Looking beyond Noriega

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Looking beyond NoriegaAuthor(s): Richard MillettSource: Foreign Policy, No. 71 (Summer, 1988), pp. 46-63Published by: Washingtonpost.Newsweek Interactive, LLCStable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/1148903 .

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LOOKING BEYOND NORIEGA

by Richard Millett

On February 5, 1988, the United States Attor-

ney for the Southern District of Florida an- nounced a 12-count indictment that charged General Manuel Antonio Noriega, the commander in chief of Panama's armed forces, with "exploiting his official position . . . to receive

payoffs in return for assisting and protecting international drug traffickers." Testifying that same week before the Senate, Jose Bland6n, a former close adviser to Noriega, implicated the general in a host of illegal activities and detailed links between the Panamanian strongman and the CIA, former National Security Council aide Lieu- tenant Colonel Oliver North, and the Defense

Department. Responding to growing domestic and interna-

tional pressures, Panama's president, Eric Arturo Delvalle, tried to remove the general as commander of the Panama Defense Forces (PDF).

Noriega, predictably, refused to leave and then used his control over the National Assembly to fire Delvalle, precipitating a major political crisis. All this focused American attention on Panama to a degree greater than at any time since the ratifi- cation of the Panama Canal treaties in 1977.

For the handful of North Americans who fol- low Panama closely, none of these developments came as a surprise. Nor were these developments new for Noriega's domestic opponents. Unwill-

ing to tolerate continued military domination, they had been escalating pressures for basic

changes in the political system, efforts that produced mass public demonstrations in summer 1987. This confrontation had polarized Panama- nian society and severely damaged the economy before February's events made the evening news.

The public debate over Panama raised a number of disturbing questions. How had this dete- rioration advanced so far before it drew serious attention in Washington? How could the CIA and

RICHARD MILLETT, a professor of history at Southern Illinois University at Edwardsville, has

test.fied before

Congress several times on Panamanian affairs.

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other agencies work closely with people deeply involved in narcotics trafficking? Should the United States force Noriega from power, and how could it do so? And how would the situation in Panama affect the future of the Panama Canal and U.S. interests throughout the Caribbean Ba- sin? These are important questions. But a preoc- cupation with them can distort the U.S. ap- proach to Panama and contribute to a prolonga- tion or intensification of the crisis.

To date, most discussion of policy options has mistaken Noriega as the cause rather than the

product of most of Panama's problems. All too

frequently the debate has fallen into the traditional North American mold of seeing Panama

simply as an adjunct to the canal. But Panama is more than that, and its problems go far beyond the machinations of any individual.

Eventually Noriega will fall, probably before the end of this year. Yet unlike the National Guard of the late dictator Anastasio Somoza De-

bayle's Nicaragua, Panama's military has an in- stitutional identity separate from Noriega. While officers are very reluctant to be moved by the United States and Panamanian civilians, there are limits on the price they will pay and on the amount of violence they will use against their own population to sustain any individual in

power. If, as seems likely, pressures continue to build steadily, they eventually will tell the general to go. U.S. policy will contribute to this re- sult; but unless carefully crafted, it can do dam-

age to Panama and its relations with the United States that will far outweigh the benefits of

slightly accelerating the general's departure. Noriega must be replaced before the underly-

ing domestic and foreign problems that plague Panama can be dealt with. But the real issues are the basic weaknesses in Panama's political, social, and economic structures-weaknesses that stem from the internal and external forces that have

shaped the country's recent past. Ever since it gained independence from Co-

lombia with the help of President Theodore Roosevelt in 1903, Panama's politics have been distorted by the massive influence of America and the U.S.-controlled canal. For decades the issue of sovereignty over the Canal Zone domi- nated national politics, providing a common ral- lying point for social and political groups that

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were deeply divided over other matters. The treaties signed by President Jimmy Carter and General Omar Torrijos Herrera in 1977, which will return control of the canal to Panama in 1999, removed the immediate issue. But left

largely untouched was a legacy of resentment and

dependence, a heritage of both blaming Washing- ton for national problems and looking to it for their solution.

