A Mamá

Mamá me mima, mamá me ama decía el texto que teníamos allá en primer grado. Pero mi mamá, mi mamá siempre hace más.
Mamá me entiende cuando ni si quiera sé de que hablo; mamá me escucha cuando el mundo duerme. Mamá me dio la vida, pero no solamente la vida, me dio una vida con principios que ella vive día a día; me enseñó a hacer la diferencia, a creer en mi mismo, a seguir aunque el mundo diga que no. Sí, es cierto todo lo que dicen y escriben: Mamá me ama y me dio la vida. Lo que no nos dicen es que hay mamás (como la mía!) que toman el overol y se dedican a ser mamá las 24 horas, los 365 días desde que aparecemos en esta existencia. En China, en Rusia o en Argentina, distancias y tiempos son ideas abstractas; ella esta.
Me cose las alas cuando en algún batallar se lastiman; sus manos doradas muestran el trabajo de años; cada mancha, cada arruga, cada linea marcada tiene algo nuestro. Y, sin embargo, aun hoy, después de tantos anos, es la primera en recibir cada día, en estar cada mañana, y la ultima en despedir cada noche. Cierto, es triste ver que alguien la pueda lastimar, hacerla llorar, no ver lo que veo. Pero, para aquellos, que pena. Perder minutos con esa mamá es negarse a algo único e indescriptible que llena el alma. Y, que si no esta, duele en el pecho con dolor sordo.
A mamá le digo hoy, como le digo siempre, como cada día, te quiero mamá!
Gracias por ser mi mamá.
Te amo,
Jorge

Manos ajadas de tanto trabajar,
los años clementes no les han sido
y sin embargo, por ella dejarme abrazar
es aquello que seguir me ha permitido.

Silenciosa, tímida y aveces con vergüenza
la mas solida, la mas estoica
mujer, madre, abuela todas una con sutileza
día a día hace esa diferencia única.

Cabello gris y blanco, mirada limpia, mirada calma
sus labios nunca ofenden, si uno de la verdad es amigo.
Fideitos y pasta los domingos, deleite por demás
y cada día planchar, lavar, cortar y tanto mas.
Mamá es de esos seres que se las ingenia
para, sin esfuerzo y naturalmente, llenarme el alma.

A story. Una historia.

