The New Terror Tactic

A cartoon in Argentina's Mercado magazine last week listed the prevailing "exchange rates" for kidnaped diplomats: "Eight guerrillas for one Japanese consul; eleven political prisoners for one ambassador; 15 terrorists for one general; twelve Maoists for a minister." The tactic of the diplomatic kidnaping, however, has aroused more alarm than amusement in chancelleries around the world. Last week two more potentially deadly incidents took place.

In the Dominican Republic, six smartly uniformed guerrillas seized a U.S. air attache, Lieut. Colonel Donald J. Crowley, 47, from the very polo field in Santo Domingo where the first U.S. Marines were helicoptered in during the 1965 intervention. Crowley's kidnapers threatened to kill him unless the government of President Joaquin Balaguer released 24 prisoners. After two days of haggling, the government placed 20 prisoners aboard an aircraft bound for Mexico City, and the kidnapers released Crowley blindfolded from an automobile. He was still wearing the riding boots, khaki pants and white jersey he had worn 21 days earlier when he went to the polo field to exercise some ponies.

In Buenos Aires, Argentine terrorists grabbed a Paraguayan consul named Waldemar Sanchez. The consul had advertised his Mercedes-Benz sedan for sale, and noted that it carried diplomatic license plates. When two young men dropped by to see the car, Sanchez took them for a test drive--and wound up being taken for a ride. His captors demanded the release of two.fellow terrorists, but the Argentine government refused. The kidnapers thereupon threatened not only to kill Sanchez but also to "start executing all the managers of American companies." At week's end, well beyond the kidnapers' deadline, Sanchez's chances of survival were in doubt. Then, confounding those doubts, Sanchez was freed. "They treated me very well," he said. The kidnapers said he was released for "humanitarian reasons."

Tide of Publicity. So far the kidnaping technique has proved to be a startlingly effective way of springing political prisoners. Equally important, it has brought worldwide attention to Latin America's urban guerrilla bands and the generally conservative regimes that they oppose. As long ago as 1958, Fidel Castro's Cuban guerrillas seized Juan Manuel Fangio, the Argentine auto-racing champion, then freed him after a tide of publicity. In the early 1960s, kidnaping was widely used by rebels in Guatemala and elsewhere to raise funds, but the victims were rarely foreigners.

The current phenomenon dates from the attempted kidnaping of John Gordon Mein, the U.S. Ambassador to Guatemala, in 1968; Mein tried to escape and was killed, with four bullets in the back and one in the head. Last year Brazilian guerrillas, mostly students, seized U.S. Ambassador C. Burke Elbrick, but released him unharmed when, after 77 hours, the Brazilian government allowed 15 prisoners to escape. Within the past month, Latin American terrorists have set a record by kidnaping four diplomats. In addition to Crowley and Sanchez, these included the Japanese consul general in Brazil and a U.S. embassy attache in Guatemala; both were released after the two governments agreed to the guerrillas' demands.

Gun-Toting Guards. "Is this the new terror wave of the future?" a Mexican newspaper recently asked. Political kidnaping, like airplane hijacking, may prove almost impossible to prevent. Security has been tightened at most embassies throughout Latin America. Elbrick is now followed everywhere by a carload of gun-toting police. The entrance to the U.S. embassy in Guatemala City has been outfitted with a peephole door and closed-circuit TV. Brazilian police guard the residence of every ambassador in Rio de Janeiro, but first secretaries, naval attaches and the like must fend for themselves. Rio's diplomatic community numbers 2,000--far too many to be safely protected at all times.

The U.S. State Department has tacitly encouraged Latin American governments to make settlements with kidnapers, but some U.S. diplomats take a more militant line. "If we don't declare a no-ransom policy," says one Foreign Service officer, "diplomats will withdraw until they and their families live in armed colonies." Nor is the patience of Latin American governments unlimited. During the Elbrick episode, one hardline Brazilian military man suggested that the 15 prisoners demanded as ransom by the rebels be taken to a public square, where one would be shot every hour until Elbrick was released. Argentina's decision to say no to the kidnapers in the Sanchez case may mark a turning point in the way Latin American governments respond to the new terror tactic.

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