In recent decades two other factors have distorted Panamanian politics. One is the influence of the erratic populist political leader Arnulfo Arias Madrid. Three times he was elected president of Panama, and on each occasion his tenure in office was quickly terminated by military intervention. In all probability he won a fourth election in 1984, but the military avoided the ne-

cessity of ousting him by manipulating the vote count. Born in 1901, Arias has been active in Panamanian politics for nearly 60 years. He has exhibited both a charismatic ability to rally popular support and an eclectic political philosophy that offers elements of nationalism, populism, racism (directed mainly against English-speaking Caribbean blacks), and opportunism. The first

military coup against him, in 1941, was strongly encouraged by the United States, which believed him sympathetic to Nazi Germany. In his mid- 80s, Arias still leads the largest opposition party. His influence is declining and he will soon pass from the scene, but his prolonged presence has forced many opponents of military domination to ally with him and has hampered others' efforts to rise to political prominence.

By promoting the ouster of Arias, the United States fostered the military's leading role in Pan- amanian politics. This was personified in the ca- reer of Torrijos, Panama's strongman from 1968 until his death in 1981. During this period Tor- rijos, like Arias, built political support through a mixture of populism and nationalism. But unlike Arias, he broke with traditional elites and sought support from the left. This lack of ties to elite families remains one of the distinguishing char- acteristics of the Panamanian military.

The most obvious legacy of the Torrijos years was the successful negotiations for the transfer of the canal. Unfortunately, Torrijos also left a tradition of military rule and political manipulation. He established the pattern of one-man domina-

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tion of the military, creating a highly pyramidal command structure with himself the only general, just one full colonel, and a handful of lieutenant colonels. Torrijos created an official political party, the Democratic Revolutionary party (PRD), to perpetuate his ideas and influence. However, he succeeded only in forming an op- portunistic, corrupt body covering a wide range of ideologies but incapable of mustering majority support and increasingly dependent on the mili-

tary for access to power and government positions.

Finally, his death in an airplane crash, without

any institutionalized means of succession in either the military or the political spheres, led to a bitter struggle for power. Since then the military has had three commanders and has ousted four civilian presidents (one other was allowed to fin- ish his term before departing). The inability to measure up to the exaggerated image of the fallen leader, the heritage of 12 years of systematic government efforts to undermine the political process, and the rising tide of corruption all ensured that stability and democracy would be difficult to obtain in post-Torrijos Panama.

Limited U.S. Options For the Reagan administration the confused

political situation posed a number of dilemmas. Panama's failure to make significant progress to- ward democracy handicapped efforts to portray Nicaragua as the only nondemocratic society in the area. Instability in Panama would complicate efforts to calm the region, divert attention and resources away from the ongoing conflicts in El Salvador and Nicaragua, and jeopardize U.S. use of Panamanian bases in support of the Nicara- guan rebels, the contras. But any effort to pressure Panama for changes risked arousing anti- American sentiments and increasing the influence of left-wing elements within its government.

Personalities and ideologies combined to limit U.S. options. Arias's presence at the head of the combined opposition ticket in the 1984 elections made the administration reluctant to support the opposition. Arias was considered unreliable and increasingly incapable of heading the government. It was generally accepted that his victory would trigger another military coup, something the administration strongly wished to avoid.

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The situation in the military was even worse. General Rub6n Dario Paredes had taken command of the PDF and was positioning himself for a run at the presidency. Previously considered conservative and eager to work with the United States, Paredes in 1983 became involved in a ma-

jor clash with then U.S. Ambassador Everett

Briggs. Suspicions emerged that this episode, which made Paredes look unreliable and incom-

petent, had been engineered by the military's long-time intelligence chief, Noriega. Despite close ties with the CIA and U.S. military intelli-

gence, Noriega was not widely trusted in Wash-

ington. His links to a wide variety of illegal activities, including drugs, prostitution, gambling, and arms smuggling, were well known, as was his

tendency to use his position as intelligence chief to obtain compromising information on others. A

popular story was that Noriega had three baskets on his desk: incoming mail, outgoing mail, and blackmail. The last was always overflowing.

