Last Test of a Battered Treaty

The Senate vote was in doubt; so was the Panamanian reaction

For once, the most zealous nationalists in Panama City and the most ardent American patriots in the Canal Zone could agree on something. "God, I wish it was over," people on both sides kept saying as they anxiously awaited this week's U.S. Senate vote on the second canal treaty. The first treaty, providing for the continuing American defense of the waterway, had been approved with only one vote to spare. The vote on the second pact, which would gradually transfer authority over the canal to Panama, promised to be just as unnervingly close. After all the months of expectations, a negative vote would embitter U.S.-Panama relations and perhaps lead to a serious confrontation in the vulnerable Canal Zone.

The snag that threatened to undo the tattered treaty was a reservation to the first pact that had slipped by supporters even though they had been on the alert for "killer amendments" that might make it unacceptable to Panama. Sponsored by Dennis DeConcini, 40, a freshman Democratic Senator from Arizona, the reservation would give the U.S. the right to send troops into Panama if the canal was ever closed, or even if there was any interference with its operations, like a strike.

The day before the first Senate vote, Carter met with DeConcini and tried to get him to modify the provision a bit. DeConcini would not budge, so the President, who needed all the votes he could get, gave in. With White House support, the reservation was approved by the Senate. On the face of it, the reservation did not seem to change significantly the original treaty and subsequent "understanding" between Carter and Panamanian Chief of Government Omar Torrijos that provided for the American defense of the canal if it was endangered. But by gratuitously spelling out the right of the U.S. to reintroduce troops into Panama for virtually any reason, DeConcini grievously offended Panamanian national pride. It was the issue of sovereignty that had prompted negotiations in the first place.

The Panamanian reaction was almost unanimously hostile. For the first time since Torrijos seized power in 1968, the nation's various factions were able to unite on an issue: they were all opposed to the reservation. Former Panamanian Foreign Minister Aquilino Boyd, who had negotiated the treaty with Henry Kissinger, denounced the reservation as "immoral because the strong once again are trying to wield excessive power over the weak." Said a U.S. official in Panama: "Idi Amin couldn't live with this reservation and survive." Aware that his leadership could be at stake, Torrijos complained: "Listening to DeConcini, I ask myself the question: Have we by any chance lost a war? The U.S. didn't demand as much from Japan."

Torrijos badly needs the treaty to give a boost to Panama's economy. The pact would increase Panamanian canal revenues from $2.3 million a year to as much as $60 million if tolls are raised and traffic is sustained. But if forced to choose between economic malaise and national humiliation, Torrijos may have to abandon the treaty. Indeed, his country may give him no choice.

Despite the months of negotiations, the White House was surprised by Panama's building anger over the DeConcini reservation. On returning from an overseas tour, Treaty Co-Negotiator Sol Linowitz was astonished to find Carter and his assistants quite relaxed about the second treaty vote. Linowitz started raising, in his own word, "hell."

By the end of last week, Administration complacency was gone, and phones were ringing all over Capitol Hill. Said Senator Frank Church, one of the most vocal members of the Foreign Relations Committee: "We are at the razor's edge as far as the vote is concerned. We can't afford to lose anyone." Senate Majority Leader Robert Byrd, whose efforts have done much to keep the treaty alive, recessed the Senate for a long weekend to let members cool down. Treaty supporters started fashioning still another provision that would take the sting out of the DeConcini reservation without losing his or anybody else's vote. The new reservation would make the point that the U.S., in its efforts to keep the canal open, could not intervene in the internal affairs of Panama or compromise Panamanian territorial integrity and political independence. "We are walking on eggshells," Byrd said. "Anything scares me at this point." But he was optimistic that "things will come out all right."

Would DeConcini go along? For a Senate newcomer who had been on the job only 15 months, he had proved disconcertingly persistent--"flint under pressure," noted Byrd admiringly. Many judge DeConcini to be an uninformed lightweight, but he certainly was not taking the treaty lightly. A onetime Tucson prosecutor, he prides himself on the bargaining skills he acquired in complicated real estate transactions. Last December he decided to visit the canal at his own expense with his wife, mother and brother. In his forthright manner, he asked Torrijos whether the U.S. would be able to intervene if the canal were threatened by a strike or a revolution. Torrijos was not reassuring, and DeConcini decided the treaty needed fixing. He tried to interest White House staffers in his reservation, but they assumed that they had enough votes and ignored him. When they discovered the votes might not be there, DeConcini was catapulted into his make-or-break position. "It was all a matter of chance," he says. "When it came down that they didn't have the votes, they called me. I am where I am today by a natural progression of events." DeConcini vowed that he would resist any softening of his reservation.

His intransigence sparked other revolts. Liberals such as George McGovern and Pat Moynihan began grumbling that they might not be able to support the treaty because it was becoming too loaded against Panama. S.I. Hayakawa said he was upset about Carter's entire foreign policy and might change his vote. Edward Brooke was also talking about shifting to a no vote. White House and Senate leaders assembled a flash alert system to respond to each brushfire as it emerged. But could they all be damped in time to save the treaty? As the pact hung in the balance, it posed the serious question of whether the U.S. would be able to resolve equitably a nagging international problem with a small nation in a changing world.

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