Chapter I. Why am I writing? It must be that such a story must not be missed. Perhaps impotence; I do not know. However, the reason does not matter. Indeed, I've finally done it. But before going into the story I am forced to admit that this task has already been started, as I recall, a little over two years ago. And the results, you may ask. So deep was the pain that caused the actions and events that are going to know that not enough strength or courage emerged as to rescue it from my desolation. A disrupted life. An existence with no longer a reason. A dream wounded, dying, and infinite source of purple blood. Little remained of, by then, the soul, to be able to protect anything around it. Having made the clarification, that I personally considered necessary to forgive the guilt originated with the undoubtedly misguided decision, it is better to begin the story. More or less, it began like this ... Córdoba 1500. Almagro. Federal Capital. A few years ago. Last Wednesday of March. Moonless night. Ash grey sky. It threatens to intensify one of those storms that continue indefinitely. By the window of a department that faces the street, yet virgin to the vital fluid, a subtle light escapes from perhaps a glimmer of an adjoining room. Shapeless in an armchair. Alone. It was not unusual. Totally the opposite, as regularly, and more than ever in recent times. A large room that we could be seen as the living room (and hey! It is the most accurate name for that place, at least in this case). Not very high white walls covered by a thin and worn layer of paint and adorned with some family pictures. Little furniture. At the center, right in front of him, an oval coffee table, dust. Above, only one item: the phone. Half awake, without being even nine. It may not sound strange to someone else. However, it is if we bear in mind that he just had lunch after having risen from her, at this point, foul nest, as he had done the day before and the one before it. It has been exactly one and a half months from his return. Not a whisper about. Complete solitude. His soul and he given to the slow erosion that causes melancholy to those formidable beings without initiative. With an explosion for its opening, the rain erupts. Morpheus, yes, such his grace, does not flinch. On the contrary, seems to radiate a sense of profound relief. Water falls like vomit. The phone rings. For the first time, there is some anxiety, also doubt and fear mixed in the atmosphere. Apart from moving to find food, or defecate or swallowing it, his life moved in tune with the bell. The waiting was slow torture. Just by hearing that sound again, he was deeply troubled. And if it was not that person who he was waiting for, desolation again mastered his poor sowl. He lived in a trance since they met. Flying remotely without leaving the room. Gone, absent most of his days. He believed he owned the whole, then he questioned himself owner of what, finally recognising he owned nothing. He was being devoured by demons constantly bubbling in his blood. Anxiety, childish immaturity and painful mixture of passion, the result of a first encounter with love, only that with a wrong one. A game amongst many other games that are unique but that leave a wound deeper than any others; it is impossible to go back, to go on living. Dreams that could not be. Tenderness wasted in platonic conversations. Still, smothered in endless sorrows, fervently believed that this was the ultimate experience. And how not to do it if this was his first experience with the world? Twenty two years old and it was inexplicable how he had made it. Sometimes, I thought, by spontaneous chance. Almost all his childhood he was seriously ill, isolated from other kids playing quietly as he watched as enclosed in a glass box in his room. Then, when it all seemed over, he began to push himself too hard. Both in sports and intellectually, without anyone perceiving, looking to be the best, as if to pass a test against who knows what eventuality. He had to be the first at any cost, even if it meant life but to the point of much effort to get there and not enjoying the journey. He seemed not to feel, not realizing the surroundings. He was related to the others in a superficial way, although his inner-self was fully surrendered, extremely pure and without hint of malice or interest. A unique, magical chemical mixture of endless and angry feelings living in this unawaken soul, a soul too transparent