Having undermined Paredes in Washington's eyes, Noriega was now in a position to replace him. Believing he had an arrangement with the other officers, Paredes, as the Panamanian Con- stitution requires, stepped down as military commander to run for president in 1984. As the senior colonel, Noriega took his place and quickly put his own adherents in key positions. Then, with the support of the PRD, he pulled the rug out from under Paredes, leaving his candidacy without government backing. Only a tiny, hast-

ily created party backed Paredes's campaign. Noriega had the PRD and a coalition of smaller

parties nominate an international banker with no discernible political support, Nicolis Ardito Bar- letta, as their candidate in the 1984 election. De- spite the military's backing, the government found it necessary to resort to fraud to secure a bare plurality for Barletta. Further vote manipulation and district gerrymandering secured an ab- solute majority of the National Assembly for the PRD and a two-thirds majority for the government coalition.

Although aware of evidence that the election had been rigged, the Reagan administration decided to treat Barletta as a legitimate democratic leader. This reflected both Arias's unpalatability and the administration's hope that if it worked with the new civilian leadership, the military's

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dominance could be reduced slowly to set the

stage for a more democratic election in 1989. It was obvious that Noriega's control of the PDF

posed a serious danger to this strategy, but concerns in this area were played down. The general's defenders in the CIA argued that he was too valuable an intelligence source to alienate and that any effort to squeeze him out would jeopardize a variety of covert programs in Central America.

While State Department officials were less san-

guine about Noriega's value and reliability, they shared with the Defense Department a pro- nounced fear of his chief rival within the PDF, its chief of staff, Colonel Roberto Diaz Herrera.

Dfaz Herrera was a cousin of Torrijos and saw himself as the logical inheritor of the Torrijos political mantle. He was perceived as purveying a

left-leaning, populist ideology with overtones of anti-Americanism. For the Reagan administration it was preferable to have someone in power like Noriega with no discernible principles than to have such posts filled by leftists. Noriega cul- tivated these fears. Despite deep personal animosities, he kept the colonel as his chief of staff for 4 years knowing that the United States would be extremely reluctant to move against him if it

thought that Diaz Herrera might succeed him.

Following Barletta's election Noriega and his cronies moved to expand their economic and political power, spreading the military's influence into new areas of government and expanding their already extensive legal and illegal business dealings. Meanwhile, Panama's national economy deteriorated, a process compounded by a massive debt burden that, on a per capita basis, was nearly two and one-half times greater than that of Brazil in 1985.

Noriega managed to maintain power without

resorting to the terror and massive human rights violations characteristic of so many Latin Amer- ican military governments. Potential opposition was intimidated in a number of ways: by economic pressures, occasional arbitrary arrests, the constant threat of press censorship, and the use of government-controlled mobs to attack opposition media.

This pattern was broken with the 1985 murder of Dr. Hugo Spadafora, a veteran of armed com- bat both with and against the Sandinistas and a

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long-time political foe of Noriega who had de- clared his intention to return to Panama with evidence of Noriega's involvement in narcotics traf-

ficking. His death precipitated a major political crisis. Already in political trouble because of his efforts to impose economic austerity, Barletta made the fatal mistake of indicating possible support for an independent investigation of Spadafo- ra's death. He was quickly called back from meet-

ings in the United States, taken into prolonged closed-door sessions with military leaders, and forced to resign. To maintain a semblance of con- stitutional order, the first vice president, Del- valle, a member of the small, business-oriented

Republican party that had allied with Barletta and the PRD, was sworn in to succeed him.

Briggs, who had tried to stave off the military's dismissal of Barletta, urged Washington to im-

pose sanctions in the wake of these events. The administration did take a few small steps and made its displeasure known. Still, fears of insta-

bility and of undermining pro-contra operations combined with the unwillingness to risk Diaz Herrera's assumption of power to keep such efforts limited and ineffective. Domestic critics, however, were not so easily silenced. Protests over Spadafora's murder and the military's growing dominance continued, and the business com-

munity began to express growing concerns over the country's future.

