Fujimori posed a familiar problem to the denizens of the State Department: a dictatorial leader who suppressed opposition, subverted the freedom of the press, was bolstered by a brutal military, undermined the judiciary and came close to governing by fiat -- but by God, he was really on our side when it came to fighting drug traffickers and leftist guerrillas.

So we went along with the fiction that the guy was a democrat, a Good Guy, someone who deserved our support. Oh yes, and he was very good for the economy.

The history of U.S. policy toward Latin America is mostly characterized by our perceived self-interest being dressed up as concern for democracy. To paraphrase Franklin Delano Roosevelt, speaking (reportedly, anyway) of the Nicaraguan dictator Anastasio Somoza: "He's an SOB, but he's our SOB."

For most of this century, we've supported a colorful gallery of murderers and swindlers south of our borders on the grounds that they've been our best hope in fighting dangerous leftist tendencies. In translation, that meant they were ready to stomp on anyone who made life uncomfortable for American corporate interests.

Once the Cold War got started, life became really easy for the dictators: all they had to do was promise to be anti-communist and they had all the help they wanted, no matter how many of their own population they killed, tortured or kidnapped. Why, we'd even step in and help them subvert an elected government if necessary, as in Guatemala in the '50s and Chile in the '70s.

Now, with the Cold War over, another bugaboo has appeared to bolster dictators and keep them in the good graces of the norteamericanos: drugs. So it was with Fujimori, who made this transition quite nicely.

To begin with, he had a nasty guerrilla movement to contend with: the Maoist Shining Path, who were not nice people at all and who supported themselves in part with proceeds from the drug trade. Fujimori got tough with them and won himself both internal and external support this way.

He also gave a huge amount of power to his shadowy security chief, Vladimiro Montesinos, and studiously ignored the number of innocent leftist students whose bodies turned up in ditches over the years.

The United States would occasionally protest politely when some particularly egregious case came to light, or when one of its citizens got caught in the web, but even after Fujimori had pretty clearly rigged the last election (after steamrolling a change in the constitution, which had allowed for only two consecutive presidential terms) the State Department seemed ready only to make a few small noises and pretend everything was OK.

True, the noises from Washington had recently gotten a little louder. The language of these protests, however, is kind of laughable when you think about it: We'd urge Fujimori to enact democratic reforms, or some such thing. Dennis Jett, former ambassador to Peru, wrote in the Miami Herald yesterday of similar urgings by the Organization of American States that it was "like dispatching someone to talk to O.J. about buying his wife a new dress."

And true, some observers think U.S. pressure contributed to Fujimori's sudden decision over the weekend to let go. But no doubt the biggest boost came from whatever courageous person made the videotape available that showed Montesinos flagrantly buying the conversion of a legislator to Fujimori's party.

So it looks like Peru might just get the democracy it deserves because of a fluke: its leaders got caught in the act of blatant political corruption.

Meanwhile we are preparing to send military equipment to Colombia's army to help them in their fight against drug traffickers, even as we know that military is just as bad as Peru's. When will we ever learn?

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