Panama
Few today remember that President Theodore Roosevelt played a key role in establishing Panama as a nation at the dawn of the twentieth century, yet many do remember that the United States invaded Panama towards the end of the twentieth century to detain its head of state, Manuel Noriega. Panama’s story parallels the larger story of Latin America, a region where Theodore Roosevelt proclaimed the right to intervene at any time to maintain both order as well as insulation from European influence. This Roosevelt “corollary” to the Monroe Doctrine has set the tone for United States policy towards Latin America ever since, proving impervious to any legal prohibitions against the initiation of military force.
During the Spanish-American war of 1898 – where Roosevelt earned a great deal of fame by helping Cuba and Puerto Rico win their independence from Spain – the U.S. battleship Oregon had to round the tip of South America in order to make the long journey from the Pacific Ocean. This painstaking experience drove home the lesson that a waterway connecting the Atlantic and the Pacific would greatly enhance American naval power. Once Roosevelt had ascended from the vice-presidency to the presidency upon the assassination of William McKinley in 1901, he settled on the isthmus of Panama as the best location for a canal. Colombia, which owned the isthmus, seemed willing to negotiate for a canal zone and offered a 6-mile wide strip of land across the isthmus in exchange for a handsome price. Colombia’s senate, acting as a republic’s legislature often does, cantankerously rejected the treaty. Roosevelt, displaying a disregard for Colombia’s institutions that would make any modern president proud, flew into a rage: “Damn the law, I want the canal built!” he reportedly yelled. He did not attempt to negotiate further with Colombia or to look for an alternative site, such as the oft-considered Nicaragua. Instead, Roosevelt decided to support an insurgency against the Colombian government, despite the fact that the U.S. had a longstanding treaty with Colombia to maintain the neutrality of the isthmus.
Philippe Bunau-Varilla – the Frenchman charged with constructing a canal in Panama, and who stood much to lose if that location ceased to be available – raised a Panamanian army consisting mostly of firemen and mercenaries. This ragtag group started a “revolution” on November 3, 1903. When Colombian troops moved to respond with force (as was Colombia’s sovereign right), United States gun-ships thwarted their advance. Shortly thereafter Roosevelt recognized Panama as an independent nation, and Panama (via its temporary international representative Bunau-Varilla) was all too happy to carve out a canal zone for the United States’ perpetual use. Two years after Roosevelt died, the U.S. Senate paid $25 million to Colombia as recompense for the decimation of Colombia’s sovereignty and territory.
Granted, all of this took place long before Nuremberg. The episode does offer valuable insight into more recent events proving that Panama, though independent of Colombia, was most certainly not independent of the United States. In 1989 President George H.W. Bush ordered a military invasion of the isthmus because its head of state, Manuel Noriega, had seized power from the democratically elected government in a coup d’état and had allegedly violated the domestic drug laws of the United States. These justifications, however, did nothing to make the invasion anything other than an illegal use of force.
First, to reiterate, international force is justified when necessary to defend against actual or imminent armed attack, or when the U.N. Security Council authorizes it, neither of which applied to Panama. The Bush administration did make a token argument that the invasion qualified as self-defense because Noriega’s troops had killed a U.S. serviceman stationed in Panama. Though this murder was a criminal act and may have triggered Panama’s legal liability to the United States, such incidents happen all the time and certainly do not qualify as international “armed attacks” on a nation’s sovereignty justifying an overwhelming military response. Customary law has long recognized that an act of self-defense, even if presumed necessary, must also be proportionate to the “attack” in question.
Second, it makes no difference that Noriega seized power from an elected government. International law does not prescribe how nations must order their internal affairs, but regards a de facto national leader is the de jure (legal) leader as well. Panamanians alone may sort out who their leaders are, by ballots, bullets, or machetes. For those who trumpet the supposedly universal obligations of human rights, "democracy" and the like, even an internal violation of such norms does not amount to a casus belli.
Third, as we shall see with regard to Chile, Guatemala and Iran, the United States itself has overthrown elected governments when convenient, so the “pro-democracy” mantra rings hollow. Moreover, it is curious for the United States to argue that someone like Noriega has no right to topple his own country’s elected government, while the United States topples foreign countries’ elected governments quite frequently.
Fourth, as the active head of state, Manuel Noriega possessed full immunity (rationae personae) from the prosecution that the United States brought against him. The circuitous explanation that the reviewing court gave for ignoring this problem was that the federal government did not recognize Noriega as the head of state, so no immunity applied. In other words, immunity does not apply if the prosecutor vetoes it. To illustrate the absurdity of this argument, imagine for a moment that a foreign nation, perhaps China, had abducted President George W. Bush during his first term in office and put him on trial for violating Chinese law. Imagine further that the Chinese government rejected Bush’s personal immunity because, in its opinion, the 2000 election was fraudulent. I doubt that the federal government would endorse such a finding, although it is indeed the necessary outcome of federal policy.
Fifth, the United States has no right to enforce its domestic laws within the territory of another nation. Even if Noriega had been a United States citizen rather than a foreign head of state, the most the federal government could legitimately do would be to negotiate his extradition from Panama to try him for his crimes.
Noriega’s sin was not eschewing democracy, but eschewing United States’ control. In light of the historical precedent discussed below, Noriega should have known that he could have persisted as a dictator for a long time but for committing that sin.