Despite the rising political tensions during 1986 and early 1987, Panama's economy began to show signs of recovery. And despite congres- sional hearings focusing on Panama's internal situation, tensions in relations with the United States appeared to ease slightly. While refusing to

open up the political system and to enact basic reforms in banking secrecy laws-laws that made Panama a haven for money laundering-Noriega did make some concessions to the Reagan administration. He cooperated in training the contras and took part in a highly publicized joint effort, known as Operation Pisces, to curb money laundering. But in late May 1987 he made a major mistake. He forced Dfaz Herrera into retirement. The colonel responded with a series of sensa- tional public charges linking Noriega to the drug trade, to Spadafora's murder, and to the 1984 electoral fraud. The colonel even accused

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Millett

Noriega of having conspired with the United States to murder Torrijos.

Diaz Herrera's statements unleashed a storm of

protest. Business and civic leaders formed the National Civic Crusade and instituted a series of strikes and demonstrations designed to force

Noriega from power. The general responded by unleashing police on the demonstrators, censor-

ing the media, and closing the schools and uni- versities. Dfaz Herrera was arrested, held until he withdrew most of his charges, and then flown into exile. Relations with the United States deteriorated rapidly as Noriega tried to blame his

problems on American efforts to abrogate the canal treaties and maintain military bases in Pan- ama beyond the year 2000.

For the Reagan administration it was preferable to have someone in power like Noriega with no discernible principles than to have such posts filled by leftists.

On June 30, a government-organized mob at- tacked and damaged the U.S. embassy. Several U.S. servicemen were arrested on trumped-up charges of inciting riots, and American citizens were repeatedly harassed by Panamanian police on their way to and from work. The administration, with strong support from Congress, sus-

pended military and economic assistance. In re-

sponse, Noriega and the puppet government or- dered the U.S. Agency for International

Development mission out of Panama. As the crisis continued, the economy worsened, undermin-

ing both the government and the economic base of the civic opposition.

The ousting of Diaz Herrera removed some restraints on U.S. pressures, but several problems remained. No clear alternative existed to the Delvalle administration, which throughout 1987 continued its obsequious defense of Noriega. The

general continued to exploit American fears of possible leftist influences by threatening to turn to the Soviet Union and Libya for support. Cu- ba's Fidel Castro and Nicaragua's Daniel Ortega Saavedra rushed to defend Noriega, charging that he was the victim of "U.S. imperialism." Panama gave the Soviet airline Aeroflot permis-

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sion to begin airline service between Panama and the USSR and spread rumors that prolonged U.S.

pressures could lead to granting port-visit rights to Soviet naval vessels.

Meanwhile, Noriega's supporters charged that his domestic opponents were upper-class tools of the United States. The political use of class and racial animosities was nothing new in Panama; Arias and Torrijos had exploited similar feelings for years. That much of the National Civic Cru- sade's leadership is drawn from upper- and mid- dle-class white families appears to give some

credibility to government charges that the rabi- blancos (a derisive term literally meaning "white tails") are encouraging disturbances in a bid to restore their former control of Panamanian politics. The prominent presence of black Panamani- ans among the PDF's higher officers and in the PRD leadership, as well as the relative scarcity of blacks and Asians in the opposition's leadership, further enhances the government's ability to portray the internal conflict as a class and race struggle and the opposition as a group with which

poorer Panamanians cannot identify. Fear of Arias's racial politics makes it easier for such claims to gain currency. Government social programs, including highly publicized PDF parties for poor children shortly before Christmas, at- tract a few other adherents for Noriega.

Except for those on the government payroll, however, most Panamanians give little credibility to government claims. In July 1987 a poll by a

Gallup affiliate showed that nearly 80 per cent believed that it would be difficult to hold honest elections while Noriega remained in power. Also, a clear majority favored his resignation. Despite the deep race and class divisions in Panamanian

society, the constant identification of the opposition with white elite families has won few supporters for the government. Still, it does help keep many Panamanians on the sidelines, alien- ated and apathetic.

