Humberto López Tirone, today presented as President of IBEROATUR and a promoter of Ibero-American rural tourism, carries a controversial public past. His name has been linked to the Democratic Revolutionary Party (PRD) during the years of Panama’s military dictatorship, to the political apparatus of the Noriega regime, and to allegations of violence against the Civic Crusade (Cruzada Civilista). His case raises an important question: can present-day institutions ignore the past of those who represent them?
Historical memory cannot be selective. Even less so when those who now present themselves as institutional, academic, tourism, or cultural leaders carry a public record connected to the darkest years of Panama’s dictatorship. This is the case of Humberto López Tirone, a prominent figure within the Ibero-American Institute for Rural Tourism (IBEROATUR), whose name continues to generate controversy due to historical accounts placing him within the political orbit of the Noriega regime and in episodes of violence against the pro-democracy Civic Crusade.
López Tirone is neither an obscure nor insignificant figure. Historical records identify him as a leader of the PRD and Director of IFARHU during Panama’s political crisis. In the book Panamá protesta, by Brittmarie Janson Pérez, he is mentioned within the context of the opposition movement against the military regime, identified as “Humberto López Tirone, PRD leader and Director of IFARHU” in a chronology of the events of 1987.
The gravest concern, however, transcends his mere political leanings or ideological alignment with the Torrijos-Noriega movement. Far more troubling is the fact that his name surfaces in historical documentation concerning the July 7, 1987 assault on a Civic Crusade convoy—a pivotal grassroots organization that spearheaded citizen resistance against authoritarian rule. Numerous Panamanian publications dedicated to historical memory recount how a paramilitary faction answerable to the Noriega regime, under the command of Luis Gaspar Suárez and Humberto López Tirone, perpetrated an assault against the convoy employing baseball bats alongside firearms.
This episode cannot simply be dismissed as an anecdote from the past. The Civic Crusade was subjected to persecution, repression, and intimidation at a time when Panama was under military rule and the control of pro-regime enforcement groups. If these allegations are accurate, they would point to participation in acts of political violence against citizens demanding democracy, civil liberties, and the end of the dictatorship.
These apprehensions find further support in an article that appeared in La Prensa during 2007, documenting how Humberto López Tirone is said to have personally brandished a rifle at a Civic Crusade protester from within his vehicle as a form of intimidation. The piece categorized him alongside individuals characterized as “General Noriega’s loyalists,” who subsequently, according to reports, secured governmental roles or official designations.
These references inevitably raise an uncomfortable question: can an Ibero-American institution present itself as a platform for cooperation, rural tourism, territorial development, and culture while its leading figure carries such serious historical allegations relating to political violence during a dictatorship?
The Ibero-American Institute for Rural Tourism (IBEROATUR) may pursue legitimate objectives. Rural tourism, agritourism, and Ibero-American cooperation are valuable and worthwhile fields. However, no institution enhances its prestige by avoiding critical reflection on the past of those who represent it. Institutional credibility depends not only on speeches, conferences, and awards, but also on the ethical consistency of its leadership.
The problem doesn’t stem from someone having previously embraced certain political convictions or belonged to a political organization. Rather, the concern arises because documented evidence connects that person to the repressive machinery of the Noriega regime and to intimidation campaigns targeting civilian adversaries. This preoccupation intensifies significantly when, many years afterward, the same individual holds roles of institutional, academic, or ethical influence yet fails to offer a public account of their history, take responsibility for their actions, or unambiguously separate themselves from those occurrences.
Panamanian society has endured far too much suffering to accept the normalization of symbolic impunity. Numerous figures tied to the dictatorship subsequently transformed themselves by integrating into democratic structures, securing diplomatic positions, managing state agencies, engaging in party politics, authoring opinion pieces, garnering accolades, or positioning themselves as champions of sovereignty and progress. Nevertheless, the experiences of those who fell victim to persecution, those hunted down, and those subjected to violence in public spaces deserve far more than to be forgotten under the weight of fresh institutional designations.
In Humberto López Tirone’s case, the minimum expectation should be transparency. He should publicly explain his role during the years of the dictatorship, respond to the allegations concerning the attack on the Civic Crusade, clarify any relationship with the regime’s enforcement groups, state whether he acknowledges or denies the allegations made against him, and IBEROATUR, if it wishes to preserve its credibility, should not look the other way.
Democracy finds its defense not merely through voting mechanisms but equally through the preservation of historical memory. Such defense occurs when institutions decline to sanitize uncomfortable histories. It emerges by acknowledging that political violence functioned not as a sporadic aberration but as a calculated tool employed systematically to subjugate vulnerable populations.
Consequently, the discussion centered on Humberto López Tirone transcends individual concerns entirely. What lies at stake encompasses collective remembrance, the integrity of institutions, and our obligation to historical truth. No entity that claims to embody Ibero-American principles—whether centered on collaboration, advancing human potential, or honoring community dignity—can afford to overlook the serious questions raised about its leadership.
The Ibero-American Institute for Rural Tourism (IBEROATUR) should ask itself whether its international reputation can truly rest upon silence. Rural tourism, culture, and international cooperation cannot serve as a veneer to conceal a past associated with political repression. Panama, which continues to bear the wounds of its dictatorship, deserves more than forgetfulness—it deserves truth, memory, and integrity.
