A viral song has become the latest battlefield in the culture wars. And the UK's man in San Juan has filed a rather anxious note back to the Foreign Office.
The cultural attaché, a career diplomat who usually reports on carnival dates and trade missions, has instead flagged the explosive impact of a track sweeping Puerto Rico. The song, its lyrics dripping with political defiance, has become an anthem for a new generation. But it is the reaction in Washington that has Whitehall worried.
The attaché's dispatch, seen by this bureau, warns that the song is 'reshaping how Puerto Ricans see themselves and their relationship with the United States.' It notes a spike in independence conversations on the island, particularly among voters under 30. The report lands on desks already cluttered with Brexit fallout. No one wants another territory questioning its future.
Of course, the Foreign Office is staying tight-lipped. 'We do not comment on leaked correspondence,' a spokesman said, a well-worn phrase that here means 'we are alarmed.' The song has apparently been played at protests and shared by celebrities. Its chorus is a simple demand: 'Decídete' – decide.
The timing is awkward. The UK is trying to deepen trade ties with the US and its territories. A destabilised Puerto Rico is not part of the plan. Yet the attaché's report suggests the British Council's cultural programmes have inadvertently amplified the song's reach. A music workshop funded by UK taxpayers helped produce the beat. That is the kind of detail that gets questions tabled in the Commons.
Whitehall sources say the minister for the Americas has been briefed. The concern is not the song itself but the precedent. If a viral hit can shift political sentiment, what else can? The report warns of a 'digital contagion' that no amount of diplomacy can contain. It recommends more cultural engagement, a classic bureaucratic move to turn a problem into a spending request.
Backbench MPs with Caribbean heritage are already asking questions. One told me, 'We should be careful. The empire strikes back in strange ways.' The irony is palpable: a British diplomat is worried about a song from a former Spanish colony, now a US territory, causing trouble. That is the sort of geopolitical ping-pong that makes lobby correspondents smile.
The song itself is a banger, to use the technical term. Its reggaeton beat is infectious. But the lyrics are sharp: 'Ya no somos colonia, somos nación.' We are no longer a colony, we are a nation. For a UK official, that hits close to home.
So what do Puerto Ricans think? The attaché's report includes polling: 67% of respondents said the song made them feel 'proud' but 45% said it made them 'more likely to consider independence.' That is a dangerous split for a territory reliant on US aid. The Foreign Office is now trying to distance itself from the production. Good luck with that. The internet never forgets.
The real story is the dance between diplomacy and pop culture. A memo, a melody, a mood. And a UK diplomat stuck in the middle, trying to explain to his superiors that a song is more powerful than a dozen despatches. In the game of politics, sometimes the beat drops harder than a cabinet reshuffle.