The nature and traditions of Panamanian society also worked against efforts to oust Noriega by the National Civic Crusade and the opposition parties. Since independence, Panama has avoided major civil wars and insurrections. Political violence has been limited, a tradition that made Spadafora's murder seem particularly threatening. As the Christian Democratic party leader

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Ricardo Arias Calder6n expressed it, "Panama is a transactional, not a confrontational society." Such attitudes favor those most willing and able to use force to defend their interests, a category into which Noriega and his supporters obviously fall. At the same time, however, the government's use of force so far has been largely limited to water cannon, tear gas, shotgun pellets, beat-

ings, and arbitrary arrests. With all the turmoil in Panama in winter and spring 1988, the casualty total has remained amazingly low.

If opposition leaders have found it difficult to muster effective mass support, they have had even less success in separating Noriega from the PDF's officer corps. Noriega constantly cam-

paigns to convince the military that attacks on him are attacks on the institution as a whole. The structure of the officer corps also slows efforts to drive a wedge between Noriega and the military. While not as pyramidal as in Torrijos's time, the PDF still has a smaller group of high-ranking officers than any other Latin American military. The PDF still functions with only 1 general- Noriega-6 colonels, and 13 lieutenant colonels. The abortive March 1987 coup attempt by Colo- nel Leonidas Macias and several majors further

depleted these numbers. Like their commander, most high-ranking of-

ficers have enriched themselves through shady business and political dealings. In addition, they are watched closely. Those whose loyalty is in

question are likely to find themselves posted abroad as military attaches or students. During the current crisis Noriega reportedly changed the

bodyguards of several officers, placing in these

positions soldiers who report directly to him.

Any effort by officers to meet together without

Noriega's knowledge thus is virtually impossible, making any widespread organized plot against him extremely difficult. And, as Macias discov- ered, moving without such support is a very risky business.

Panama has no military academy; most officers are sent abroad for basic military education. There are no common graduating classes for officers, a factor that greatly influences internal military politics in most of Latin America. In- stead, ties tend to form among officers of various generations who studied in the same country. Noriega, for example, graduated from Peru's mil-

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itary academy and has favored officers with a similar background. Junior officers find it wise to attach themselves to a senior officer who can influence assignments and promotions. This cre- ates vertical, rather than horizontal, ties of loyalty, making it more difficult for younger officers to break with the high command. In times of crisis, junior officers are also gathered together in media-covered pep rallies at which they ritually declare total support for the general and de- nounce his enemies.

The use of U.S. troops would be the ultimate admission of Washington's failure, not a means of making U.S. policies successful.

With the opposition having difficulty generat- ing mass support and the PDF maintaining at least the appearance of unity behind Noriega, the United States found it difficult to exert effective

pressures for change. So attacking the economy became a tempting alternative. The 1987 political upheavals already had produced a negative economic performance for the year rather than the

positive 3 to 4 per cent growth projected before June. Construction had virtually stopped, government revenues were down, capital had begun to flee, and doubts were being expressed about the future of the banking sector.

A cutoff of U.S. economic assistance in July and the suspension of the sugar quota in Decem- ber aggravated Panama's economic woes. The in- dictments of the general and some of his associ- ates and the break between Delvalle and Noriega further undermined business confidence. When the administration in March 1988 decided to withhold payments of canal revenues from

Noriega's regime and began to block transfers from U.S. banks to Panama, the country began to run out of money. Panama's use of the U.S. dollar as its currency makes it especially vulner- able to American economic pressures. For one thing it ensures that the regime cannot gain a

respite from such pressures by inflating the currency. In addition, because the economy is dependent on service industries and on Panama's location as a convenient transit point for trade and travel throughout the hemisphere, it is vul-

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nerable to the threat of political violence and in-

stability. Economic pressures can, and very likely will,

accelerate Noriega's fall. They contribute to public opposition to the regime, which in turn leads to breaks in the ruling coalition. When the government began to talk about having to lay off workers because of the budget crisis, labor's support for the regime declined precipitously. The Government Employees Union even threatened to retaliate by publishing a list of the hordes of

political supporters and relatives of high officials who were on the payroll but never came to work.