to control them and hide them from opportunistic profiteers without the slightest scruple. In these or other times, it was dangerous to be presented that way. And he did not know. Walking the world with a personality that is still forming, both simple, and wherever he went radiating light with his presence. And now, not a glimpse of the dashing young man he had been once. His face was still that of a child despite the fact that he was in his twenties. Brown hair dominated by waves born from neglect. Blue or green eyes depending on the weather –or his mood. But for those who had known him, it was clear that he had lost that something, hard to describe, that makes some people source of light and magic. Sadness introduced him, a blurred image of who he uses to be. The only detail that was not damaged was the fall of his aquiline nose which gave the whole a harmony almost amoral, secular, because of the large swings that had suffered. Strangely, the facial hair had not grown extensively. Yet, it was clear the filth and neglect. He had lost several kilos. Even the way he used to walk and that had characterised him once, it was driven by inertia now. He takes time but answers. His eyes fill with a bright hard to describe. The voice is changing from broken and nervous to placid. Incessant wandering, first from the room to the kitchen, then, only in the room, facing the window. But, always, looking dangerously lost amongst livido, passion and madness. With one hand holding the appliance, and in the other hand the tube. With skill, so parading between rooms and furniture getting full stretch of the cord and without throwing anything on the floor. More than half an hour and the conversation comes to an end. Farewell overflowing feelings too intimate. Packed with contradictions, and immediately after cutting, he grabs an overcoat and throws himself to the raw and wet night. XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX Capitulo I. ¿Por qué estoy escribiendo? Debe ser que una historia así no debe dejarse perder. Quizá sea impotencia; no sé. De todas formas, la causa poco importa. Sí, en cambio, el hecho que finalmente lo he logrado. Antes de comenzar con el relato me veo en la obligación de admitir que esta tarea ya había sido iniciada, si mal no recuerdo, hace poco más de dos años. ¿Y los resultados?, se preguntarán. Tan agudo fue el dolor que provocaron los actos y sucesos que van a conocer que no emergían fuerzas suficientes ni valentía tal como para lograr rescatarlos de mi desoladora destrucción. Una vida desbaratada en jirones. Una existencia cuya razón había dejado de ser. Un sueño malherido, agonizante, manantial de infinita y purpúrea sangre. Poco restaba de, por entonces, ese alma, como para haberle exigido resguardar su alrededor. Hecha la aclaración, que personalmente consideraba necesaria, de seguro para expiar la culpa por la sin dudas desacertada decisión, mejor será dar inicio al relato. Más o menos, comenzaba así ... Córdoba al 1500. Barrio de Almagro. Capital Federal. Unos pocos años atrás. Último miércoles de marzo. Noche sin luna. Cielo gris ceniza. Amenaza con arreciar una de esas tormentas que se prolongan indefinidamente. Desde la ventana de uno de los departamentos que da a la calle, todavía virgen al vital fluido, se escapa una tenue luz proveniente quizá de un cuarto contiguo. Desarmado en el sillón. Solo. No era raro. Al contrario, como de costumbre y más que nunca en los últimos tiempos. Habitación grande que podríamos individualizar como sala de estar (y vaya que es un nombre correctísimo para ese lugar, por lo menos en este caso). Paredes blancas no muy altas cubiertas por una tenue capa de pintura algo ajada y adornadas con algunos cuadros de familia. Unos pocos muebles. Al centro, justo frente a él, una mesa ratona de forma oval, sin polvo. Encima, sólo un elemento: el teléfono. Entredormido, sin ser aún las nueve. Quizá para otro no suene extraño. Sin embargo, lo es pues acababa de almorzar tras haberse levantado de su, a esta altura, hediondo nido, al igual que lo había hecho el día anterior y el anterior a éste desde hacía exactamente mes y medio: desde su regreso. Ni un suspiro alrededor. Completa soledad. Él y su alma entregados a la lenta erosión que la melancolía provoca en seres formidables pero sin iniciativa. Con una explosión de entrada, abre la lluvia. Morfeo, sí, tal su gracia, no se inmuta. Al contrario, parece irradiar una sensación de profundo