Central America Slipping and Sliding Around Peace

By Jill Smolowe

Their stated mission was to educate, not to interfere. But the State Department advisers who traveled to Central America last week had more in mind than a polite review of the peace accord that five Central American nations, including Nicaragua, signed in Guatemala City in early August. U.S. officials admitted that their goal was to slow progress on the peace plan, which, as far as the Reagan Administration is concerned, should never have been adopted in the first place. Said a U.S. diplomat: "It's like trying to put the brakes on a runaway train heading downhill."

The Administration also tried to regain the offensive back home. After weeks of thrashing about, one minute backing the peace process, the next claiming unwavering support for the contras, Washington tilted strongly toward the rebels last week. On vacation in California, President Ronald Reagan issued two pledges of continued support for the contras' war against the Sandinista regime in Nicaragua. He broadcast a morale-boosting message that was beamed to guerrillas in the field over a rebel radio station. Three days later Reagan met with contra leaders in Los Angeles. In Washington, officials criticized the Sandinistas, issuing statements of support for imprisoned Nicaraguans who had embarked on a hunger strike and finding fault with Managua's attempts to comply with provisions of the peace accord.

If the U.S. diplomatic maneuvers looked a bit flat-footed, Nicaraguan President Daniel Ortega Saavedra seemed to execute several deft pirouettes. He announced that three exiled priests could return to Nicaragua and hinted that the Roman Catholic Church's radio station might be reopened within 90 days. Some Central American officials speculated that Ortega was merely trying to embarrass the Reagan Administration; others argued that with Nicaragua's economy a shambles, Ortega was genuinely bent on procuring peace. Whatever the case, on the public relations front, conceded a U.S. official, "the Sandinistas have certainly done much better than we have."

The White House was attempting to recover from a series of miscalculations that could doom the contra effort for good. In early August, Reagan startled members of his Administration by unveiling a peace plan that was co-sponsored by Democratic House Speaker Jim Wright. According to State Department officials, Reagan had intended to present the Sandinistas with a proposal that they could only reject, then ask Congress for new contra funding before the current aid expires on Sept. 30. But the scheme went awry. Three days later, when the Presidents of El Salvador, Costa Rica, Honduras, Guatemala and Nicaragua met in Guatemala City to discuss a homegrown peace proposal, the Central American leaders allied with the U.S. felt compelled to sign their version. "What were we supposed to do?" asks a Honduran official. "Be the only ones not for peace?" One major difference between the two pacts: the Reagan-Wright plan calls upon the Sandinistas to negotiate directly with the contras, while the Guatemala accord does not.

To Washington's distress, the Guatemala plan has almost totally eclipsed ) the Reagan Administration's version in public discussions. Three of the contras' six civilian directors embraced the accord last week, saying they would return to Nicaragua if conditions for a cease-fire scheduled for Nov. 7 were met. "We are prepared to give the plan a fair try," said Alfonso Robelo. "We won't put up any hurdles." Contra Military Commander Enrique Bermudez, however, asserted that the rebels would not lay down their weapons on Nov. 7, nor would they accept an amnesty offered by Ortega. During their meeting with Reagan, the contra leaders proposed that the President secure renewed funding from Congress, then place the military portion of that aid in an escrow account. The money would become available only if Managua broke the cease-fire. Though the Administration refused to commit itself to the suggestion, Assistant Secretary of State Elliott Abrams called it "basically a good idea."

In Nicaragua, Ortega went to unusual lengths to demonstrate his commitment to the Guatemala agreement. His boldest gesture was to name Miguel Cardinal Obando y Bravo, one of the Sandinistas' harshest critics, to a four-person commission that will oversee Managua's compliance with the plan. While State Department Spokeswoman Phyllis Oakley applauded Obando's appointment, she charged that "the Sandinistas have stacked the council in their favor."

Ortega faces skepticism not only abroad but also at home. In a rare display of divisiveness among the nine members of the Sandinista directorate, Interior Minister Tomas Borge seemed to try to undercut Ortega's public relations offensive last week. After Ortega announced that the priests could return, Borge declared that the 30-day jail sentences imposed on two opposition leaders last month were "not commutable." Their crime: staging a protest rally in Managua without a permit. Sandinista officials privately acknowledged that police use of electric prods and attack dogs to break up the rally had been heavy-handed.

Ortega's determination at least to act like a peacemaker seems to stem primarily from economic concerns. The war, which consumes more than half of Nicaragua's annual budget, is taking an enormous toll on the economy. The most immediate concern is oil. This year the Soviet Union and its East-bloc satellites are expected to supply 490,000 tons, or 64% of the total need, compared with 95% in 1986. Oddly, the crisis has neither lowered the monthly gas ration of 20 gal. for each vehicle nor inspired the state to ease the controls that hold the official price of gas to just over 6 cents per gal.

Nor has anything been done to curb Nicaragua's chronic problems of mismanagement and inefficiency. Inflation threatens to reach quadruple digits, and such basics as eggs, onions and beef remain prohibitively expensive. Pet projects once showcased by the Sandinistas have withered, including programs to unclog sewers, remove garbage and fix up schools. Says Arturo Cruz, a former contra leader who now lives in Miami: "The Sandinistas were very good guerrillas, but they are disasters as economic managers."

The Soviets seem to agree. Kremlin advisers have long complained that Nicaragua misuses the resources it receives. Out of one lot of 60 Soviet buses shipped last year, only 17 are still in operation, and dozens of jeeps had to be scrapped because of poor maintenance. Moscow was especially galled when its oil tankers were recently forced to wait for several days at Puerto Sandino before receiving permission to unload their oil. Compounding the insult, the Nicaraguans charged the Soviet ships docking fees and demanded to be paid in dollars.

Some Western diplomats believe that Moscow's anger with Managua is a temporary ploy to keep the U.S. Congress from refunding the contras. "The Soviets want to get the idea across that they aren't really committed to the Sandinistas," says one diplomat. "That makes it more difficult for the right wing in the U.S. to present Nicaragua as an East-West conflict." Other analysts contend that Moscow's growing coolness toward Managua stems from its determination not to jeopardize arms negotiations with Washington.

Whatever Moscow's real motive, the Kremlin appears to favor the Guatemala approach. At least one leader of Salvador's leftist rebels has received word that both the Soviet Union and Cuba would like to see the peace accord stick. "The pact will now be hard to ignore," he says. The Reagan Administration, of course, already finds the Guatemala agreement impossible to disregard. The challenge for Washington now is to suggest appropriate changes without derailing the peace talks -- and giving the Sandinistas another victory on the public relations battlefield.

With reporting by Ricardo Chavira/Washington and John Moody/Managua