South Korea's Resistance: A 'Parallel Universe'

There's a mountain standing in the way of U.S.-led efforts to sanction North Korea after its Oct. 9 nuclear-weapons test--literally. Mount Kumgang, a.k.a. Diamond Mountain, is the site of the most extensive inter-Korean development project since the end of the 1950-53 Korean War. Over the past eight years some 1.3 million southerners have crossed the 38th parallel to tour its scenic slopes and steal a first glimpse inside the North. Seoul considers that a smashing success, yet in Washington's view the project is mainly a cash cow for North Korean dictator Kim Jong Il that has funneled his regime some $500 million. That perception gap didn't narrow when U.S. Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice met South Korean leaders in Seoul last week but failed to win their agreement to block the flow of tourist buses. South Korean officials privately say they can "modify" the tour project, but not close it down.

The disagreement is at the heart of an ideological rift now separating the cold-war allies. So-called neoconservatives have played a central role in the formulation of U.S. President George W. Bush's foreign policy. In Seoul, an antithetical group of progressive "neoliberal" scholars with key positions in President Roh Moo Hyun's Blue House reject U.S. calls for "regime change" in Pyongyang, or other extreme efforts to roll back its nuclear program. To them, inter-Korean exchange, over time, is the best way to draw Kim Jong Il's regime out of isolation. "We do think the nuclear crisis is the issue today, but we also know that we have to change North Korea to solve a lot of other problems," says Jun Bong Geun, director of unification studies at the Institute of Foreign Affairs and National Security in Seoul. "We're pursuing two goals, the U.S. only one."

The most prominent South Korean progressive is 48-year-old Lee Jong Seouk, a man opposition leaders have denounced as a "Pyongyang spy." He holds two key cabinet posts--Unification minister and head of the National Security Council. In 2002, Lee criticized the Defense ministry's habit of declaring North Korea the South's "principal enemy" in its yearly White Paper. After President Roh took office, that language was deleted, and since 2004 the ministry has not published another White Paper on North Korea's Army. Another prominent progressive is 58-year-old Song Min Soon, a chief presidential security advisor. Last Wednesday, Song said America had been involved in "more wars than any other country in the world," adding: "If we trust our fate to the United Nations, that would be tantamount to giving up our fate."

The liberal world view was forged crucially by U.S. support for South Korea's dictatorship in the 1980s. Today many blame Washington's neocons, not Pyongyang's "Dear Leader," for the nuclear crisis. "Visitors from the U.S. often ask me: 'Is Kim Jong Il crazy?' " says Peter Beck of the International Crisis Group in Seoul. "But whenever I go on South Korean TV somebody always asks me: 'Is Bush crazy enough to attack North Korea?' " He describes the political reality in South Korea as "a parallel universe" to that in Washington. That's a high mountain of misunderstanding to climb.