Neither Venezuela nor Cuba: the country that declared a “state of war” against the U.S. and lost the conflict in 72 hours
The United States has already intervened militarily to bring about the collapse of a Latin American regime ruled by a leader accused of drug trafficking.
The scene is so strange it feels invented – yet its echoes in the present are unsettling. As the world looks toward Venezuela today, it is worth remembering that something strikingly similar has happened before. On December 15, 1989, Panama’s National Assembly, controlled by the dictator Manuel Antonio Noriega, officially declared a “state of war” against the United States. Five days later, at midnight, the U.S. invasion began. Within 72 hours, organized resistance had collapsed.
Noriega had ruled Panama since 1983, but his relationship with Washington stretched much further back. For years, he had been a collaborator with the CIA – a useful man during the Cold War, shielded by the United States as long as he served its interests. In May 1989, however, the system began to crack. The opposition crushed the regime at the ballot box, led by Guillermo Endara and by a landslide margin. When Noriega annulled the election, the Dignity Battalions took to the streets and attacked opposition leaders. Images of Guillermo “Billy” Ford, the vice-presidential candidate, beaten and bloodied before international cameras, spread around the world. The old ally had become a problem.
The spark came on the night of December 16, 1989, at one of the most sensitive locations in Panama City. Near La Comandancia – headquarters of the Panama Defense Forces and the heart of Noriega’s power – a car carrying U.S. officers in civilian clothes was stopped at a Panamanian military checkpoint. The U.S. military presence in the country was legal. Washington controlled the Canal and had thousands of troops deployed, but tensions had been boiling over for weeks. The encounter ended badly. As the vehicle tried to pull away, Panamanian soldiers opened fire. Marine lieutenant Robert Paz, Colombian-born and a U.S. citizen, was killed. Washington took the incident as definitive proof that the regime had lost control. For George Bush, the red line had been crossed.
In the early hours of December 20, as Guillermo Endara was sworn in as Panama’s legitimate president in an improvised ceremony held at facilities controlled by Washington, Operation Just Cause got under way. For the United States, Endara was the true winner of the elections annulled months earlier and should assume power – a stark contrast with what is happening in Venezuela, where Washington has recognized the opposition’s victory in the presidential election but, despite having apprehended Nicolás Maduro, has not moved to install the winners.
The military plan was overwhelming: more than 27,000 troops and around 300 aircraft struck a long list of key targets simultaneously. In just three days, organized resistance was defeated and the country was under control.
The background ran deep. Noriega had been indicted in the United States on drug-trafficking charges in 1988 and became a wanted criminal after a federal grand jury in Florida issued an arrest warrant. His relationship with Washington had been badly damaged since 1985, when opposition figure Hugo Spadafora was kidnapped while crossing the Costa Rica border, decapitated and dumped in a sack – a political crime that marked a turning point. Panama had civilian presidents, but real power lay with Noriega, head of the Defense Forces, who forced out leaders deemed inconvenient for a military regime that ruled from the shadows. Bush justified the intervention by citing the need to protect the 40,000 Americans in Panama, defend democracy, fight drugs and safeguard the Canal treaties. “Last night I ordered U.S. forces to enter Panama … No president makes this decision lightly.”
The war script also produced scenes that became legend. One, worthy of a special-operations movie, was Acid Gambit – a mission launched in the first hours of the invasion to rescue U.S. citizen Kurt Muse. Muse, jailed by Noriega’s regime for running an illegal radio station against the dictatorship, was held at the Cárcel Modelo in central Panama City. To extract him, Delta Force commandos landed at night on the prison roof in small MH-6 helicopters designed for urban insertions. During the escape, one of the extraction aircraft crashed, and the operation was only completed when a U.S. armored vehicle arrived to cover the withdrawal.
The other episode was even louder. When Noriega fled and sought asylum in the Apostolic Nunciature, the U.S. military set up loudspeakers outside and blasted a playlist that today would be meme-worthy: Van Halen (“Panama”), Kenny Loggins (“Danger Zone”), Billy Idol, The Clash. The psychological pressure worked. After ten days holed up and bombarded by music at full volume, Noriega surrendered on January 3, 1990.
The United States reported 23 dead and 325 wounded. On the Panamanian side, the numbers are less precise: between 200 and 300 combatants and more than 300 civilians according to conservative counts, with estimates rising to 500 civilians (UN) or more than a thousand according to local organizations. El Chorrillo became the most visible scar – fires, the collapse of old wooden buildings and entire families left homeless. Americas Watch criticized the proportionality of the attacks in densely populated areas.
The war left two opposing snapshots. The first: the end of the Defense Forces, Endara in the presidency and the already agreed process for the United States to return control of the Canal to Panama in 1999 under the Torrijos–Carter Treaties. The second: a major diplomatic backlash. On December 29, 1989, the UN General Assembly passed a resolution that “deeply deplored” the intervention and labeled it a violation of international law. The condemnation failed at the Security Council because of vetoes by the United States, the United Kingdom and France.
The true verdict on Just Cause lies not in the first five days, but in what followed. Guillermo Endara governed until 1994 and, for the first time in decades, did so without generals behind him – with all the weaknesses of a country emerging from dictatorship and invasion, but with elections, a free press and civilian power. In 1994 there was a peaceful transfer of power, with the Torrijos-aligned Ernesto Pérez Balladares of the PRD winning office, and in 1999 Panama received the Canal, as stipulated by treaties signed twenty years earlier. Since then, the country has had an imperfect, at times rough, but stable democracy, without coups or military tutelage.
That does not erase El Chorrillo, the civilian victims, the international condemnation or the uncomfortable questions about the use of force. But it does leave a hard-to-ignore fact: Noriega fell, the dictatorship did not return, Panama took control of its destiny and regained sovereignty over the Canal.
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