alivio. El agua cae a vómitos. El teléfono llama. Por primera vez, se experimenta algo de ansiedad, mezcla de duda y miedo, en el ambiente. A excepción de salir para procurarse alimentos, enguyirlos o defecarlos, su vida se movía al compás de ese timbre. La espera era lenta tortura. Al escucharlo, se turbaba hondamente. Ah, y si no era esa persona a quien esperaba, la desolación volvía a hacer estragos en el pobre. Vivía en estado de trance desde que se conocieron. Volaba remotamente sin salir de su habitación. Ido la mayor parte de sus días. Creía que era dueño de un todo, dueño de qué, finalmente, dueño de nada. Era devorado constantemente por los demonios que bullían en la sangre y se ensañaban con su alma ya hecha trozos sin siquiera evidenciar entendimiento alguno. Ansiedad pueril mezcla de inmadurez y dolorosa pasión, resultado de un primer encuentro con el amor, sólo que uno errado. Uno de tantos encuentros que sin embargo son únicos pues marcan una existencia tan hondo y zanjan una herida por demás profunda que hace imposible pensar en volver atrás, en seguir viviendo. Sueños que no pudieron ser. Ternura desperdiciada en platónicas conversaciones. Aún así, asfixiado de pesares inacabables, creía fervientemente que esa era la máxima experiencia, el mayor acercamiento que podría tener vez alguna con un sentimiento como éste, tan frenético y lascivo, y a la vez, de semejante ternura y virtud. ¿ Y cómo no hacerlo si esta era su primera experiencia con el mundo? Veintidós años y no se explicaba cómo había llegado a ellos. A veces, pensaba, por generación espontánea. Casi toda su niñez estuvo gravemente enfermo, aislado de los demás críos que jugaban plácidamente mientras los miraba como encerrado en una caja de cristal desde su habitación. Luego, cuando todo parecía haber pasado, comenzó a exigirse demasiado. Tanto en deportes como intelectualmente, sin que nadie lo percibiera, buscaba ser el mejor, como queriendo superar una prueba contra quien sabe que eventualidad. Debía ser primero a cualquier precio, aunque significara dejar de sentir la vida por tanto esfuerzo en llegar y no disfrutar el cómo. Parecía no sentir, no darse cuenta de lo circundante. Se relacionaba con los demás en forma superficial, pese a que en el interior se entregaba de lleno, con extrema pureza y sin dejo de maldad o atisbo de interés propio. Un ser único, mezcla químico-mágica de inacabables y furiosos sentires dormidos y un alma demasiado transparente para poder controlarlos y ocultarlos de oportunistas o aprovechadores sin el más mínimo escrúpulo. En esos u otros día, resultaba peligroso presentarse de esa manera. Y él lo hacía sin saberlo. Deambulaba por el mundo con esa arrolladora personalidad todavía en gestación, a la vez simple, y donde quiera que iba irradiaba ánimo con su sola presencia. Remedos quedaban del gallardo joven que había sido. Su rostro todavía era el de un niño pese a que contaba con veinticinco escasamente vividos años. De cabello castaño enmarañado en brujones por la desidia. Ojos azul verdosos o verde azulados, dependiendo del tiempo. Mas, para quienes lo conocían de antes, era claro que habían perdido esa, difícil de describir, magia de luz que emanaban. Mostrábanse apagados, tristes, desdibujados. El único detalle que no había sido estropeado era el de la caída aguileña de su nariz que le otorgaba al conjunto una armonía casi amoral, profana, motivo de los grandes vaivenes que había padecido. Extrañamente, el bello no había crecido demasiado; barba ni bigote eran profusos. Aún así, era evidente el desaseo y la desatención. Había perdido varios kilos. Hasta el andar con porte de varón que tanto lo caracterizaba se había reducido a dejarse arrastrar por la inercia. Tarda, pero contesta. Sus ojos se llenan de un brillo difícil de describir. La voz va variando de nerviosa y cortada a plácida. Deambular incesante, primero de la sala a la cocina; luego, sólo en la sala, frente al ventanal. Pero, siempre, con la mirada peligrosamente extraviada entre la lívido, la pasión y la locura. En una mano el aparato, y en la otra, el tubo. Con destreza, desfilaba de tal forma entre las habitaciones y el mobiliario que conseguía estirar al máximo el cable y todo sin arrojar nada al suelo. Más de media hora y la conversación llega a su final. Despedida desbordante de sentimientos demasiado íntimos. Atiborrado de contradicciones, e inmediatamente luego de cortar, toma un sobretodo y se echa a la crudeza exterior.