Ultimately a retrograde economic situation threatens the PDF's unity as officers realize that continued support for the general threatens their own economic interests.

But squeezing the economy is not a strategy without risks. Economic damage is not discrimi- nate. The poor will suffer before the rich; the

military will be the last to see its pay halted; and the business sectors that lead the opposition may be injured permanently. Economic damage is much harder to repair than to inflict; and it is doubtful that the United States, especially in an election year, will be willing to appropriate funds to refurbish Panama's economy. In the long run those Panamanians who now oppose Noriega for economic rather than political motives may blame

Washington for their future economic hardships. Moreover, economic pressures may produce

unintended consequences. The Carter-Torrijos treaties imposed an obligation on the Panama Ca- nal Commission and U.S. forces to purchase Pan- amanian goods and services. A trade embargo would therefore violate the treaties. Once such clauses were violated, the United States would be in a poor position to complain if Panama later ignored treaty provisions.

To date, fortunately, Noriega's attempt to portray himself as a victim of American intervention has had limited success, but such efforts will continue. On the international front, Noriega would like to convince the world community that his problems arose from a conflict with the United States rather than from a popular rejection of his rule. Latin American governments, few of which have any sympathy for Noriega, are particularly sensitive in this area. In July 1987, after the U.S. Senate had passed a resolution calling for Noriega

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to step down while charges against him were be-

ing investigated, the Organization of American States promptly adopted a resolution critical of outside interference in Panama's internal affairs. This action embarrassed the administration and

encouraged Noriega. Following the break with Delvalle, most Latin American governments became more willing to use diplomatic pressures against Panama. U.S. actions such as withhold-

ing canal payments did not arouse serious criti- cism from democratic allies. But they still are far from willing to sign a blank check for the United States to use any means it feels necessary to speed the general's departure.

Despite real limits on U.S. leverage, the situation in Panama can be ignored only at the risk of

repeating the kinds of disorders that have swept Haiti, Iran, Nicaragua, and the Philippines. This would threaten U.S. security interests in Panama that center on, but are not confined to, the canal. U.S. investments in Panama alone, largely in

banking and shipping, exceed in value those in the rest of Central America. Forty thousand Americans, both civilian and military, live and work in Panama. When relations with the United States slip, these Americans are virtually held

hostage to developments. Since the abolition of the Canal Zone, thousands find it necessary to live in areas totally under Panamanian government control.

The U.S. military operates numerous schools in Panama and conducts logistic and intelligence operations from there. Their relocation would be difficult and disruptive. Upheaval in Panama would further complicate efforts to stabilize the Central American region. Finally, U.S. prestige is connected to events in Panama, as is the cred-

ibility of American antinarcotics programs. These factors give Panama a peculiar resonance

in U.S. domestic politics. Turmoil in Panama, especially during an American election year, be- comes an issue on which candidates seem com- pelled to make pronouncements, no matter how uninformed or ill-advised they may be. Calls for U.S. military intervention, suggestions that the CIA get the PDF's officers to topple Noriega, and threats to abrogate the Panama Canal treaties may play well to some domestic audiences. How- ever, they do nothing to advance a serious exam- ination of the issue, and they provide ammuni-

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tion for Noriega to claim that he is the victim of a gringo plot. Obviously, if canal operations are

seriously threatened, if the government attempts to take Americans hostage, or if order breaks down so completely that the lives of Americans and those opposed to Noriega are placed in im- minent jeopardy, then the United States might have to use military force. But this must be a last resort. The use of U.S. troops would be the ultimate admission of Washington's failure, not a means of making U.S. policies successful.

Panama's Future

While the United States can neither control nor ignore events in Panama, it can all too easily delude itself that Noriega's removal will solve its

problems in that country. It will not. The United States has neither the ability nor the right to create a political system in Panama that responds automatically to U.S. interests. Paradoxically, the strength of American ties and interests in Panama ensures a role for anti-American senti- ment in national politics. In addition, so long as American narcotics consumption remains high, money from that trade will be a corrupting influence in Panama and a potentially disruptive element in bilateral relations. And, most basic, the

damage done to Panama's political system over the past two decades is so great and the divisions within that society so profound that no U.S. policy and no change of Panamanian leadership at the top will produce a rapid or complete cure. This will take years at best, and the danger of a reversal will be ever present.

