• U.S.

Panama — Just Saying No

5 minute read
David Ellis

MANUEL ANTONIO NORIEGA’S CONviction came at an exceedingly high price. Washington’s eagerness to put Noriega behind bars occasioned the controversial 1989 invasion of Panama that took the lives of 23 American soldiers and at least 500 local citizens. The seven-month, multimillion-dollar trial featured testimony from some 20 dope dealers, pilots and money launderers, much of it in exchange for reduced sentences, cash settlements and other favors. And although President Bush hailed last week’s verdict as “a major victory against the drug lords,” Noriega’s conviction is likely to have little lasting effect on the overall war against the traffickers: cocaine producers in Bolivia, Peru and Colombia, like the heroin processors in Southeast Asia’s Golden Triangle and Lebanon’s Bekaa Valley, will no doubt continue to ply their lucrative trade.

The good news is that Panama’s democratic leaders, boosted by $1 billion worth of U.S. aid, have launched a drug crackdown within their own borders. Panamanian President Guillermo Endara was sworn into office on a U.S. Army base just hours after the American invasion, an act that has come to symbolize the close relationship between the Bush Administration and Noriega’s successor. According to dea officials, Endara’s willingness to cooperate with international antidrug efforts is helping stanch the flow of cocaine through Panama.

The country’s new 10,500-man civilian police force, which replaced the corrupt army-officer corps loyal to Noriega, is getting $20 million worth of U.S. training and equipment. Thanks to an accord reached last year, American investigators have access to secret Panamanian bank records whenever they suspect that accounts are being used to launder drug money. Now that Panama requires local banks to file meticulous reports on large deposits of cash, the cartels are no longer able to make millions of dollars disappear into a financial black hole. Efforts to set up similar laundering systems in Luxembourg and Uruguay have been thwarted, and some Latin dealers have been forced literally to bury their money on their property for safekeeping.

Meanwhile, the number of drug seizures in Panama has more than doubled: nine tons of cocaine were intercepted in 1991, compared with just under four tons the previous year. Intensified police surveillance has also spelled bad news for those who assist the cartels: in the first three months of 1992, 227 traffickers were arrested, in contrast to 102 in the same period a year ago.

Some government critics say the statistics merely prove that the country remains a popular pipeline to the American drug market. In Noriega’s day, Colombian cartels — which are responsible for nearly all the cocaine sold in the U.S. — regularly used neighboring Panama for back-door operations. But DEA officials dispute that view, arguing that the increased seizures are the result of successful sting operations. Once undercover agents infiltrate a drug ring, the agency often tries to arrange a delivery in Panama City, where the local police force breaks up the deal.

While Panama is no longer a drug thug’s playground, its transformation to law-abiding democracy has not been smooth. The Endara government has already survived one coup attempt, and there are fears that a fully armed police force might provide the nucleus for another rebellion led by former army members. Yet as former police director Ebrahim Asvat points out, “If the government doesn’t show interest in providing the police with adequate equipment, it can’t expect them to be fully efficient.” Moreover, Panama’s backlogged legal system has been unable to bring many drug traffickers to justice. Some 40 military aides accused of corruption have yet to stand trial.

Endara himself has been at least tangentially linked with the drug trade. A corporate lawyer before he became a politician, he served for years on the board of a bank controlled by Colombia’s Medellin cartel. Endara resigned that post only after a local newspaper revealed the association a month after he took office. More troubling still, Endara’s law partners set up several front companies for coke kingpins; U.S. authorities estimate that these firms handled billions in drug profits. Endara denies any wrongdoing and any links to the international narcotics trade in his business dealings.

The success of the international war on drugs doesn’t concern the average Panamanian. While the country has begun slowly to recover from the three-year economic crisis triggered by U.S. sanctions against Noriega, unemployment still hovers around 20% and street crime is climbing as the police concentrate on the traffickers. “I don’t care about Noriega,” declares Juan Garcia, 34, a part-time fruit seller who has been looking for steady work since 1989. “More than anything, I need a job to feed my family.” Though Panama has shed 21 years of military dictatorship and curtailed the drug trade at home, the government has yet to prove that it can provide its citizens with a decent standard of living.

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