TIME: Almanac 1993/TIME Almanac 1993.iso/time/112789/11278900.035

Text File | 1992-09-23 | 9.9 KB | 190 lines

                                                                                WORLD, Page 42

EL SALVADOR

The Battle for San Salvador


In the worst bloodletting of the decade-long war, the fighting
kills hundreds, drives tens of thousands from their homes --
and brutally takes the lives of six Jesuits

By Jill Smolowe


    With the world's attention focused on Eastern Europe, no
one expected the resurgence of an ugly little war in a troubled
little country on the American continent. Certainly not the El
Salvadoran armed forces, or the U.S. Government, which funds the
Salvadoran military to the tune of $85 million a year. Or the
5 million war-weary citizens of El Salvador. All had been
encouraged by two recent rounds of peace talks to hope that a
settlement in El Salvador's ten-year civil war might be in the
offing. Even when the talks broke off three weeks ago amid a
surge in civilian killings and rumors of a guerrilla offensive,
no one imagined that the war would be brought from the
countryside right into the capital. But there are two roads to
peace: one paved with goodwill, the other littered with dead
bodies. Last week the rebels of the Farabundo Marti National
Liberation Front (F.M.L.N.) took the road less traveled in
recent years, and the savage fighting that resulted will leave
Salvadorans reeling for months to come.

    The war that returned to El Salvador was vengeful and
bloody. In the worst slaughter of the decade, 3,500 leftist
rebels battled government troops all week in the streets of San
Salvador and in many of the country's 14 regions. The death
toll: at least 208 troops, 676 guerrillas and hundreds -- no one
knows precisely -- of civilians. Thousands more were wounded.

    Most cold-blooded was the brutal slaying of six Jesuit
priests, which seemed to symbolize all that is wrong in El
Salvador. While no one has claimed responsibility, immediate
suspicion centered on the country's resurgent right-wing death
squads. In the predominantly Roman Catholic country, angry
accusations and outrage over the barbaric murders were certain
to linger long after the battle had died. And for the U.S., they
raised once again the moral dilemma of aiding a country where
such acts have repeatedly gone unpunished.

    With his country's security threatened, President Alfredo
Cristiani declared a state of siege on the second day of
fighting, suspending constitutional liberties and imposing
strict curfews. It was not only the sudden flare-up of the
long-stalemated situation that caught Salvadorans by surprise,
but it was also the scope and intensity of the conflagration.
Until now, the F.M.L.N. has relied primarily on the traditional
hit-and-run tactics of guerrilla warfare, never winning, but
never losing decisively. By taking their battle to the capital,
the rebels were forced to stand their ground in a more
conventional way. But the guerrillas lack the equipment to rival
the Salvadoran army's U.S.-supplied planes and helicopter
gunships, and as a result sustained heavy casualties.

    While both sides inflicted civilian casualties, the air
attacks by the army appeared to take the highest toll. On the
periphery of the capital, the poor neighborhoods believed to be
rebel strongholds were repeatedly strafed by rockets and
machine-gun fire from above. Some citizens alleged that bombs
were indiscriminately dropped in residential areas. Cristiani
countered that the government had authorized the use of bombs
only where the army had isolated F.M.L.N. units and was
reasonably sure civilians would not be injured. In many areas,
citizens were forced to abandon their homes, creating a stream
of tens of thousands of refugees.

    The motives behind the F.M.L.N. offensive were far from
clear. The extent of the assault prompted speculation that the
guerrillas were hoping a final sink-or-swim offensive would
rally popular support and bring down the six-month-old Cristiani
government. If that was the intent, the rebels missed their mark
by a wide margin. While their ability to infiltrate tons of arms
and ammunition and 3,500 fighters into the capital demonstrated
significant civilian support, the guerrillas failed to spark a
popular uprising. In fact, the assault may have earned the
rebels more new detractors than supporters. Traditional
political allies, such as the National Revolutionary Movement,
condemned the F.M.L.N. and called on it to return to the
negotiating table.

    The rebels broke off peace talks on Nov. 2, following a
bomb attack on the headquarters of the left-leaning National
Federation of Salvadoran Workers that killed ten people. The
bombing was widely attributed to the right-wing death squads,
which, after slumbering for several years, are once again
marauding throughout El Salvador. The rebels hold Cristiani and
his rightist Nationalist Republican Alliance (ARENA) government
responsible for both the resurgence of the death squads and the
arrest, injury or killing of more than 400 suspected guerrilla
sympathizers in recent months. It is likely that last week's
offensive was at least in part a response to the wave of
death-squad attacks.

