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Both became drunk with vanity. Ceausescu styled himself the "Genius of the Carpathians," put his face on posters all over Rumania and had 30 volumes of his speeches published. One of Noriega's last political acts was to have himself named Maximum Leader. Both pursued quirky impulses. Ceausescu made his wife Elena his deputy, and she not only draped herself in furs and jewelry but also used the police to spy on her grown daughter's love life. According to U.S. Army investigators, Noriega practiced Santeria, a mystic religion, and wore red underwear to fend off the evil eye.
Both have been accused of stealing hundreds of millions of dollars and hiding their fortunes abroad while reducing their poverty-stricken peoples to even worse states of poverty. Both created secret police forces to do their bidding, and both suppressed opponents without mercy. Both seemed to acquire the final illusion of the corrupted dictator, the megalomaniacal fantasy that he owns his country as a private possession, and that his people admire his strength. Sic semper tyrannis.
Despite protests against the invasion of Panama and legal questions about U.S. justification, it is difficult to credit the Noriega regime with real legitimacy. Aside from the general's alleged crimes, ranging from drug dealing to murder, he simply canceled last spring's election after it had gone against him, ruling thereafter by force. There was international criticism too of the secret trial and hasty execution of Ceausescu. But in both cases, the legalities were overwhelmed by a kind of political necessity -- and both countries should be the better for it in the new year. If, that is, they prove equal to the long and painful task of rebuilding the wreckage the two dictators left behind.