The Least Essential Diplomatic Spats of 2021

As Patrick Kavanagh warned in his poem “Epic” (while channeling the ghost of Homer), local rows don’t always have to involve great leaders and heroic sacrifice to raise the blood pressure of those involved. Even though one should be careful in assigning weight to a diplomatic dispute, sometimes, the slights are, well, slight.

In a year of compiling Morning Brief, FP’s daily newsletter, I balance the news of the day with the weird, wonderful, and curious in our “Odds and Ends” section. There, you will find which large bird has bitten Brazilian President Jair Bolsonaro (most recently, a rhea) or who is the winner of New Zealand’s bird of the year competition (a bat).

But it’s not all animal hijinks and unusual Brexit shortages—sometimes borders are inadvertently threatened, national pride is put to the test, and alcohol branding becomes a pressing interstate concern.

Here are the five least essential diplomatic spats of 2021.

1. France and Russia bubble up over Shampanskoye

In July, France’s Champagne industry denounced a new Russian law forcing foreign importers to describe their products as “sparkling wine.” The law was introduced to ensure the term “Shampanskoye” refers to Russian producers only.

The Champagne Committee, the group representing the French champagne industry, urged its members to halt Russian shipments in protest and said it “deplores the fact that this legislation does not ensure that Russian consumers have clear and transparent information about the origins and characteristics of wine.” (The law required that French bottles only change their back labels.)

The boycott threat was moderately successful, with Russian authorities suspending the new law until Dec. 31—a big day for sparkling wine, whatever you call it.

2. The restaurant that stoked Japan-Korea tensions

In October, North Korea and South Korea united in anger over a controversial bowl of Japanese seafood curry after reports surfaced online of the dish’s subversive attempts to lay claim to a disputed group of islets between Japan and the Korean Peninsula. According to the Guardian, the meal—served by a restaurant on the Japanese island of Okinoshima—includes two rice clumps shaped into the disputed islands known in Japan as Takeshima (which Koreans refer to as Dokdo) with a miniature Japanese flag placed on top.

A North Korean news site said the dish was surely meant as a sign that Japan plans to “capture” the islands, while a South Korean newspaper reported the move was a “typical cheap trick” by the Japanese.

South Korea’s small military garrison on the islands make any surprise attack, beyond the culinary variety, unlikely.

3. Britain and Ukraine fall out over Chernobyl-made liquor

 In May, the makers of a craft liquor made from radioactive apples grown in the Chernobyl exclusion zone began a battle with the Ukrainian government, after authorities seized all 1,500 bottles of the product before it could be exported.

The drink, called Atomik, fell afoul of Ukrainian Security Service agents, who said the company used forged excise stamps, a claim the company’s founder, United Kingdom-based academic Jim Smith, disputed and eventually proved false in court.

4. Croatia and Italy butt heads over prosecco

A late and unresolved addition to the list, as Italian and Croatian winemakers spar over an impending European Union decision on whether to bestow a protected designation of origin label to a Croatian dessert wine. The disagreement is over branding, with the Croatian wine prosek considered too close to the Italian prosecco.

Luca Zaia, governor of prosecco-producing Veneto in Italy, has called the EU’s decision to consider the Croatian request “shameful” and said it risked destroying the “history and identity of a territory.”

5. The Belgian farmer who broke the Treaty of Kortrijk

A classic of the genre (and an FP Morning Brief English-language exclusive) arrived in May when Belgium inadvertently made a territorial gain over its neighbor after a local farmer moved a centuries-old stone marker delineating the Franco-Belgian border.

The farmer, from the Walloon municipality of Erquelinnes, moved the boundary stone roughly 6.5 feet to give his tractor easier passage, thereby breaking the Treaty of Kortrijk signed in 1820.

After good-natured talks with his French counterpart in the neighboring town of Bousignies-sur-Roc, Erquelinnes Mayor David Lavaux solved the diplomatic firestorm by asking the farmer to put the stone back where he found it. “He enlarged Belgium. He reduced France. It wasn’t a good idea. But I was happy that my town got bigger,” Lavaux joked.