached to Britain than ever. They benefited economically from huge defence contracts on a small scrap of land, which made them much richer than than their Andalusian neighbours. They also enjoyed the democratic freedoms Franco denied to Spaniards.
While most of them remained Spanish in ethnic origin, their identification with "British values" intensified. In 1969, they adopted a constitution which gave them self-government in all respects except defence, external affairs and internal policing, and Britain formally agreed that their status could not be altered without their consent.
Franco regarded this provision as a violation of the Utrecht Treaty and sealed the border, imposing considerable hardship on the inhabitants, who had hitherto passed back and forth freely to do business and visit relatives. This harsh measure remained in place through the early years of Spain's transition to democracy and was only relaxed in 1984.
Residual loyalty to Madrid among Gibraltarians evaporated almost totally during this period.
Numerous rounds of subsequent negotiation since then have failed to square the circle, with Britain insisting until now on the principle of consent. However, Gibraltar's reputation, at least partly justified, as a haven for money-laundering and a bridgehead for the illegal drugs trade, has damaged its image and made its loyal subjects more than a little embarrassing for London.
Britain and Spain have meanwhile grown much closer, through shared EU and NATO membership. The dispute has become an anachronism, and the chummy relationship between prime ministers Tony Blair and José María Aznar has finally opened the door the prospect of joint sovereignty.
Straw still insists that any agreement between Madrid and London will only be implemented with the consent of the Gibraltarians. Spain does not accept this, but promises that new arrangements will not limit the Rock's autonomy. If the two governments reach formal agreement by their self-imposed deadline of this summer, Gibraltarians may find the world a very lonely place to assert the right of self-determination.
"Gibraltar is not Britain's to give away," read a Gibraltarian placard at a protest in London on Monday. It sounds like they need some advice from the Shankill Road.
Paddy Woodworth is an assistant foreign desk editor with The Irish Times