The timing and manner of Noriega's departure-and the nature of his replacement-will affect Panama's ability to address the basic problems that produced this crisis. If the departure is

relatively rapid and nonviolent, then economic

prospects, at least, will be much better than if the stand-off persists for months, internal violence escalates, and positions become increasingly polarized.

The nature of the new PDF leadership will also be critical. Panama's future will be shaped by such factors as how many high-ranking officers leave with Noriega, what element within the PDF determines the new leadership, and how these officers deal with civilians. Other key issues in- clude: How will the new leadership handle the

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military's traditional ties with the PRD? What au-

thority, if any, will the civilian government have over the military, or will there even be a civilian

government? How will drug-related corruption be handled? None of these questions will be re- solved quickly or easily. But it is clear that cor-

ruption will not be eliminated.

Noriega's departure will also have a major im-

pact on Panama's 1989 elections. Should Noriega survive well into 1989 it would be virtually im-

possible to hold anything resembling real elections. The opposition undoubtedly would boy- cott any election organized by Noriega and the

puppet government of Manuel Solis Palma, whom the general selected to replace Delvalle. The election makes Noriega's removal even more

urgent for the United States and the Panamanian

opposition. Nonetheless, his departure alone will not ensure fair elections. The electoral code needs revision. The National Electoral Tribunal, a government entity that supervises registration, elections, and the certification of political parties and candidates, needs its power strengthened and its

membership changed. There is likely to be a confused struggle for

power, with the two leading parties in 1984, the PRD and Arnulfo Arias's Panamenistas, divided and at least partially discredited. Important new

leadership from the business sector and the political opposition, notably the Christian Democrats, has emerged in recent months. But its ability to coalesce and generate mass electoral support is untested. The elections could produce a divided

minority government that would have difficulty controlling the PDF and handling the country's pressing economic and social problems. And any government will have to confront an inefficient, corrupt bureaucracy packed with supporters of the previous regime.

Delvalle's split from Noriega created several new issues that will not be solved simply by re- moving the general. What should U.S. policy be if PDF officers remove Noriega but want to keep Solfs Palma? If Delvalle is restored, what hap- pens to the Panamanian Congress that tried to remove him? Would Delvalle be able to work with the opposition and generate the confidence necessary for elections in 1989? Clearly the issue of Noriega is simply the tip of the iceberg.

Policy must therefore look beyond Noriega to

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the creation of a viable political system in Panama free of military domination. What follows

Noriega is far more important than how fast he

departs. While any appearance of vacillation must be avoided, measures to promote his re-

placement need to be evaluated carefully and pa- tiently to minimize damage to Panama's economic structure and to avoid shifting the basic issue from one of internal Panamanian politics to one of U.S.-Panamanian relations.

In all dealings with Panama both the administration and Congress must avoid embracing any individual or political party, creating the impression of a detailed U.S. plan for Panama's future. U.S. policies to date create the impression that the Reagan administration is determined not only to remove the general but also to oust the PRD from power and to purge the officer corps of

Noriega's supporters. Noriega has craftily used this impression to undercut opposition within the PRD and the military, fostering the fear that those within these institutions who assist U.S. pressures against him will only be promoting their own political demise. That does not prevent Washington from making clear its preference for

democracy. Dialogue and mediation, possibly with the participation of the Roman Catholic hi-

erarchy, which has publicly called for basic

changes in Panama's political system, should be

encouraged. Still, the details must be left to Pan- amanians. A similar principle applies to the PDF. The key issue is the way that institution uses its

power, not the individuals at the top. Like the 1979 debacle of Somoza's National

Guard in Nicaragua, events in Panama should raise basic questions about U.S. dealings with Latin American armed forces. In Nicaragua and Panama the armed forces received extensive long- term U.S. assistance and training. Yet both became corrupt instruments of a single individual's greed and lust for power.

