Blundering Like a Lummox : Panama: The Americans’ use of mass force and firepower in Panama makes Latins wonder when their big neighbor will get smart.

There are two ways of viewing the U.S. invasion of Panama from a Latin American perspective. The first could be called resigned optimism: The invasion is simply a last American hurrah, an anachronistic but final throwback to the days of gunboat diplomacy at a time when the rest of the world has moved beyond petty shows of force. The second viewpoint is more frustrating and stereotypical but perhaps less accurate: The Panama adventure shows that as far as U.S. policy in its sphere of influence (an elegant euphemism for “back yard”) is concerned, there is nothing new under the sun.

The second interpretation is the easier of the two to embrace. Virtually all of official Latin America reacted negatively to the invasion. With the exception of Venezuela, every major nation in the hemisphere, including Pinochet’s Chile, “deeply deplored” the U.S. action (the Spanish wording of the Organization of American States resolution; the English version uses the milder “regret”). This indicates that most Latin chancelleries continue to view the affair in an intervention/nonintervention framework. The feeling that the invasion is just one more instance of American interventionism was evident in demonstrations and sentiments of rage and despair expressed in numerous sectors of Latin America. This view will undoubtedly dominate hemispheric analysis and discussion of the invasion.

But the first hypothesis may end up being the more realistic one. There is a great deal of tragicomic, cartoon-like absurdity in the invasion itself and in the international context in which it has taken place. Rather than an omnipotent, hyper-efficient superpower achieving its ends with grace and quickness, the image invoked by the Panama invasion is one of a lumbering, overweight and over-the-hill prize fighter throwing roundhouse punches, which always miss their mark.

If it were not for the widespread suffering imposed by the invading force on the civilian population, the scenes from Panama would seem faintly ridiculous: tens of thousands of American troops, armed to the teeth with the most advanced weaponry, logistical support and communications equipment, pulverizing whole neighborhoods, killing hundreds of civilians, provoking widespread looting and a general breakdown of law and order, all to catch one individual, who nevertheless kept evading their high-tech grasp, again and again slipping out of his various hiding places minutes ahead of his supposedly crack pursuers. Whether Manuel Noriega is eventually handed over to his hunters is, from this perspective, less important than the broader issue posed by the invasion. Are U.S. national interests truly at stake in the destiny of one individual, no matter how nefarious? And if so, is the use of indiscriminately destructive force appropriate for responsibly defending a superpower’s interests in the Gorbachev era?

The answer would seem to be no, on both counts.

Moreover, American behavior in Panama, El Salvador and Nicaragua begs to be contrasted with that of the Soviet Union, as Georgi Arbatov stressed in these pages on Sunday. In Eastern Europe and in regional conflicts throughout the globe, Mikhail Gorbachev has finally understood what many Third World leaders had been saying for years: For both superpowers, staying out of other countries’ affairs is the best way to defend long-term, legitimate national interests. Gorbachev’s doctrine, in the last analysis, boils down to two premises: The Soviet Union will no longer prop up regimes it likes nor subvert or overthrow those it doesn’t. In the absence of superpower confrontation (whether cold, tepid or hot), it does not really matter who governs Czechoslovakia or El Salvador, Afghanistan or Panama. The world is not a chess board, countries are not pawns, rooks or gambits.

George Bush is obviously taking his time in learning the Gorbachev lesson. Support by U.S. public opinion for the Panama invasion also shows that American attitudes toward the rest of the world, and in relation to what inevitably must be a different U.S. role in the world, are frustratingly resistant to change. The United States continues to prop up the regimes it favors and to remove by force or subversion those it considers contrary to its immediate interest. American taxpayers still agree to foot the pecuniary and moral bill for all of this.

But things will change, even if the pace is not what it could be. Panama may not be the last U.S. invasion on Latin American soil, but it could well be. Pedro Navaja, singer Ruben Blades’ mythic street-fighter and potential Panamanian national hero, may have said it best: La vida te da sorpresas; sorpresas te da la vida-- life is full of surprises, and vice versa.