AUGUST
1999
FSU'S CAMPUS IN THE TROPICS
By Margaret Leonard
Editor-in-chief
Florida State Times
In Panama, it's an hour's drive - by the highway that roughly parallels the Canal - from the Atlantic Ocean to the Pacific. A different hour's drive will get you from the city to the jungle.
At the Atlantic end of the Canal, a little boat can take you in a few minutes to jungle islands occupied by isolated species of primates and a few scientists who study them.
At the Pacific end of the Canal, next to a sophisticated capital city busy with the commerce of many nations, is the the newly acquired campus of the 42-year-old Panama Branch of Florida State University.
It is a time of transformation for the country and the college. By the end of 1999, the United States will complete its withdrawal from the Canal Zone, leaving miles of land, streets, buildings, military bases - and schools.
One of the schools, the Florida State Panama Branch, has finished a contract with the U.S. Department of Defense to educate servicemen, canal employees and their families. But Florida State has picked up a big new campus (formerly a defense department's community college), left empty in the friendly retreat of the U.S. military.
With a new contract with the Republic of Panama, Florida State is seizing the chance to make the most of extraordinary opportunities for scholars in several fields: biological and environmental sciences, international commerce and finance and - rarely below the surface in Panama - politics.
The student body has evolved. A few years ago, as many as 1,100 students, mostly service people in their late 20s, didn't mind going to class on an Air Force base and then on the third floor of a Chinese school in Panama City.
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A field laboratory in the jungle.
Eustorgia Castro, assistant director of the FSU Panama Branch.
There were always Panamanians who took advantage of the FSU branch - the president-elect, Mireya Elisa Moscoso Rod-riguez, and several members of the current cabinet were among them - but they were outnumbered by U.S. students.
They aren't any more. Down to about 600 students, but rebuilding, the student body is younger - just out of high school - and mostly Panamanian residents, although many are citizens of other countries.
They are taught by a remarkable faculty, eight permanent and
25 adjunct, with degrees from some of the best universities in
the world and international accomplishments.
One of the professors, a Yale graduate, has published four novels,
a history of the military dictatorship and the 1987 article in
Harper's Magazine that is credited with starting the U.S. outrage
over the reign of Manuel Noriega. That professor, Richard Koster,
is the love-him-or-hate-him kind. He has never bored a student.
Another professor, Roberto Bruno, studied at the University
of Texas with John Wheeler, "one of the best known American
physicists of this century."
Known for his work with black holes, Wheeler launched Bruno as
a black-hole scholar and a professor who "makes you understand
all this and makes you ponder beyond."
Now Bruno teaches physics to undergraduates with a view that
connects their hometowns to their nations to the universe. He
is another who can't be boring.
A third professor is Miguel Antonio Bernal, who earned law
and political science degrees in France and then came home to
Panama to practice law, teach political science and barely survive
the beatings of Noriega's soldiers who wanted to silence his
protests.
Bernal fled the country twice, but he never fell silent. Now
he runs for office, coming in second in the race for mayor of
Panama City, and is expected to run again.
Another of the professors is Dennis Rasmussen, an animal psychologist
who, besides teaching, conducts primate research on the islands
of the International Primate Sanctuary of Panama.
Whether they're teaching Shakespeare, physics, computer science
or comparative government, the professors at FSU's Panama branch,
like the people of Panama, talk about politics instead of the
weather.
"Panama is obsessed with politics," explains Gerald
Cooklin, a computer science professor who shares the obsession.
Since Noriega lost power in 1989, the political talk has flowed
more freely, but it was never entirely suppressed, especially
on campus.
Koster remembers that during the military dictatorship, the FSU
campus enjoyed "one of the most impressive examples of academic
freedom ever ... an island of freedom."
Bruno, who was a Panamanian child when the military dictatorship
began, left home as soon as he could and didn't dream of going
back until Noriega was removed.
Bernal says his most exciting classes are the ones where students
from different countries compare their governments and politics.
The comparisons are not just U.S./Panama. Many of the students
are from other continents, residing in Panama because their parents
are running international banks (Panama has 125), doing business
in the free trade zone or employed by the Canal.
Wherever they are from, the students have always been at least
bilingual, and the classes are conducted in English.
But most of the conversations in the hall are in Spanish now.
Though Seminole football posters adorn the walls, the game played
is soccer.
The student lounge on the new campus, which will start to fill up this month, looks like a large screened porch, surrounded by oversized (to Florida eyes) mango trees and coconut palms. But the outside wall is glass, not screen, and the view is of the soccer field, the Pacific Ocean, the Canal, ocean vessels waiting to enter the Canal and the Bridge of the Americas, the only way to go from Eastern Panama to Western.
A few miles away is a more primitive setting: the islands where indigenous primates, students from Scotland and Sri Lanka and Seminole fans mix comfortably. Or the mix is as comfortable as it can be when the toilet is an outdoor ditch and the dorms have mosquito nets instead of walls. The generator supports computers, but is not powerful enough for televisions or air conditioners.
Rasmussen persuaded the Panamanian government to make a primate
sanctuary of 14 islands in Lake Gatun, and cooperate with FSU-Panama
to use it for research and teaching.
"It's pretty amazing that Panama has put enough trust and
faith in FSU to give us primary custodial care of the place,"
Rasmussen said from the little boat he uses to go from one island
to another. (As he pulls up to an island, Rasmussen lets out
a loud croak from his throat, and the resident primates often
respond by swinging out on the trees to the beach to see him.)
The next good deal for Florida State was negotiated by Rick
Jenks, FSU's director of college programs (including the Panama
branch), who persuaded Panamanian education officials to turn
the campus at Panama City over to Florida State.
Jenks, the faculty and the Panamanian educators envision an expanded
role for Florida State's Panama branch.
While most of the students who stay at the Panama branch for all four years are majoring now in computer science - a program started in 1981 by Gerald Cooklin, who acquired his "first generation" computer addiction in the British Royal Air Force - other majors are available, and the possibilities are much greater.
Professors and administrators agree that the campus is a natural
for business, for example. They say most of their students are
interested in studying business. And they point out that the
little country is rich with international finance and commerce.
Because of the research on the Panamanian islands, Koster says
the Panama branch will be perfect for graduate and undergraduate
work in tropical biology, marine biology, animal psychology and
oceanography.
And Jenks offers it as a splendid place to study abroad: two oceans, two languages, jungle, city, people from everywhere and a faculty well prepared to bring it all together.