"There Is No Plan B"

By Jill Smolowe

In the twilight, it was difficult to know who was out there. But the 100 U.S. Marines guarding a military fuel depot near Howard Air Force Base in southern Panama were certain that the uniformed figures moving in the distance were up to no good. Sure enough, as darkness settled, shots rang out. The American sentries responded, firing into the dense jungle that surrounds the 800-acre Arraijan Tank Farm. For two hours, the Marines fired small arms and mortars. Miraculously, no one was hurt; the previous night, a smaller firefight had resulted in the accidental fatal shooting of a Marine. Could the U.S. troops have once again mistaken their fellow countrymen for hostile Panamanians? "Unauthorized personnel," insisted the U.S. Southern Command. "Shadows," countered the Panama Defense Forces.

The two nights of phantom violence dramatized the dilemma that confounds the Reagan Administration in Panama and elsewhere in Central America: Is the U.S. pursuing a logical course to achieve concrete results, or is it firing wildly at uncertain targets? Drug trafficking has replaced Communism as the Administration's overriding policy concern, compounding earlier American inconsistency on the Nicaraguan contras. In switching targets, the U.S. has employed heavy-handed tactics that have failed to anticipate consequences. As a result, Washington has angered some of its closest regional allies and unleashed strong anti-American sentiments. "Things are a mess now," concedes a State Department official. "We're just reacting to events."

Nearly three months have passed since drug indictments were brought against General Manuel Antonio Noriega in Florida and the Administration signaled its determination to unseat the strongman. Noriega remains firmly in control, despite opposition strikes, U.S. economic sanctions, and the dispatch of 1,300 additional U.S. troops to Panama. The economic noose intended to yank Noriega from power is instead choking Panama's banking, construction, retail and tourism industries. Says a young businessman in Panama City: "Noriega has made fools of the Americans, and we are the ones who have suffered."

As the situation worsens, the perception is growing in Panama that the U.S. joined battle with Noriega armed only with a firm conviction that the general would slink away on cue. At a secret meeting, Panamanian opposition leaders asked U.S. embassy officers to spell out their plans for dealing with Noriega. A U.S. official reiterated Washington's familiar posture: Noriega must leave Panama, with no guarantees that he will not be extradited to the U.S. from a third country. "Do you mean to tell us that the U.S. set off on this venture without considering the possibility that it wouldn't work right away?" demanded a Panamanian. "Are you saying there is no Plan B?" An uneasy silence followed.

While American officials concede that they are divided over what course to pursue against Noriega, they reject charges of a policy vacuum. "We always envisioned continually escalating economic pressure," says a senior Administration official. "We have avoided doing anything dramatic because we don't want to cause permanent damage to the Panamanian economy." Yet as U.S. banks contemplate pulling out of Panama, pessimists fret that Panama's service economy is being ravaged beyond repair; optimists predict that it will take a decade to restore investors' confidence in the country. Grouses a Panamanian official: "The American strategy has all the subtlety of a bull crashing through a glass door."

The same might be said of U.S. policy in Honduras. Cleanup crews in Tegucigalpa continue to wash soot off the U.S. embassy annex, attacked two weeks ago by gringophobic students protesting the seizure and extradition to the U.S. of accused Drug Kingpin Juan Ramon Matta Ballesteros. At least two Hondurans died in the riots; damage estimates ranged up to $6 million, and the U.S. indicated that it expects reparations. The Reagan Administration insisted that the attack was orchestrated by drug traffickers, including a military faction sympathetic to Matta.

But Washington's explanations could not mask Hondurans' brewing resentment at high-handed U.S. treatment. It goes beyond the illegality of the Matta nabbing, which blatantly thwarted a provision of the Honduran constitution that protects citizens from extradition. For years Honduras has been a reluctant party to Reagan's war on Nicaragua's Marxist Sandinistas. While acting as host to the contras in exchange for extensive military aid, Honduran leaders have repeatedly issued embarrassed denials that rebel bases exist within their borders. But more than once Honduras was forced to give the lie to its own claims. Just last month the Hondurans were compelled by Washington to request assistance to halt a Sandinista cross-border attack aimed at the contra camps, then watched dismally as 3,200 U.S. troops rushed into the country. Says a Western diplomat in Tegucigalpa: "Honduras has always been a means to an end."

The goodwill that Washington is squandering in Panama and Honduras in pursuing its sometimes conflicting goals may run out if the U.S. continues to ignore regional sensibilities. "Six years ago, there was no anti-Americanism in Honduras," says a Honduran political analyst. "Now it is increasing every day." In Panama, adds a veteran politician, "there will be bitterness and anti-Americanism" once Noriega is gone. As the war on drugs escalates, Washington needs to plan its battles with more forethought.

With reporting by John Moody/Panama City and Wilson Ring/Tegucigalpa