I remember quite vividly when the phone rang. It was a few days following the Argentinean military invasion of the Falklands – or as we called them, the Malvinas Islands. On the other side of the line was a young voice. He introduced himself as a journalist at the local Cambridge newspaper, and told me that the newspaper had asked the University whether there were any Argentinean students studying there. Yes, he had been told, there was one student, pursuing his master’s degree in International Relations. That student was me.

The young journalist went on to stress that I was the only Argentinean student at Cambridge, and said he wanted to interview me. I accepted on one condition - that my name would not be mentioned. I thought it was best to be cautious. After all, the Argentinean military junta then in power might not like what I was going to say. I held an Argentinean passport. Who knew what they might do to me?

Of course, it had escaped my attention that if there was only one Argentinean student registered at Cambridge, and the local newspaper published his opinion, then anyone else wanting to find out who he was would not find it too difficult to do so.

I still remember that a day after the invasion I went to have a haircut. The person cutting my hair was Italian. I spoke to him in English and Spanish. He spoke to me in English and Italian. The place was full. “Where are you from?” he asked me. Without hesitation, I replied immediately, “Argentina.” Everyone turned their heads towards me. Some smiled. Maybe they thought I was being funny. Who in his right mind would say he was from Argentina a day after the invasion? The friendly Italian became as red as a tomato. He lowered his voice and urged me, perhaps rather belatedly, that I should never say that I was from Argentina. He suggested that I should mention Mexico as an alternative place of origin.

I was never ill-treated for being an Argentinean. As a matter of fact, I actually became a sort of a celebrity at Cambridge. My academic supervisor, R.T.B. Langhorne, from St. John’s College, once called me to his office. I thought he would want to discuss my thesis. I was wrong. He had spoken to the Vice Chancellor of the University, Professor Sir Francis Harry Hinsley, and that both had agreed that if I should encounter any problem on account of my being Argentinean, the University would be there to help me. I was moved.

Similar expressions of personal support were not rare, and were not confined to Cambridge. I recall, a few months later, in the wake of the war, coming back from a trip abroad. The officer at Heathrow Airport who had to stamp my passport, turned to me and asked me: “May I ask whether you have been treated badly by people in this country due to the war?” I was surprised at his question. If at all, I expected some polite but firm questions, considering that I held an Argentinean passport. I replied that, quite the contrary, people had been very kind to me. There was a visible sigh of relief on his part. “I am so happy to hear that!”

When I had left Britain, a woman working for the airline with which I was due to fly, uttered at the sight of my passport, “An Argentinean Passport! How on earth were you allowed in?” She was joking, or so I thought. Among the students at Cambridge, I was considered the person to talk to about the conflict. Some of them, though, were disappointed. Being an Argentinean, they thought I would be all in favour of the invasion. Well, I wasn’t. Indeed, I thought that, in principle, the British had every right to fight back, though I hardly relished the prospect of war, to say the least.

I made it clear that, conceptually, I kept separate the issues of the invasion and the legal question as to whether the Falklands/Malvinas Islands should belong to Britain or to Argentina. I was against the first, very much so. I remember saying that my case was, in a way, similar to the case of an Italian who believed in parliamentary democracy opposing Mussolini’s military invasion of Abyssinia back in 1935. I wasn’t trying to draw an exact parallel between the Falklands/Malvinas and Abyssinia, of course. My example was clear to them, but so was their astonishment.

Students coming from former British colonies thought they had an ally in me. Their rhetoric was singularly hostile to Britain. They were surprised that mine was not. It hurt me very much that young Argentinean conscripts might die, in this particular case, for the wrong cause. I blamed the military junta, not the British government. Even British students found themselves being more critical of their government’s actions than I was. 

Many things in life happen unintentionally. As a result of the war, the military junta collapsed and democracy was re-established in Argentina. Paradoxically, Argentineans have to thank the British government for that. Well, maybe they have to thank the military junta then in power as well. It is sad, though, that it came at the expense of so many Argentinean and British lives. But I for one consider myself lucky to have been at Cambridge during that difficult time.

Dr. Yoav J. Tenembaum is a member of the Diplomacy Program at the Political Science Department in Tel Aviv University.