Strive for excellence

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood, who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; because there is not effort without error and shortcomings; but who does actually strive to do the deed; who knows the great enthusiasm, the great devotion, who spends himself in a worthy cause, who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement and who at the worst, if he fails, at least he fails while daring greatly. So that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.” Theodore Roosevelt.

Falkland/Malvinas islands: shared sovereignty and distributive justice

A mis amigos en Argentina

Hace unos días recibí un email en cadena o una publicidad (no recuerdo) que se titulaba “Día del amigo”. Y sí, inevitablemente pensé en cada uno de ustedes, mis amigos. No sé de otro país que festeje el día del amigo. Pero bueno, nosotros lo hacemos! Faltan unos días aún pero quería hacerles llegar unas palabras… hace rato que no nos vemos, no nos hablamos, no nos escribimos, pero cada uno de ustedes sigue estando conmigo a donde voy. Han marcado en mi algo que no se ve pero que sigue ahí. Y por eso hoy reciben este mensaje. Porque siguen siendo únicos para mi, para Jorge. Les dejo una canción de una de nuestras tantas voces que justamente es la preferida de una de mis amigas y que dice algunas de las cosas que les querría decir. Lo que me han enseñado cada uno de ustedes y me sigue enseñando la vida: anímense a soñar y compartan sus sueños que todos crecemos juntos. Saludos a cada uno de ustedes y a cada una de sus familias que, como siempre digo, son nuestras familias. Cecilia, Ana, Mónica, Rosita, Martín, Germán, Roxi, Bea, Rodrigo, Carlos, Betiana, Guillermo, Verónica, Graciela, Eduardo, María, Ariel, Gustavo, Esteban, Adriana, Romina, Bibiana, Javier, Nancy, Aixa, Laura, Ceferino, Horacio, Natalia, Luciana, Lorena, Inés, Patricio, Brenda, Silvina, Hugo, Daniel, Juan, Emiliano, y a quien se me fuera el nombre de la cabeza en este momento! GRACIAS! Todo lo mejor, Jorge

Hypocrisy.

If someone cries his eyes out when watching a TV documentary about social struggle in Latin America but then has a line of the white powder, is that someone naïve, and idiot or just hypocrite?
I don’t intend to promote a value judgment on the use of illegal substances. Yet, it is a fact that in order for the illegal substance to be able to be in hands of the user, negative elements come into play. For instance, from the moment it is produced to the one that is purchased by the consumer, it has to follow a route that usually starts miles away. Besides, the starting point is more often than not a piece of land in a non-rich country that suffers from many evils (e.g. corruption, ineffective governance, social inequalities to name a few). People are used as “camels” to transport the substance in their bodies through international borders, children are exploited in indescribable ways, and families are turn apart only because someone at the other end of the world enjoys sinking his miseries in a line of shame.
Again, I don’t want to say this or that conduct is right or wrong (who am I to say that?). However, next time there’s someone around whom you know spoiling the future of Latin American children with the use of these substances, and that someone has the unbelievable guts to make a comment s about the justice or fairness of this world, just don’t let that someone enjoy your presence.
We make a better world by making ourselves better, by making a difference. Dare to be different. If you don’t fit, maybe it’s because the surroundings are not big enough for you. Outgrow.

Inverse discrimination

Inverse discrimination.
Is it a sin to be white? Is it wrong to have blue eyes? Is it against human value to train and be fit? A few days ago I was put again under a situation that left me thinking. As one of the editors for a journal in a particular science, it was time to select the pieces of writing that were going to be part of this year’s edition. When we realized, there were many proposals in regard different topics. However, one or two were topics not covered at all with the exception of one essay. This particular essay was not good either in terms of contents or formal aspects (e.g. grammar, quotes). To my surprise, the head of the journal proposed to include this writing in this year’s edition and omit other proposals –firstly selected due to their highest standards- because of the fact there were no other papers presented in that specific field. I understood this decision as inverse discrimination and didn’t accept the idea. In the end, the article isn’t going to be present in the next edition of the journal.
The above story is only one of the many examples I had to go through in the recent years. Because of regulations in UK, every time you apply for any position you have to complete and equal opportunities’ form stating your gender, age group, ethnic origin, religion and even sexual preference! Is it a plus then if I were a black lesbian girl with any disability?
Without sounding racist –that isn’t the intention at all- it feels that many people are left without chances just because nowadays they don’t belong to any minority. What before was racism, today is inverse discrimination.
If you’ve worked hard all your life and saved money to have a good car or a big house or expensive holidays, it seems you should share your standards of living with those who didn’t make it. And people in higher spheres support this way of thinking with theories of distributive justice –people that have millions of pounds, american dollars or euros or all of them- and are not willing to distribute their fortunes. To be clear: one thing is to help those in need that don’t have the opportunity to improve their relative position due to their personal circumstances (e.g. disability) or the place where they live (e.g. dictatorships) and another thing is not to push yourself further and intend others to do it for you! To this latter group, no distributive justice should be even considered. If you don’t work hard, why those who do it should make the effort for them?
In brief, if someone is better at something that someone should be in a better position when applying for a job, competing in any sport, applying for a scholarship or intending to publish an article. If they aren’t good enough, c’est la vi. However, to use any other excuse to jump the queue or to use other people’s effort is simply cheating. We’re all different and that’s how we grow, from these differences. Why should we all be the same? We’re free beings with the ability to think, to dream, to do. Don’t let anyone take you an opportunity because you’re white or black, straight or gay, part of a majority or a minority. If you’re better at something, you’re. There’s nothing to be ashamed of. There’s nothing to compensate. Because to be different is fine. However, it isn’t fine to use that difference in order to improve your relative position if that has nothing to do with the situation (i.e. I receive the scholarship even though my average is low in comparison to others only because I’m LatinAmerican).
To distribute justly one must be fair. In order to be fair, differences must be acknowledged and respected. Thus, these differences ought not to be considered in circumstances in which they don’t make any difference.