    But the boldness of the assault suggests that the rebels
were intent on disproving the government's claims that the
F.M.L.N. is a spent military force. It served warning that the
government could look forward to more bloodshed and violence if
the guerrillas' demands are not treated seriously.

    The timing of the offensive may also reflect the
guerrillas' unease with developments in Eastern Europe. Just two
months ago, F.M.L.N. Commander Joaquin Villalobos admitted that
his forces could no longer "aspire to an armed revolution that
the Soviet Union will subsidize." Since then the pace of change
in Eastern Europe has accelerated so quickly that the F.M.L.N.
may be worried that it will be forgotten by its Communist
patrons. Toward that end, the F.M.L.N. may have been reminding
both the Cristiani and Bush administrations that with or without
foreign Communist support, the guerrillas must be part of any
eventual settlement.

    The Bush Administration heeded the message -- then bent it
to its own purposes, using the occasion to renew old charges
against Moscow. Secretary of State James Baker told the
Organization of American States that the Soviet Union "bears
special responsibility because its arms and its money, moving
through Cuba and Nicaragua, continue to support violence,
destruction and war." While there was no evidence of direct
Soviet complicity, there were indications that Nicaragua is
continuing to arm the F.M.L.N.

    Mostly, however, U.S. officials sought to downplay the
crisis that had caught them so unprepared. But beneath the
bravado, there were signs of unease. Officials who publicly
condoned the Salvadoran military's air attacks privately
conceded that there was no way to prevent them from causing
civilian casualties. "There is a serious human rights situation
developing," admitted one official.

    For Cristiani, the situation is delicate. During his
presidential campaign, he courted votes by proclaiming his
impatience with the pace of fighting permitted by his
predecessor, Jose Napoleon Duarte. "The U.S. wants a
low-intensity conflict, meaning do so much not to win, but not
to lose," he said in March 1988. "That's not fair to the
military." He went on to say that if the F.M.L.N. failed to
accept a consensus proposal for peace, "that would justify
harsher military action." Having been treated to a fairly easy
first six months in office, Cristiani was finally put to the
test last week. What he demonstrated was that unlike Duarte, he
knows how to use the power of the armed forces to his advantage.

    The problem, of course, is that as both sides strive to
prove that they can stand up to their enemy, it is the people
of El Salvador who reap the consequences. "If this spiral of
violence continues," warned San Salvador's Archbishop Arturo
Rivera Damas, "death and destruction will sweep away many,
especially those who are of most use to our people."

    The Archbishop was speaking of the murder of the six
Jesuits, who taught at the University of Central America, one
of the country's most respected institutions and a center for
leftist theological activism. In the worst attack on Salvadoran
Catholic activists since the assassination of Archbishop Oscar
Arnulfo Romero in 1980, they were mowed down by M-16 rifle fire
at their campus residence Thursday morning; a cook at the
university and her 15-year-old daughter were also cut down. The
government promptly ordered an investigation, hinting that the
rebels were responsible. But the brutal massacre was widely
believed, as was Romero's slaying, to be the handiwork of
right-wing death squads, and it will be difficult to convince
outraged citizens that the military played no role.

    In Washington officials voiced concern that Cristiani was
losing control to extremists within his party and the military.
There was speculation that the Treasury Police, who had raided
the priests' residence just days earlier, may have had a hand
in the murders. "This was incredibly stupid," said a U.S.
official. "As long as we've been telling army officials that
they can't allow this kind of thing to happen, they still
haven't learned."

    Two roads to peace remain open. The rebels seem prepared to
take either one. "There is still time to negotiate and prevent
more bloodshed," says F.M.L.N. representative Salvador Cortez.
"But if the government remains stubborn in its refusal to
negotiate in good faith, then we are prepared to continue until
the end." Peace talks are scheduled to resume in Caracas on Nov.
21. Government representatives vow to be there; the rebels have
said they will not attend. The U.S. is urging them to return to
the negotiating table. The governments of Central America should
lend their voices to that call. Otherwise, nothing will change
but the death toll.