One common factor stands out: Both forces

joined police and military functions in a single body commanded by a unified officer corps. The lesson is obvious: Combining these functions does not clean up the police--it dirties the military. Separating these forces must be a high pri- ority in post-Noriega Panama. In addition, recent events underline the need for a Panamanian military academy.

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FOREIGN POLICY

Developments in Panama raise the specter that in 1999 the United States may face the dilemma either of turning over control of the canal to an unstable regime run by a corrupt, hostile military clique, or of violating the Carter-Torrijos treaties, an act that would disrupt relations across the hemisphere and make every genuine Panamanian nationalist a bitter foe of the United States. This

danger will remain after Noriega leaves. One way of avoiding this terrible choice is to encourage democratic change in Panama. Yet these efforts

may fail, and another Noriega may come to control the PDF and the country before the year 2000. Sadly, as long as narcotics and other illicit activities offer immense profits, that danger will remain very real. While U.S. policy must support democratic elements in Panama, it cannot become totally dependent on their success.

Earlier studies have identified numerous potential alternative routes that could handle most, if not all, of the Panama Canal's traffic. Develop- ing these routes would be expensive, but as the 1986 Traffic Sensitivity Report on the Canal pre- pared by the consulting firm Temple Barker and Sloane, Inc., indicates, the relative cost advan-

tage of the canal is likely to diminish over time.

By accelerating the study and planning for routes in Mexico, Colombia, Costa Rica, and the United States-from pipelines and roads to rail lines and new canals-the United States can reduce its vul- nerability to events in Panama. A loud message will have been sent to Panama's rulers: The costs of maintaining a militarized authoritarian system will be extremely high. But by also including studies of projects within Panama, such as a major widening of the canal, Washington can offer a

positive incentive-the prospect of jobs and in- come if the political order evolves democratically.

For junior officers the message will be particularly trenchant: If their superiors continue to

gorge themselves at the corruption trough, that trough may be empty when the current crop of captains and lieutenants takes over. The officers who will command the PDF in 1999 already are at least captains; the United States does not have the option of forcing the selection and training of a new officer cadre before it turns over the canal.

The United States should also begin to reduce the scope of military operations in Panama. Many high-ranking officers have recommended the

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Millett

eventual withdrawal of the U.S. Southern Com- mand's headquarters. This should be done after

Noriega's departure to avoid any appearance of

caving in to his demands, but it should be begun as soon as possible after that event. The move would deprive Panamanian authorities of holding American personnel hostage to events. It would also end the distortion of the command's mission, which occurs because it now must devote inordi- nate attention to internal events in one small

country. And the withdrawal would undercut efforts by the Latin American left to portray Wash-

ington's concerns over Panama as motivated by a desire to maintain U.S. bases there beyond the

year 2000. Difficult as it may seem, some good results

may emerge from this crisis. It may force the United States to take seriously the political and economic situation in Panama and to consider, while there is still time, how best to help that

country establish a more democratic and prosper- ous society that is fully capable of administering the canal in the next century. Moreover, it has focused attention on the menace the international trade in narcotics poses to the entire hemisphere, one whose capacity to undermine U.S. regional interests may exceed that of Cuba and the Soviet Union.

For those who look below the surface issues, this situation has underlined again the dangers of

relying on corrupt, antidemocratic forces to advance limited, short-range goals-such as sup- porting the contras. The more Washington dealt with Noriega, the more difficult it became to break with him. The more his illegal activities were covered up, the more difficult and embar-

rassing it became to admit what really was tran-

spiring in Panama. What began as an effort to use

Noriega in President Ronald Reagan's obsessive

campaign to undermine the Nicaraguan government ultimately degenerated into an ability by Noriega to manipulate U.S. policies. Fortu- nately, the patience of the Panamanian people was exhausted long before the administration re- alized the necessity of extricating itself from the general. Can the Panamanian actions now prod Americans to look beyond Noriega to the neces-

sity of helping Panama become a more democratic and open partner?

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Looking beyond Noriega

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Transcript of Looking beyond Noriega