Page 1 of 2 The facts and fables of a unified Korea
By Andrei Lankov
SEOUL - Roh Moo-hyun, former president of Korea (2002-2007), this month
delivered a lengthy speech on the policy he believes Seoul should follow in
dealing with North Korea.
The text was remarkable for its frankness. The former chief executive of South
Korea said that the only viable form of unification with the North is a
confederation (he made a number of comparisons with the European Union), and
this confederation might be achieved with the current North Korean regime
staying in power.
Roh explained that "putting emphasis on liberal democracy" is not a sign of a
realistic approach to unification. He also stated that unilateral concessions
and giveaways to the North are vital for
keeping peace in the peninsula. The former president also explained that
"questions of refugees and questions of human rights in North Korea should be
treated with care" because both support for human rights and aid to refugees
are likely to irritate the Pyongyang government.
The speech was interesting and honest, although ideas expressed are not quite
new. It is clear that Roh merely explained the ideology and assumptions behind
his own previous policy. Nonetheless, it is noteworthy that its full text was
published not by Roh's left-nationalists supporters but by his rightist
opponents who see some of these statements (perhaps correctly) as a major blow
to Roh's reputation and legacy.
However, what is of special interest about the speech is a clear tendency to
abandon the vision of unification as the supreme national goal. Roh stressed a
number of times that while unification is desirable, peace and stability on the
peninsula are more important. In fact, this is what many Koreans think - and an
increasing number doubt whether unification is really such a good idea.
This is a remarkable break with the past. When the Republic of Korea was
established in 1948, its government unequivocally stated that its jurisdiction
should extend straight to the Chinese border. Officially, the North Korean
state was not a state at all, but merely a bunch or rebels who came to control
some areas in the northern part of the country.
It is not incidental that in those days a common name for North Korean forces
was kongpi or "communist bandits". (Nowadays, one suspects, they would
be called "terrorists", but in the 1940s this term had far less explosive
connotations). In time, it was assumed, the "communist bands" would be driven
away and order would be restored throughout the land.
Incidentally, the North Korean official world picture was no different.
Pyongyang described itself as the sole legitimate regime on the peninsula and
insisted that the Seoul government was nothing a bunch of American
collaborationists. But both sides remained firmly committed to unification,
although each side believed that it should be achieved under its complete
control.
In 1950, the North attempted to unify the country by force, but failed.
Nonetheless, the commitment to unification as a supreme goal - albeit
increasingly theoretical - remained the basis of the worldview in both parts of
the divided country.
Under Syngman Rhee (1948-1960) unification was presented as the major goal of
the government. During the subsequent rule of the military (1961-1987) the
emphasis switched to economic growth, but even this was explained as a way to
create foundations for eventual unification. The official rhetoric became less
heated as well, but it was still assumed in Seoul that unification should be
basically achieved on South Korean conditions. South Korean middle school
students were told about sufferings of the compatriots under the communist yoke
and of the need to liberate them at the first opportunity.
While actual interest slowly waned, lip service to unification continued to be
paid in countless public rituals. In the South Korean political vocabulary, the
word "unification" came to designate everything related to North Korea. The
government agency which handled the North Korean policy was named the Ministry
of Unification, and studies of North Korea in the 1990s were frequently
described as "unification studies".
However, from around 1980, a powerful leftist movement emerged in the South.
Young people who had grown up amid one of the greatest economic breakthroughs
in modern history came to reject the booming society around them. In some
cases, the attention of the young dissenters turned to the Soviet-style
Leninist project while others began to read North Korean literature and
imagined the North as a paradise of social justice, unspoiled Koreanness and,
somehow, democracy. Ironically, this boost of enthusiasm for both Soviet
socialism and North Korea's juche philosophy happened exactly when the
Soviet Union began to crumble. Soon after, the North Korean economy nosedived.
However, the revived South Korean left was surprisingly nationalistic and
fervent believers in unification. In their worldview, the major obstacle was
the position of the South Korean elite and their evil paymaster, United States
imperialism. It was assumed that without their resistance the unification would
be achieved easily - perhaps with some confederation being a first step towards
the goal. Of course, the young firebrands believed that the North was a land of
prosperity and economic power, bestowed with the world's most progressive
social system, so they did not expect any economic troubles ahead. If anything,
their fervor for unification was stronger than that of their opponents. As time
went by, the anti-communist right lost much interest in the North, although
this could not be admitted openly.
By about 1990, the South became a deeply divided society, with left and right
arguing about pretty much everything. Still, they shared the belief that
unification should be the major goal of Korea. One of the most common political
terms of abuse in the country was to describe an opponent as an "enemy of
unification".
Meanwhile, serious changes began to occur. First of all, the number of people
in the South who have ever had direct contact with the North is dwindling. As
of 2005, people born before 1940 constituted merely 5.8% of South Korea's
population. They are the only people, however, who might possible have
first-hand memories of the North or North Korean relatives and family members.
The younger generation have spent their lives in a world where the North has
sometimes mattered as a military threat, but otherwise remained a complete
unknown and, generally, irrelevant geographic area.
Second, around 1996-1997, the South Korean nationalist left faced a major
crisis. The economic collapse and subsequent famine experienced by North Korea
at the time seriously undermined the myth of the North as a viable alternative
to the South. Remarkable increases in contact with the Northerners (both direct
and indirect, via China) made it impossible to deny reports of North Korea's
destitution as "fabrications of the reactionary forces".
It began to dawn on South Korean leftists that the North was a very poor Third
World country. Some - but not all - of the Seoul leftists also came to realize
that the North's political system was highly repressive, although they still
try to find excuses and play down the brutality of the North Korean
dictatorship (while being unforgiving when it comes to much softer dictatorial
regimes on South Korea's own part). Still, only a small faction of people in
the South now seriously consider the North as a viable alternative.
Third, the bitter German experience made the Seoul decision-makers and general
public realize that the unification of the North and South would be more
expensive and painful than anybody had imagined. The difference in per capita
income between East and West Germany was 1:2/5, while in Korea, even if one
believes the most optimistic estimate, the ratio is 1:17 (pessimists think it
is actually closer to 1:50). The ratio of the population is also less favorable
then in Germany. Taking into consideration the ongoing German troubles, well
known in Seoul, this sounds like a recipe for disaster.
Thus, in 1997, when the left-of-center administration was elected for its first
chance to run the country, the entire paradigm began to change. On the
declaratory level and in the political rhetoric, unification remained
universally accepted as the supreme national goal, even though from the late
1990s one could see a decline in commitment to this stated goal among the
younger generation of South Koreans. However, under the new circumstances Seoul
was not in a great hurry to reach this goal, and did not make a secret of its
reluctance. A prolonged period of peaceful co-existence and collaboration came
to be seen as a necessary first step on the way to complete unification.
Such was the background which led to a switch in the "Sunshine" policy. This
policy was launched by Kim Dae-jung's government
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