Few today remember that President Theodore Roosevelt played a key role in establishing Panama as a nation at the dawn of the twentieth century, yet many do remember that the United States invaded Panama towards the end of the twentieth century to detain its head of state, Manuel Noriega. Panama’s story parallels the larger story of Latin America, a region where Theodore Roosevelt proclaimed the right to intervene at any time to maintain both order as well as insulation from European influence. This Roosevelt “corollary” to the Monroe Doctrine has set the tone for United States policy towards Latin America ever since, proving impervious to any legal prohibitions against the initiation of military force.
During the Spanish-American war of 1898 – where Roosevelt earned a great deal of fame by helping Cuba and Puerto Rico win their independence from Spain – the U.S. battleship Oregon had to round the tip of South America in order to make the long journey from the Pacific Ocean. This painstaking experience drove home the lesson that a waterway connecting the Atlantic and the Pacific would greatly enhance American naval power. Once Roosevelt had ascended from the vice-presidency to the presidency upon the assassination of William McKinley in 1901, he settled on the isthmus of Panama as the best location for a canal. Colombia, which owned the isthmus, seemed willing to negotiate for a canal zone and offered a 6-mile wide strip of land across the isthmus in exchange for a handsome price. Colombia’s senate, acting as a republic’s legislature often does, cantankerously rejected the treaty. Roosevelt, displaying a disregard for Colombia’s institutions that would make any modern president proud, flew into a rage: “Damn the law, I want the canal built!” he reportedly yelled. He did not attempt to negotiate further with Colombia or to look for an alternative site, such as the oft-considered Nicaragua. Instead, Roosevelt decided to support an insurgency against the Colombian government, despite the fact that the U.S. had a longstanding treaty with Colombia to maintain the neutrality of the isthmus.
Philippe Bunau-Varilla – the Frenchman charged with constructing a canal in Panama, and who stood much to lose if that location ceased to be available – raised a Panamanian army consisting mostly of firemen and mercenaries. This ragtag group started a “revolution” on November 3, 1903. When Colombian troops moved to respond with force (as was Colombia’s sovereign right), United States gun-ships thwarted their advance. Shortly thereafter Roosevelt recognized Panama as an independent nation, and Panama (via its temporary international representative Bunau-Varilla) was all too happy to carve out a canal zone for the United States’ perpetual use. Two years after Roosevelt died, the U.S. Senate paid $25 million to Colombia as recompense for the decimation of Colombia’s sovereignty and territory.
Granted, all of this took place long before Nuremberg. The episode does offer valuable insight into more recent events proving that Panama, though independent of Colombia, was most certainly not independent of the United States. In 1989 President George H.W. Bush ordered a military invasion of the isthmus because its head of state, Manuel Noriega, had seized power from the democratically elected government in a coup d’état and had allegedly violated the domestic drug laws of the United States. These justifications, however, did nothing to make the invasion anything other than an illegal use of force.
First, to reiterate, international force is justified when necessary to defend against actual or imminent armed attack, or when the U.N. Security Council authorizes it, neither of which applied to Panama. The Bush administration did make a token argument that the invasion qualified as self-defense because Noriega’s troops had killed a U.S. serviceman stationed in Panama. Though this murder was a criminal act and may have triggered Panama’s legal liability to the United States, such incidents happen all the time and certainly do not qualify as international “armed attacks” on a nation’s sovereignty justifying an overwhelming military response. Customary law has long recognized that an act of self-defense, even if presumed necessary, must also be proportionate to the “attack” in question.
Second, it makes no difference that Noriega seized power from an elected government. International law does not prescribe how nations must order their internal affairs, but regards a de facto national leader is the de jure (legal) leader as well. Panamanians alone may sort out who their leaders are, by ballots, bullets, or machetes. For those who trumpet the supposedly universal obligations of human rights, "democracy" and the like, even an internal violation of such norms does not amount to a casus belli.
Third, as we shall see with regard to Chile, Guatemala and Iran, the United States itself has overthrown elected governments when convenient, so the “pro-democracy” mantra rings hollow. Moreover, it is curious for the United States to argue that someone like Noriega has no right to topple his own country’s elected government, while the United States topples foreign countries’ elected governments quite frequently.
Fourth, as the active head of state, Manuel Noriega possessed full immunity (rationae personae) from the prosecution that the United States brought against him. The circuitous explanation that the reviewing court gave for ignoring this problem was that the federal government did not recognize Noriega as the head of state, so no immunity applied. In other words, immunity does not apply if the prosecutor vetoes it. To illustrate the absurdity of this argument, imagine for a moment that a foreign nation, perhaps China, had abducted President George W. Bush during his first term in office and put him on trial for violating Chinese law. Imagine further that the Chinese government rejected Bush’s personal immunity because, in its opinion, the 2000 election was fraudulent. I doubt that the federal government would endorse such a finding, although it is indeed the necessary outcome of federal policy.
Fifth, the United States has no right to enforce its domestic laws within the territory of another nation. Even if Noriega had been a United States citizen rather than a foreign head of state, the most the federal government could legitimately do would be to negotiate his extradition from Panama to try him for his crimes.
Noriega’s sin was not eschewing democracy, but eschewing United States’ control. In light of the historical precedent discussed below, Noriega should have known that he could have persisted as a dictator for a long time but for committing that sin.
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