Kant

In order to understand Kant’s way of thinking we have to remember that although it may seem important what we ought to do due to a rule or norm, it is more what we have to do according to intrinsic elements. “A good will is not good because of what it effects or accomplishes […] that is, good in itself ”. For instance, when we decide not to harm or steal someone it should not be because we would otherwise receive a sanction but because we know that actions are by all means wrong: “[…] its true function must be to produce a will which is good; not as a means to some further end, but in itself […] ”.

Of course here Kant is developing his ideas in two levels: law and moral. One prerequisite to analyze any possible situation is that the actions carried out by the subject must be autonomous. “Autonomy of the will is the sole principle of all moral laws and of the duties conforming them; any heteronomy of the power of choice, on the other hand, not only is no basis for any obligation at all but is, rather, opposed to the principle of obligation and to the morality of the will ”.

The problem of freedom will be present throughout his work (as we shall see). “The will is a kind of causality belonging to living beings in so far as they are rational, and freedom would be this property of such causality that it can be efficient ”. We can classify the causes in necessary and efficient. Necessary causes are all the ones needed in order to obtain a final result (i.e.: each and every subject within the career of law to achieve a law degree); efficient cause is the outcome itself (i.e.: in the example given, the degree).
From the above we can follow that “[…] we must attribute to every rational being which has will that is has also the idea of freedom and acts entirely under this idea ”. In other words, so to have a subject morally and legally speaking acting in any of these normative spheres it is a necessary condition that he is a rational being with understanding of his/her actions and omissions and his/her will is free from any external constriction.
In Kant’s own words: “I must regard itself as the author of its principles independent on foreign influences. Consequently as practical reason or as the will of a rational being it must regards itself as free, that is to say, the will of such a being cannot be a will of its own except under the idea of freedom ”.

The author includes at this point the notion of duty: but not as a legal obligation that prescribes the way the rational beings have to behave under certain circumstances. His concept of duty is intimate linked with the idea of freedom already explained. He “[…] therefore take[s] up the concept of duty, which includes that of a good will, exposed, however, to certain subjective limitations and obstacles. […] [T]he greater part of mankind […] protect their lives in conformity with duty, but not from the motive of duty ”.

As it may well seem a word game, it is not within his theory and will be key for the understanding of his later developments. Every single action and/or omission may have legal and/or moral consequences. Once again he asks us to separate the act/omission itself from the outcome: “[a]n action done from duty has its moral worth, not in the purpose to be attained by it, but in he maxim according with which it is decided upon; it depends therefore, not on the realisation of the object of the action, but solely on he principle of volition in accordance with which, irrespective of al objects of the faculty of desire, the action has been performed ”.

Do you behave rightly because you know is right or in order to avoid something?

