Panama The General Who Won't Go

By Jill Smolowe

All week long, while his rebellious country simmered, General Manuel Antonio Noriega, the besieged ruler of Panama, calmly went about preparing for the wedding of one of his three daughters, Sandra. In a Latin equivalent of the royal wedding, she was to marry the son of a general of the Dominican Republic at a lavish Sunday ceremony. The wedding, however, did not come off as planned. Instead, Sandra was married without fanfare at midweek, evidently to avoid the demonstrations that have become an almost daily feature of life in Panama City, the country's steamy capital.

The hastily rearranged nuptials seemed to sum up the frustrations and fears that have dominated Panama for weeks. The current unrest began last month, when charges of corruption were publicly leveled against Noriega by his former second in command. First, in response to a wave of antigovernment protesters, authorities imposed a 19-day state of emergency, which was lifted two weeks ago. Next, riot police were sent into the streets to stop opposition forces from mounting regular protest rallies. Last week the government unleashed its latest weapon in the fight to keep Panama from boiling over: a presidential decree that prohibits all public protests and rallies.

Only three days after the ban, thousands of Panamanians defiantly took to the streets of the capital. Their demand: dump General Noriega, who is not only the country's military commander but its de facto dictator. The government responded with determination. As helicopters monitored events from ! above, hundreds of riot police fanned out through the streets, controlling the crowds with nightsticks, tear gas and volleys of bird shot. Several people were hurt, none of them seriously. As the government digested the latest threat to its authority, concern was growing in Washington that one of the closest U.S. allies in the hemisphere was headed for a long period of instability.

Though the anti-Noriega crowds have at times seemed impressive in a country of only 2.2 million people, neither the opposition nor the government is unified. One government rift became apparent last week, when Vice President Roderick Esquivel called upon President Eric Arturo Delvalle to form a commission to look into allegations that have implicated Noriega in murder, drug trafficking and election fraud. Esquivel's maneuver was a rebuke to the civilian President, who a few days earlier had publicly told his Attorney General to investigate the charges. Opposition forces objected that the Attorney General was under Noriega's influence. By siding with the opposition, Esquivel publicized a split within the governing ranks wide enough to drive several truckloads of protesters through.

The man around whom all the controversy swirled remained unflustered. Noriega, 49, shows no signs of being intimidated by the outcries against his rule, either from his fellow citizens or from the increasingly hostile Reagan Administration. The U.S. first began distancing itself from the Panama government after a 1984 presidential election that prompted widespread charges of ballot fraud. The process continued two years later, when a New York Times investigative report alleged that Noriega was involved in smuggling drugs and weapons, laundering money and supplying U.S. intelligence secrets to Cuba. During the past year, officials in Washington have repeatedly called for Panamanian "democracy," a diplomatic code word for Noriega's ouster. During a meeting last week with a Panamanian emissary, Assistant Secretary of State Elliott Abrams again sounded the theme, calling for a series of steps that would lead "to a fully functioning democracy."

In many ways, the story seems a familiar one: amid mounting evidence of civil abuses, excessive patronage and corruption, a U.S.-backed dictator is faced with increasing domestic unrest and demands for his resignation. Washington then steps in, urging the despised leader to go quietly into the night. The dictator battles on until defeat is unavoidable, then flees in search of asylum or, in the recent case of South Korea, finally gives in to opposition demands for reform. The basic scenario has been played out, with variations, in Iran, Nicaragua, the Philippines and Haiti. It may be a while, however, before it turns out that way in Panama. U.S. State Department officials admit with regret that Noriega stands at least an even chance of hanging on.

The general's greatest asset is his position as head of Panama's 12,000- strong Defense Force. Since he became commander in chief in 1983, Noriega has craftily surrounded himself with cronies who share a stake in his continued rule. Sullen and sarcastic, the general enjoys almost unwavering loyalty from his officers. Thus far, there is no sign that the military hierarchy is prepared to turn against him. Just as important, on the civilian side no political leader has emerged to present an obvious alternative to Noriega's rule.

