Hollywoodism WHEN THE SOVIET UNION REFRAINED from quashing the eruption of Eastern Europe, and even encouraged its former client states to go their own way, Latin America's hopes for a Glasnost Ameri- cana suddenly seemed well founded. Why couldn't it happen here? Gone is the primary justification for U.S. meddling the perceived threat of a rival empire. The official ideology that sees Russians behind every Latin American nationalist lies in shambles. The Christmas invasion of Panama put an end to such dreaming. The reality of thousands of invading troops, the relentless bombing of a civilian neighborhood (poor and black, not incidentally), the theatrical encirclement of for- eign embassies, sent a clear message: The Cold War may be over, but the Empire predates anticommunism; thug- gery will remain the guiding light of U.S. policy in this Hemisphere. In fact, the invasion may well have been the opening shot of the post-Cold War war, in which "drug lords" replace communists as the devil of the 1990s. Certainly there were strategic considerations: The Pentagon may be willing to hand the Canal over to the Panamanian government in the year 2000, as stipulated in the Torrijos-Carter treaties, but only to one which exhibits unequivocal fealty. There was also the influence of domestic politics: Bush needed to cast off his wimpish image by playing out a macho fantasy on a government that had become less than compliant. But both of these objectives could have been accomplished by simpler means. Nor does the fiendish career of Gen. Noriega offer a satisfactory explanation of U.S. motives. In the ghoulish underworld of the CIA personnel department, Noriega's crimes could only be termed minor insubordination. His greatest affront to his bosses balking at providing fur- ther aid to the contras in 1 986 probably deserved repri- mand, but it hardly called for a campaign of demonization culminating in the prime-time circus of invading troops and the public show trial that is sure to follow. O N THE GROUND, THE "ACTION" IN Panama has been similar to the invasion and occu- pation of Cuba, Puerto Rico, Nicaragua, the Dominican Republic, Haiti and Panama itself at the beginning of this century: a massive show of brute force, followed by the disarming and disbanding of the local military, the estab- lishment of new security forces armed and trained by the United States, and the creation of a new state structure run by pro-U.S. politicians and businessmen. Like most of the dozens of other U.S. invasions of Central America and the Caribbean since the 1 850s (17 of them in Panama), the objective was to muscle out the British and establish the United States' sovereign claim to the Caribbean Basin creating client states to ensure U.S. military control over strategic waterways and com- mercial control over the region's agricultural wealth. Today, in contrast, the objective is not to allay a threat to imperial control, but to create one. I N 1967, THE EX-PRESIDENT OF THE DOMINI- can Republic, Juan Bosch, wrote a book on the 1965 U.S. invasion and occupation of his country that chal- lenged Latin America's understanding of United States policy. Left critiques at the time focused on the U.S. need to preserve access to Dominican sugar to replace that lost to the Cuban Revolution. Bosch, who was ousted in a U.S-sponsored coup in 1963, proposed that such impe- rialism was a phenomenon of the past, superceded by what he called "Pentagonism." Wars, he argued, were no longer fought to conquer resources or defeat rivals, rather to justify the high military budgets that keep the U.S. economy afloat. Any excuse to invade is good enough, he claimed, if it can be played right to the U.S public. "Pentagonism" is an outdated term, but Bosch was right. After Reagan perhaps we would do better to call it "Hollywoodism." The invasion of Panama, like that of Grenada in 1983 and the bombing of Libya in 1986-and even the wars against Nicaragua and El Salva- dor responded not to serious economic or strategic objectives, nor were they even a product of ideological stridence. They were set up and carried out to cow the public, to domesticate the press, to keep the liberals in line, and, especially, to justify the military spending on which the most vested interests of U.S. politics depend. The post-Cold War war (a.k.a. the Drug War) is a political convenience, a show performed on television and in the halls of Congress. But like its predecessor, it is waged in earnest on the periphery of world power in Latin America and the ghettos of our cities. In the Cold War, anticommunism worked so well because it identi- fied the external enemy of U.S. ruling circles (the socialist camp) with their internal enemies (leftists in the unions, New Dealers among the Democrats). Anti-drug cam- paigns hold the same potential; only now the enemy at home is not the Left, but the thousands of unemployed youth for whom the system offers no future. In this brave new world, Hemispheric affairs and mu- nicipal politics come off as a grade-B morality play in which, just like in Hollywood, black and Latin people play devils and extras and end up dead. T HE MURDER OF SIX JESUIT PRIESTS IN EL Salvador in November hit close to home. They were all friends of NACLA; three of them had worked on past issues of the Report. Their humility, their commitment to justice, and their unflagging faith that understanding the world is essential to changing it, remain an inspiration to us all. MF* VOLUME XXIII, NO. 5 (FEBRUARY 1990) 3 TA44N4i Hollywoodism WHEN THE SOVIET UNION REFRAINED from quashing the eruption of Eastern Europe, and even encouraged its former client states to go their own way, Latin America's hopes for a Glasnost Ameri- cana suddenly seemed well founded. Why couldn't it happen here? Gone is the primary justification for U.S. meddling-the perceived threat of a rival empire. The official ideology that sees Russians behind every Latin American nationalist lies in shambles. The Christmas invasion of Panama put an end to such dreaming. The reality of thousands of invading troops, the relentless bombing of a civilian neighborhood (poor and black, not incidentally), the theatrical encirclement of for- eign embassies, sent a clear message: The Cold War may be over, but the Empire predates anticommunism; thug- gery will remain the guiding light of U.S. policy in this Hemisphere. In fact, the invasion may well have been the opening shot of the post-Cold War war, in which "drug lords" replace communists as the devil of the 1990s. Certainly there were strategic considerations: The Pentagon may be willing to hand the Canal over to the Panamanian government in the year 2000, as stipulated in the Torrijos-Carter treaties, but only to one which exhibits unequivocal fealty. There was also the influence of domestic politics: Bush needed to cast off his wimpish image by playing out a macho fantasy on a government that had become less than compliant. But both of these objectives could have been accomplished by simpler means. Nor does the fiendish career of Gen. Noriega offer a satisfactory explanation of U.S. motives. In the ghoulish underworld of the CIA personnel department, Noriega's crimes could only be termed minor insubordination. His greatest affront to his bosses-balking at providing fur- ther aid to the contras in 1986-probably deserved repri- mand, but it hardly called for a campaign of demonization culminating in the prime-time circus of invading troops and the public show trial that is sure to follow. O N THE GROUND, THE "ACTION" IN Panama has been similar to the invasion and occu- pation of Cuba, Puerto Rico, Nicaragua, the Dominican Republic, Haiti and Panama itself at the beginning of this century: a massive show of brute force, followed by the disarming and disbanding of the local military, the estab- lishment of new security forces armed and trained by the United States, and the creation of a new state structure run by pro-U.S. politicians and businessmen. Like most of the dozens of other U.S. invasions of Central America and the Caribbean since the 1850s (17 of them in Panama), the objective was to muscle out the British and establish the United States' sovereign claim to the Caribbean Basin-creating client states to ensure U.S. military control over strategic waterways and com- mercial control over the region's agricultural wealth. Today, in contrast, the objective is not to allay a threat to imperial control, but to create one. N 1967, THE EX-PRESIDENT OF THE DOMINI- can Republic, Juan Bosch, wrote a book on the 1965 U.S. invasion and occupation of his country that chal- lenged Latin America's understanding of United States policy. Left critiques at the time focused on the U.S. need to preserve access to Dominican sugar to replace that lost to the Cuban Revolution. Bosph, who was ousted in a U.S.-sponsored coup in 1963, proposed that such impe- rialism was a phenomenon of the past, superceded by what he called "Pentagonism." Wars, he argued, were no longer fought to conquer resources or defeat rivals, rather to justify the high military budgets that keep the U.S. economy afloat. Any excuse to invade is good enough, he claimed, if it can be played right to the U.S public. "Pentagonism" is an outdated term, but Bosch was right. After Reagan perhaps we would do better to call it "Hollywoodism." The invasion of Panama, like that of Grenada in 1983 and the bombing of Libya in 1986-and even the wars against Nicaragua and El Salva- dor-responded not to serious economic or strategic objectives, nor were they even a product of ideological stridence. They were set up and carried out to cow the public, to domesticate the press, to keep the liberals in line, and, especially, to justify the military spending on which the most vested interests of U.S. politics depend. The post-Cold War war (a.k.a. the Drug War) is a political convenience, a show performed on television and in the halls of Congress. But like its predecessor, it is waged in earnest on the periphery of world power-in Latin America and the ghettos of our cities. In the Cold War, anticommunism worked so well because it identi- fied the external enemy of U.S. ruling circles (the socialist camp) with their internal enemies (leftists in the unions, New Dealers among the Democrats). Anti-drug cam- paigns hold the same potential; only now the enemy at home is not the Left, but the thousands of unemployed youth for whom the system offers no future. In this brave new world, Hemispheric affairs and mu- nicipal politics come off as a grade-B morality play in which, just like in Hollywood, black and Latin people play devils and extras-and end up dead. T HE MURDER OF SIX JESUIT PRIESTS IN EL Salvador in November hit close to home. They were all friends of NACLA; three of them had worked on past issues of the Report. Their humility, their commitment to justice, and their unflagging faith that understanding the world is essential to changing it, remain an inspiration to us all.
