Dangerous Fief

Rain soaked the guests, and someone made off with $5,000 worth of jewelry, but all things considered, the big day was a success. Put on by the U.S. Naval Base at Subic Bay, the giant Philippine-American Friendship Fiesta was a needed gesture of good will aimed at the 60,000 inhabitants of the city of Olongapo. There were baseball and basketball games, beer and hot dogs, even a troupe of dancers from Manila. But last week, once the fiesta was over, base and Olongapo city were back to normal--a relationship as curious and precarious as any now existing between the U.S. and its allies.

Trial by Whom? In the four long years that Washington and Manila have been haggling over the clumsy and outdated 1947 agreement on U.S. bases, they have never solved the thorny problem of which nation should have jurisdiction over U.S. servicemen who commit crimes. The Philippines do not even enjoy the right that Japan has of trying men who commit crimes when off duty even though on base. The Philippines not only want that right, but also the prerogative of deciding when a man is off duty or not. In the past decade, Filipino guards on the U.S. Air Force payroll at Clark Field have killed some 35 thieves; local authorities want to try the guards, but have not been able to. Luckily, no incident has flared into the kind of friction that arose in Japan over the Girard case or in Formosa over Sergeant Reynolds.

Around the great $126 million Navy base at Subic Bay--big enough for the entire Pacific Fleet to find anchorage in waters 60 fathoms deep--the dispute has a special urgency. In the gg-year lease the U.S. took out on Subic Bay, the big city of Olongapo was included. It is thus the only foreign city in the world run lock, stock, and barrel by the U.S. Navy.

Economically, Olongapo has had little to complain about. The base gives work to 11,000 of its people. Manila Avenue is lined with flourishing shops and bars, and 4,500 Americans pour $20,000 a month into a city that has no industry of its own but boasts more than its share of pimps, peddlers, and 2,000 registered prostitutes that the Navy euphemistically calls "hostesses." But for all the advantages, the anachronism of Olongapo so galls the Filipinos that even so staunch a pro-American as the late President Ramon Magsaysay once bluntly told the U.S. that he would not be satisfied until Olongapo was "reintegrated into the Philippine community."

Rule by Rule. Though able and sympathetic Rear Admiral Arthur Spring is the law around Subic Bay, Olongapo is actually run by a lean, 43-year-old submariner named Franklin West. A thoroughly efficient and honest man, Commander West has a doggedly simple approach to his job: "I work by the books and regulations." The regulations give him the power to collect taxes, distribute light and power, hand out business licenses.

He can search a place without a warrant, detain a man for not having the proper identification, or expel an undesirable from the city--a process that the Navy once called "deportation" but now more tactfully calls "administrative action." Though the Navy has set up a showcase city council to help Commander West rule, six of its nine Filipino members work for the Navy and have not yet shown much inclination to vote against their employer. Just in case they do, West has the power to veto.

Another Wave. Lately, U.S. servicemen and diplomats in the Philippines have felt increasing anxiety over Olongapo. In the past year alone, four Filipinos around Subic Bay have been killed by Americans in brawls or accidents, and though the Philippine people are not up in arms, their courts are beginning to rebel. The first three cases were handled by the Navy, but in the fourth a Philippine judge refused to surrender jurisdiction.

Last month a rebel council member named Jose ("Joe") Pacheco, a former resistance fighter who until two years ago was on the Navy payroll as a Subic Bay security officer, demanded West's resignation and introduced a motion accusing the U.S. of everything from discrimination in handing out licenses to dictation. Predictably, the council voted the motion down, but "Joe" Pacheco made headlines, and one more wave of indignation against the U.S. swept over the nation. What puzzles Navymen in the area is just what is taking Washington so long in ending a situation that needlessly offends so good a friend.

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