Noriega also juggles several seemingly antagonistic goals. He has courted American goodwill, particularly at times when U.S.-Panamanian relations are souring. Predictably, a high-level envoy was dispatched to Washington last week to soothe bad feelings following attacks by government-sponsored mobs on the U.S. embassy in Panama City. Simultaneously, Noriega has resorted to a tactic he has used before when under attack: fanning anti-American sentiment in Panama. In response to the recent charges of criminal activity, Noriega retorted that the allegations were designed to allow the U.S. to welsh on a 1977 treaty that in the year 2000 would give Panama the important U.S.-built canal that bisects the country. He has also charged the U.S. with interference in Panamanian affairs, playing not only to leftist audiences at home but to Cuba and Nicaragua as well. Panama's ambitions to be a major player in the region require that it maintain good relations with regimes of all political stripes.

Noriega has also shrewdly maintained cordial ties with the U.S. intelligence community based in Panama. An ingratiating host, he has allowed U.S. operations to proceed virtually unfettered. Some 10,000 military personnel are attached to the Panama-based U.S. Southern Command, Washington's military headquarters and prime listening post for Latin America. From SOUTHCOM, the U.S. can dispatch spy planes to overfly Nicaragua, monitor sensitive communications and military movements in the region and ensure the canal's smooth operation. As Panama's former intelligence chief, Noriega has ( also worked intimately with the Central Intelligence Agency. Says a State Department official: "The general figures his work with the agency is his insurance."

Noriega has not made many miscalculations during his career. The son of poor parents, he studied medicine for a year at Panama University. When he won a scholarship for studies at a military academy in Peru, he changed paths quickly. Upon graduation in 1962, the youth signed on with the Panama National Guard as a first lieutenant. He supported the 1968 coup that brought General Omar Torrijos to power. In 1970, after helping to quash a coup attempt against Torrijos, Noriega was made the head of Panama's intelligence services.

Over the next 13 years as intelligence chief, Noriega acquired a host of enemies and earned the unaffectionate nickname "Pineapple Face," after his acne-scarred complexion. Not least on his enemies list is Colonel Roberto Diaz Herrera, 49, a Torrijos cousin whose own professional climb was blocked by Noriega's rapid promotion. Upon his forced retirement last month as second in command of the Defense Forces, Diaz summoned reporters to his home and charged Noriega with several crimes, including helping to arrange the 1981 plane crash in which Torrijos was killed. Last week Diaz deflected several summonses to appear at the Attorney General's office and lodge formal charges against Noriega.

While it is uncertain that Diaz's charges will get a fair hearing, his allegations have already received some unexpected backing. Shortly after Diaz spoke out against Noriega, former President Nicolas Ardito Barletta publicly charged that Noriega had forced him from office in 1985. Barletta claimed his ouster had been engineered by Noriega after Barletta had pressed for an investigation into the killing of Dr. Hugo Spadafora, a leading critic of the Panamanian military. Diaz has gone further, charging Noriega with masterminding Spadafora's murder.

The public accusations have lent weight to long-circulating rumors. Evidence of extortion, secret arms sales and drug trafficking remains largely circumstantial, encouraged by Noriega's three spacious houses, his art collection and his frequent holidays in France, all of which he enjoys on a military salary.

With Panama in turmoil and U.S.-Panamanian relations at their lowest ebb since the rancorous canal negotiations, the outcome is anything but certain. A Philippines-style ending, with Noriega slinking into premature retirement, seems unlikely at this point. The U.S. has far less leverage over the general than it did over Ferdinand Marcos, since Panama receives significantly less U.S. aid and its service-based economy is in relatively healthy condition, although some nervous bankers have recently withdrawn funds. Panama's opposition is largely fragmented and directionless, unlike its counterpart in South Korea.

Noriega's continued rule troubles the Reagan Administration for two reasons. First, the White House justifies its support for the contra rebels primarily by pointing to Nicaragua's lack of democracy. Administration credibility would suffer if the U.S. appeared to be too cozy with dictators. Second, Noriega's attempts to whip up anti-American sentiment and to court countries hostile to the U.S. raise worries about the Panama Canal's future. "Can you imagine what it would be like to have the canal in the hands of a Lebanon-like country?"asks a U.S. official. Whatever pressure the U.S. decides to bring, one thing is evident. Says Gabriel Lewis Galindo, a former Panamanian diplomat who heads the opposition's lobbying effort in Washington: "There will be no peace in Panama as long as Noriega is in power."

With reporting by Ricardo Chavira/Washington and John Moody/Panama City