The Rock Doesn't Move

The citizens of Gibraltar, a strategically placed rock about 11 times the size of the Washington Mall, went to the polls on Thursday, where they voted overwhelmingly to remain subjects of Great Britain. This would be fine if Gibraltar were located in London or Cornwall or Scotland. Unfortunately, it's at the southern tip of Spain.

The English enclave—conquered in 1704, formally ceded in 1713, and transformed from a garrison to a colony in 1830—is the sorest spot in British-Spanish relations, and the two nations' governments are closer than ever to adopting some sort of joint sovereignty. The loudest opposition to this comes from the Gibraltans themselves, one of whom reacted to the possibility with a fiery rant against "English traitors" and "our fascist next door neighbours."

It may seem odd, after a century of nationalist upheavals, to see a colony fighting to stay a colony, especially when the alternative is not, say, rule by Communist China, but rule by easygoing Spain. But Gibraltar is an unusual case: Its population overwhelmingly identifies with the colonizers, with nary a colonized in sight. It's all Brits and no Zulus, all cowboys and no Indians. The English and Spanish have publicly resolved that this week's vote carries no weight, but privately, they may well take it to heart.

Why should the rest of us care? Because at a time when nationalist conflicts still kill in places like Kashmir and the West Bank, it's reassuring to see a place where such a battle seems so…trivial. Gibraltar is a relic of an imperial past. Perhaps it could also be a harbinger of a post-imperial future, where people can belong to whatever polity they please, where odd enclaves are tolerated and geographic contiguity isn't so special.

Or perhaps Spain and Britain will honor the high-handed traditions of their imperial pasts, and simply ignore the vote.