Quotes from Kant, Immanuel (1976), The moral law, translated by H. J. Paton, Hutchinson of London; Kant, Immanuel, Critique of practical reason (2002), translated by W. S. Pluhar, , Hackett Publishing Company Inc., Indianapolis/Cambridge; Kant, Immanuel, Selections (1929), edited by T. Meyer Greene, London, Charles Scribner’s Sons Ltd., 1929.

Shared sovereignty over Falkland islands

There have been and are several worldwide attempts of a global organization from a legal, social, economic, etc. point of view. The best example is still the European Union. We also have other similar intents in Asia (ASEAN), South America (MERCOSUR), Africa (OUA or UA), America (OAS) to name a few.
We could go into detail and revise each of them and their structure. However, we do not need to know much about them so to realize that they are in each and every case regional organizations. Although the European Union could be considered as the most evolved of them from a legal and economic point of view, it is still regional.

The globalization process started a while ago. People that are not longer nationals of a State but citizens of the world are no longer an exception. Cities as London and New York and countries as England are the best paradigms. The latter provides a key example at this point: the archbishop of Canterbury raised controversy in February 2008 by suggesting that the United Kingdom had to consider allowing Muslims to decide disputes under Sharia by creating ‘plural jurisdiction’.

In brief, we do have international organizations and what we may call super States. Is that enough to be referring to the phenomenon of globalization? It is not. In order to have a real exercise on the issue we would without doubt ask at least interference between different territories, cultures, religions, legal systems, etc. from different points in the world.

The Falkland/Malvinas islands offer an excellent base to depart. Their territory has been disputed between Argentina and the United Kingdom for almost 200 years. With a population of about 2900 inhabitants, they have also territory, legal system and a government (currently under British legal hierarchy).

Without entering here into the historical references about the dispute between Argentina and the United Kingdom we shall discuss now the actual elements that we consider interesting for a case study. We have all the necessary requisites to be dealing with the notion of State and dual sovereignty at the same time: two sovereign States and one common territory under international dispute. Moreover (and that is one of the most important factors) the two involved States are in two different continents and both are part of different regional organizations.

We shall now detail the key factors we find following our notion of State within the frame of the case study under revision.
Having defined State as a group of people (population) located in a certain land (territory) ruled by the same authority (government) under the same norms (law) we have:

a) population: the Argentinean citizens; the British citizens; the islanders (currently, British citizens). In the hypothetical case we had dual sovereignty over the islands, the only ones affected would be the islanders. In that case, they would have to be granted dual nationality (Argentinean-British) with the implication of having the same rights and obligations any of the formers have in their States. There are several cases worldwide with citizens having more than one nationality. Even Argentina and the United Kingdom are good examples of this phenomenon.

b) territory: physically the territory would be exactly the same as nowadays. The difference would be that Argentina and the United Kingdom would share the sovereignty over the land and the maritime. There would be an overlap of sovereignty so it would be necessary to negotiate between both parties the geographical limits of the maritime space and its exploitation as well as the exploitation of the land.
c) government: the administrative authorities of the islands could perfectly continue their activities. They are currently following British procedures so if it was more beneficial for the islanders to continue with them that should not be an obstacle. The difference could arise with the following element (law) in matters of justice, appeals (jurisdictional and administrative, etc.).

d) law: as Kelsen would suggest, we would have two different legal structures or systems of norms: the Argentinean law and the British law. Without analyzing them in detail so to establish if they are similar or diverse, we have in any case two groups of sovereign norms.
Under this theoretical dilemma we visualize two options: 1) the creation of a third system of norms that coordinate the Argentinean and the British legal systems in cases in which the islanders are the subjects or issues occurred within the islands territory; b) to leave the decision to the interpretation of the Judge in each case in any branch of law.
What about the appeal cases? Which one would be the ultimate authority: the Higher Court in Argentina or in the United Kingdom?

The elements to start working are there. The theories to support the enterprise are there. The population of the three international agents is there. What are the governments waiting for then?