http://www.iht.com/articles/2007/09/10/news/edbriggs.php

 


Our man in Panama 
By Everett Ellis Briggs

Monday, September 10, 2007 

NORFOLK, Connecticut: 

The deposed dictator of Panama, Manuel Antonio Noriega, was to have been 
released from a federal prison outside Miami on Sunday after serving 15 years 
of a 30-year sentence for narcotics trafficking. Instead, he remains behind 
bars, pending extradition to France, where he is wanted for money laundering. 
And that's not Noriega's only legal problem: In Panama there is a warrant for 
his arrest for the 1985 assassination of a political opponent, Hugo Spadafora.

As Noriega re-emerges from the shadows, it's worth remembering how badly the 
United States mishandled the Panamanian misadventure, which led to the loss of 
hundreds of lives and cost us politically throughout the region.

Noriega's rise and fall is instructive only insofar as it tells us how the 
United States should not conduct itself when faced with a thuggish foreign 
dictator who happens also to have been a longtime intelligence "asset."

I witnessed the Noriega fiasco firsthand. After years in charge of Panama's 
intelligence service, he ascended to power during my term as ambassador to 
Panama. Later, when I was ambassador to Honduras and then as a member of the 
National Security Council under President George H.W. Bush, I had bit parts in 
the unfolding drama.

This is my version of what happened in the years between the time he seized 
power and his capture in 1989.

In the summer of 1985, during Ronald Reagan's second term as president, I made 
a stopover in Mexico City to visit my friend Jack Gavin, the actor turned 
diplomat who was then the ambassador to Mexico. Ed Meese, the attorney general, 
also happened to be visiting, and the two of us dined with the Gavins.

I complained to Meese about the U.S. government's apparent unwillingness to 
investigate Noriega's involvement with the drug trade. Once or twice a month, 
Panamanians would ask members of my staff, "When are you guys going to do 
something about Noriega and his drug smuggling?" But whenever I asked my 
intelligence people or the Drug Enforcement Administration to investigate a 
particular story, invariably I was told there was nothing to the allegations.

Noriega's long relationship with our military and civilian intelligence 
services, and the drug agency's apparent satisfaction with the crumbs of 
cooperation it was getting from his Panamanian Defense Forces, were the only 
ways to explain Washington's apparent lack of curiosity, I suggested.

Meanwhile, I said, Noriega was trying to undermine the presidency of Nicolas 
Ardito Barletta, a respected international banker and former student of George 
Shultz, then the secretary of state. Having maneuvered himself into command of 
the country's military in 1984, Noriega had originally thrown his weight behind 
Barletta, helping him win a seriously flawed "election" that earned Barletta 
the nickname "Fraudito" in opposition circles.

But when Barletta tried to govern honestly - to rein in the bureaucracy, reform 
the banks and the legal system, and direct government assistance so that it 
would nourish the economy rather than enrich Panamanian kleptocrats - Noriega 
decided he had to go. That was a problem, I argued. Panama needed someone like 
Barletta in power, particularly with the scheduled turnover of the canal and 
the treaty-mandated American exit from the isthmus by 2000.

I was delighted when Meese immediately instructed the two assistants who were 
with him to open a Justice Department investigation into Noriega's possible 
involvement with drug trafficking. It was Meese's decisiveness that gave me 
comfort when, not long after the dinner, Noriega finally forced Barletta to 
resign in favor of a more pliant successor. At least the attorney general would 
be keeping an eye on the general.

At first, the Reagan administration seemed focused on the problem. After 
Barletta's September resignation, the United States decided to try to block 
Noriega from interfering with Panama's civilian government. Soon after 
Barletta's departure, John Poindexter, the national security adviser, and 
Elliott Abrams, the assistant secretary of state for inter-American affairs, 
made a secret stopover at an Air Force base in the former Canal Zone, near 
Panama City. In a private lounge away from any base activity, the three of us 
met with Noriega.

Our underlying message was this: You know the current state of our relations 
with the Sandinistas in Nicaragua (where the Pentagon was providing support to 
the Contras in their war against the ruling government). If you continue to act 
as a destabilizing force, you can expect the United States to turn on you as we 
have turned on them.

Noriega knew of America's covert support for the Contras, because he had 
collaborated with us on several occasions. So he had to understand the warning. 
Unfortunately, in the first in a series of missteps, our message was 
compromised. Right after the meeting, without my authorization, the local CIA 
chief in Panama called on Noriega to find out how the meeting had gone. The 
general must have taken this visit as an indication that he need not worry, 
because his old friends in intelligence remained supportive.

Within hours of the meeting, I left for Washington, for an interagency review 
of the Panamanian situation. At Abrams' office at the State Department, I 
quickly learned that Poindexter's trip had probably been for naught. His strong 
message would not be accompanied by any actions. The consensus was that so long 
as the United States was focused on fighting the Sandinistas and their 
Communist allies in El Salvador and Guatemala, we could not afford to swing at 
another hornets' nest.

Neither the Pentagon nor the CIA showed any inclination to break with the 
general, and said as much. He could cause considerable embarrassment for his 
longtime patrons. Worse, he could disrupt the day-to-day business of our 
military stationed in Panama. The general was, as far as I know, on at least a 
couple of payrolls and was supposedly providing us intelligence, though during 
my time in Panama I didn't see that he produced anything of real use.

