Still in Charge

By John Greenwald

For days the rumors flew between the U.S. and Panama: a major shake-up was expected momentarily in the troubled Latin country. At 5:30 p.m. last Thursday, President Eric Arturo Delvalle, 51, appeared on nationwide television ahead of the evening news. Reading from a script, Delvalle told stunned viewers that he had asked for the resignation of General Manuel Antonio Noriega, 50, the military strongman who has run Panama for the past five years. Delvalle said he had requested Noriega to "voluntarily step aside" while the U.S. investigated drug-trafficking charges that federal grand juries in Miami and Tampa had brought against the general in early February. His remarks completed, Delvalle bade good evening to his fellow citizens, leaving them to wonder what would happen next.

They soon found out. Moving swiftly on Noriega's behalf, the National Assembly met in an emergency 1:15 a.m. session. In a ten-minute gathering attended by 38 of the body's 67 lawmakers, members voted unanimously to dismiss Delvalle, hitherto regarded as a Noriega puppet, and Vice President Roderick Esquivel. Though Delvalle insisted that he still held office, Education Minister Manuel Solis Palma, 71, was sworn in as President before dawn. Panama's military leaders left no doubt as to where they stood. Colonel Marcos Justines, whom Delvalle had named to succeed Noriega as chief of the Panamanian Defense Forces, flatly refused the job. "None of us wants to be commander," said a top officer. "Our commander is staying. The President is going. We all support Noriega."

The showdown spotlighted the drug-related crisis of authority that rages through Latin America. Accused of taking million-dollar payoffs in return for allowing narcotics to flow through Panama, Noriega is a graphic illustration of the power of drug lords to intimidate and corrupt the region's governments (see following story). The general is believed to be closely tied to a cocaine trade that begins in the jungles of South America and ends in U.S. neighborhoods from Boston to Beverly Hills. That has helped make Noriega a prime target for U.S. law-enforcement officials and diplomats, who want the general brought to justice and a democratic government in Panama. The U.S. halted economic and military aid to Panama last June, and has for months sought ways to force Noriega from power.

The latest attempt may have begun two weeks ago, when Delvalle met in Miami with Elliott Abrams, Assistant Secretary of State for Inter-American Affairs. Some sources said Abrams broached the idea of firing the strongman to remedy the political and economic crisis that has gripped Panama since anti-Noriega demonstrations took place last summer. According to one account, Abrams told Delvalle, "You know as well as I do that Mr. Noriega has to leave." Several days later Panamanian official asked Abrams whether the U.S. could withdraw the drug indictments against the general to induce him to step down. The answer: no deal.

Delvalle, meanwhile, had grown convinced that Noriega would have to go. But nothing suggested that the President had the nerve to sack the general. A graduate of Louisiana State University and a former sugar-company executive, Delvalle was Vice President in 1985, when Noriega fired President Nicolas Ardito Barletta. Associates say Delvalle has increasingly sought to become his own man. "He didn't want to go into history as a Panamanian who lacked the guts to do what his country needed," explains a close friend. "Delvalle was not pressured by the U.S. to do this. He was pressured by his conscience."

Returning to Panama certain that it would take government pressure to bring Noriega down, Delvalle taped his ten-minute address the day before it was shown. U.S. Ambassador Arthur Davis assured the President that he and his family could count on American protection after the speech aired. The day of the broadcast, Delvalle sent his wife and three children to live in the U.S. embassy. He went back to his modest one-story home, which was protected by Panamanian troops.

Within 24 hours, Delvalle was under virtual house arrest. His phone lines were cut, and police appeared on the street when he lived. By Saturday morning an officer who arrived to tell Delvalle to leave the country found that he had fled. Later Delvalle claimed in a phone interview that he was still in Panama and vowed to fight on.

In Washington the Reagan Administration firmly backed the failed effort to oust Noriega. "We want to reiterate our unqualified support for civilian constitutional rule in Panama," said White House Spokesman Marlin Fitzwater. With 10,000 troops at U.S. Southern Command headquarters in Panama, Washington is sensitive to charges that it seeks to bully its neighbor. Yet Vice President George Bush talked tough while campaigning in South Carolina for the Republican presidential nomination. "We're not going to be pushed around about the defense of the Panama Canal," Bush said. "We will do whatever is necessary to protect American interests."

In recent weeks American servicemen have come under increased harassment from their Panamanian hosts as tensions have mounted between the two countries. Authorities last week detained a group of U.S. military police for two hours without explanation. U.S. troops later went on a low-profile alert, said to be standard procedure when demonstrations are under way or expected.

Other signs of tension appeared. Ricardo Arias Calderon, president of Panama's anti-Noriega Christian Democratic Party, was held for 45 minutes at the Panama City airport when he arrived from Miami after Delvalle's speech. Calderon and his wife were forced to reboard the plane and exiled to neighboring Costa Rica. "I refused to go," Calderon said, "and then they started shoving me and eventually had to carry me onto the plane." Three U.S. journalists were also returned to their plane and sent to Costa Rica. Panama's principal opposition newspaper, La Prensa, and a TV station owned by the Delvalle family were closed.

The nation's streets were quiet. Washington had hoped that demonstrators would respond to Delvalle's address with "people power" mass protests like those that toppled Ferdinand Marcos in the Philippines. Whether out of apathy or fear of confronting Noriega's soldiers, Panamanians mostly stayed at home. "Everything is going pretty much according to plan," said a U.S. observer. "But where are the Panamanian people?" By Friday night all indications were that Noriega had never been in serious danger of losing power.

Yet the Reagan Administration remains convinced that Panama's increasing political and economic isolation will eventually force the general to step down. "Noriega can hang on for a long time," says a U.S. official, "but sooner or later the country is going to start paying very dearly for keeping him in power. It's at that point we'll see a change."

Perhaps. But some experts fear that the U.S. may press too hard on Panama and create sympathy for Noriega at home. "There's no pragmatism in any of this," says a former Panamanian official. "Of course Noriega needs to go. But, really, to have Administration officials tell reporters this and then indict him makes it impossible for him to step aside." The ex-official adds that whatever other qualities Noriega may possess, the Panamanian strongman has no end of stubborn pride.

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