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TIME: Almanac 1990s
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<text id=90TT0225>
<title>
Jan. 22, 1990: Speak Softly And Carry A Cage
</title>
<history>
TIME--The Weekly Newsmagazine--1990
Jan. 22, 1990 A Murder In Boston
</history>
<article>
<source>Time Magazine</source>
<hdr>
ESSAY, Page 74
Speak Softly and Carry a Cage
</hdr>
<body>
<p>By Michael Kinsley
</p>
<qt> <l>"By this my sword that conquered Persia,</l>
<l>Thy fall shall make me famous through the world.</l>
<l>I will not tell thee how I'll handle thee,</l>
<l>But every common soldier of my camp</l>
<l>Shall smile to see thy miserable state."</l>
</qt>
<p> Thus says the socially insecure world conqueror Tamburlaine,
in Christopher Marlowe's play of the same name, to Bajazeth,
Emperor of the Turks. Tamburlaine puts the defeated Emperor in
a cage and has him wheeled around to subsequent battle sites.
Quite a comedown for the Emperor. And quite an ego boost for
Tamburlaine, the former shepherd.
</p>
<p> Manuel Antonio Noriega is hardly the Emperor of the Turks.
But seizing Noriega and bringing him back to the U.S. in chains
is a similar callow triumphalist flourish by President George
Bush, the former wimp. Modern media saved Bush the necessity
of lugging Noriega in a cage to future summits and election
rallies. That prison mug shot of the humiliated former dictator
became an instant worldwide image.
</p>
<p> No one would accuse Bush of invading Panama merely to prove
his manhood. (Although after Grenada, the Falklands and now
this, an early mini-war is probably turning into a standard
expectation for future Western leaders.) In fact, it is hard
to quarrel with the invasion's success.
</p>
<p> True, the ostensible reasons for the invasion were mostly
phony: there was no danger to the canal; the White House itself
had originally laughed off Noriega's "declaration of war";
Bush's flowery defense of American womanhood, based on a single
murky episode of rude remarks, belongs in an operetta. True,
Noriega's thuggery and drug connections didn't much bother
anyone in the White House until Michael Dukakis (remember him?)
decided to make an issue of them in 1988. True, the invasion
will have no impact on the drug war anyway. True, there were
less bloody ways to remove Noriega, before and since. True, the
only legitimate reason for the invasion--establishing
democracy--is not one America is prepared to apply routinely.
</p>
<p> All true, but so what? By all reports, the Panamanians
themselves are pleased. If democracy really does stick in
Panama, and if the economy we ruined is expeditiously rebuilt,
the invasion will have been worthwhile.
</p>
<p> The rest of the world, though, could be forgiven for
suspecting that concern for the welfare of Panamanians weighed
lightly in America's thinking about the invasion. The lack of
interest, for example, in the Panamanian civilian death count
has been shocking. The New York Times and Washington Post ran
hundreds of articles on aspects of the invasion. You would have
thought that even the fact of uncertainty and confusion about
the numbers, which were known to be in the hundreds, would be
worth an article or two. But the first article addressing
itself primarily to civilian casualties appeared on page 23 of
the Post 17 days after the invasion.
</p>
<p> U.S. officials announced Jan. 9 that 220 "unarmed civilians
not involved in fighting and street disorders" had been killed
in violence "directly related" to the invasion--an ominously
qualified statistic. But even that number, which has been
challenged, is proportionally equivalent to 22,000 Americans.
Add 314 Panamanian troops, and Panama's loss in a couple of
days is equivalent to America's during the entire Viet Nam War.
Yet compare the American press's indifference to Panamanian
deaths with its lavish emphasis on--and, it seems,
exaggeration of--the death count in Rumania.
</p>
<p> Carting Noriega off for trial in America is another insult
to Panama, and a mockery of the notions of justice it is
intended to celebrate. After all, his crimes against the U.S.
are pretty trivial compared with his crimes against his own
country. It doesn't really blunt the insult that the
Panamanians are happy enough to see him go, and offered him up
to us as a sort of reward.
</p>
<p> Lacking the courage of our own imperialism, we are now going
to twist our justice system to make a trial of this petty
foreign dictator, whose country we invaded to grab him, fit
into conventional criminal procedure. Did I say "grab him"? Not
at all. For legal reasons, the Government preposterously
insists that he "surrendered voluntarily." Conservatives are
already complaining that civil liberties may let Noriega off
the hook--as if the difficulty of giving a fair trial to a
man America went to war against proves that America's fair-trial
standards are too stringent.
</p>
<p> Meanwhile, little is heard from an area of law you might
think was more relevant: international law. Unlike Ronald
Reagan before the invasion of Grenada, Bush didn't even bother
to find some Organization of Insignificant Nearby Countries to
smoke an invitation out of. This time around, U.S. officials
can barely be troubled to invoke their one-size-fits-all
interpretation of Article 51 of the U.N. Charter, which refers
to the right of national self-defense.
</p>
<p> Bush himself was quick to apologize when overenthusiastic
American troops raided the Nicaraguan embassy in Panama City.
The sanctity of embassies is a bit of international law
important to the U.S. Yet it seems like misplaced
fastidiousness to worry about the sovereignty of nations'
embassies when you so clearly don't worry about the sovereignty
of nations.
</p>
<p> Among Noriega's other available defenses is one of selective
prosecution. Is the U.S. now going to hold legally liable every
foreign head of state whose malefactions hurt Americans? Surely
not, as Administration officials have been at pains to make
clear in recent days. Seizing and trying Noriega reflects two
contradictory kinds of American posturing: bullying and
faux-naivete (we don't really invade countries; we just enforce
the law). If the Panamanians didn't want him, he should have
been allowed to rot in the resort of his choice, like other
former American friends.
</p>
</body>
</article>
</text>