And the accusations of narcotics trafficking? I do not recall that there was 
any mention of the Justice Department investigation. I suspect I didn't bring 
it up because I didn't want to. Given the power of those who were opposed to 
taking action against Noriega, it would have seemed prudent to keep the 
investigation out of the discussion.

After the meeting, I returned to my post in Panama. Once there, I tried my best 
to ostracize Noriega by keeping visiting dignitaries away from him. I hoped to 
signal American disapproval, to persuade his military colleagues to ditch him 
and to inspire the democratic opposition to regroup.

Obviously, my efforts to isolate Noriega did not prosper - but I did what I 
could. When Vernon Walters, a high-ranking CIA official, sent the general a 
very cordial Christmas greeting via the diplomatic pouch, I managed to 
intercept and destroy the message (without Walters' knowledge).

A few months later, in early 1986, my tour in Panama ended. Within a year, 
Noriega was in full control of all the levers of power in Panama. The entire 
government would soon realize what some of us had felt from the beginning: 
Noriega was a monster and a crook. He began rounding up and torturing 
opposition leaders, continued laundering drug money and threatened the 
prospects for an orderly transfer of the canal.

My day-to-day involvement with the "Noriega problem" ostensibly ended with my 
1986 transfer to Honduras, but the feeling of futility persisted. Washington, 
having now decided that some sort of action must be taken, pinned all its hopes 
on a renegade Panamanian officer who was supposed to lead a coup - despite this 
individual's clear lack of a following.

In any case, our government soon threw away whatever leverage it might have had 
with Noriega's inner circle by announcing that the entire Panamanian leadership 
was now barred from entering the United States. Whatever slim chance we had of 
persuading a turncoat was dashed. (Shortly before the 1989 invasion, a group of 
second-level officers did try to oust Noriega, but the attempt proved a 
failure, with the leaders summarily executed.)

The real trouble in the years leading up to the invasion was caused by the 
Justice Department investigation in which I had placed so much hope. The 
investigation backfired, wrecking the ability of our government to deal with 
Noriega without the use of force or the loss of lives.

In February 1988, the public announcement of Noriega's indictments for drug 
trafficking made normal relations with Panama impossible.

Beginning with my conversation with Meese in Mexico City and throughout the 
months and years that followed, again and again I was told that Noriega's 
indictment, once reached, would be sealed. By not making the indictment public, 
we could grab Noriega the next time he came to the United States to see his 
Miami dentist or to gamble in Las Vegas, or even if he accepted an invitation 
to visit the CIA or the Pentagon.

The last time I received this assurance, from someone at the National Security 
Council, was three days before the media reported the indictments.

In the wake of the announcement, the State Department tried to persuade Noriega 
to accept a plea and surrender to American justice. Failing that, it proposed, 
incredibly, that he relinquish power and go into retirement somewhere else, 
like Venezuela or Spain.

This drama took so long to unfold that, by the end of the year, I was serving 
under a new president, George H. W. Bush, as the chief Latin American adviser 
at the National Security Council. During my very brief time there, I learned 
that two key members of the Senate Intelligence Committee, one a Democrat and 
the other a Republican, had blocked a proposal to deal with Noriega by 
snatching him. The operation wasn't imminent, but the senators opposed even 
drawing up a plan for it on the curious grounds that any attempted clandestine 
operation against Noriega might cause his death. I urged my immediate boss on 
the council, Brent Scowcroft, to reconsider the idea, but he told me it had 
already been vetoed.

By the fall of 1989, Noriega forced the issue by having his forces begin 
harassing American civilians and members of the military in Panama. And so our 
military invaded in December and brought Noriega, in chains, to trial in the 
United States.

(Rumor has it that when American forces broke into Noriega's house in Panama 
City they found a freezer full of bundles of voodoo candles, each wrapped in a 
piece of paper with one of his enemies' names on it, and that one of these 
candles bore my name. My efforts to retrieve the candle from the CIA, however, 
have been unavailing.)

Despite deserving credit for going after Noriega, the Department of Justice is 
the chief culprit in this sorry story for allowing the indictments to be 
publicized. Although that decision led to the prosecution of a wanted felon, 
the success was accomplished at the cost of heavy collateral damage.

Almost everyone in government, however, shares some of the blame. America's 
civilian and military intelligence agencies must be fingered for putting 
Noriega on their payrolls, for being unwilling to detect his criminal 
activities and for their resistance to ditching him once it became obvious that 
he was out of control.

Those running administration policy toward Latin America, myself included, 
failed to deal decisively with Noriega or even to fashion a strategy to deal 
with him. That interagency meeting should have produced a plan. The Pentagon 
and the CIA should have been brought to heel. The White House should not have 
allowed a couple of senators to determine how to handle the problem. And 
although the narcotics investigation at Justice was crucial, it should have 
been part of the plan, not independent of other considerations. Of course it is 
easy in retrospect to say everyone should have acted with greater foresight and 
determination.

As for what the United States should do about Noriega now that he has completed 
his prison term, my answer would be to pack him off to France, where he has 
been sentenced to a 10-year prison term. Noriega still has the potential to 
disrupt Panama's highly charged political climate. Allowing the onetime 
dictator to return home would be one last way for this country to bungle its 
dealings with him.

Everett Ellis Briggs was the U.S. ambassador to Panama from 1982 to 1986, the 
ambassador to Honduras from 1986 to 1989, and a member of the National Security 
Council staff in 1989.


 Copyright © 2007 The International Herald Tribune | www.iht.com 
  

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