Read Online The Two Koreas: A Contemporary History by Don Oberdorfer, Robert Carlin - Free Book Online
Authors: Don Oberdorfer, Robert Carlin
Ads: Link
shutting off the electricity whenever it chose.
In yet another effort to impress, the government took the visitors for a drive on the recently opened expressway that ran from Seoul down the length of the peninsula to the southern city of Pusan. To create more traffic, Seoulites were asked to drive their cars on the highway even if they had no place to go, and a transport firm was asked to drive its big trailers along the nearby parts of the road. A northern visitor, perhaps getting wind of this exercise in mobilization (the kind of thing that was commonplace in Pyongyang), congratulated one of the heads of the southern delegation for his success in “bringing all the vehicles in the country to Seoul” to buttress its claims to prosperity. “That was difficult, but not nearly as hard as bringing all the tall buildings here for you to look at” was the reply.
The opening ceremony in a hotel ballroom dramatized the political character of the meeting. Believing that the highly ideological northerners would overreach and offend the broad mass of the generally conservative South Korean public, which was passionately in favor of unification but also fearful of communism and imbued with the memory of the 1950–1953 war, the Seoul government had decided to televise the speeches live. The North Korean political adviser, Yun Ki Bok, attacked the United States, referred to “the nation’s glorious capital, Pyongyang,” and praised “the Great Leader,” whereupon hundreds of telephone calls of protest, some stimulated by Seoul’s ubiquitous intelligence agency, flooded the switchboards of the television station and local police. Responding in part to signals from the top, the country’s mood shifted abruptly, from hope to anger. When the North Koreans left the hotel after the opening ceremony, for the first time they encountered silence rather than applause. A North Korean delegate waved to a crowd outside, but this time nobody waved back.
As a spectacle and a roller-coaster ride of deeply felt emotions, the first open diplomatic foray by northerners to the South was impressive. As a negotiating forum, however, it was a flop. It quickly became apparent that the North had little interest in the limited accommodationsfor divided families that were proposed by the South, demanding instead such moves as repeal of the South’s Anti-Communist Law and extensive exchange of political cadres down to the lowest governmental levels.
Rather than have the talks fall apart in Seoul, however, President Park ordered his delegation to sign a meaningless joint agreement extolling the spirit of “brotherly love” and “Red Cross humanitarianism” and postponing serious negotiation for a future meeting in the North Korean capital. Park decided it would not be in keeping with Korean courtesy to clash sharply with the visitors and have the talks collapse at such an early point while he was the official host.
PARK CHUNG HEE
The dominant figure in South Korea was in many respects almost the opposite of his North Korean counterpart. Whereas Kim Il Sung had been an anti-Japanese guerrilla fighter, Park Chung Hee had attended the Japanese military academy, had become an officer in the Japanese army, and, as required at the time, had even temporarily taken a Japanese name, Masao Takagi. And whereas Kim was a big man, who tended to dominate with his presence and his outgoing, confident personality, Park Chung Hee was small and wiry, seemingly self-contained and often aloof. During my one personal interview with Park, in June 1975, this powerful and greatly feared political leader seemed reticent and shy, almost smaller than life, as he sat in a big chair in his Blue House office. As we talked, he toyed with a tiny chihuahua dog in his lap and rarely looked me in the eye.
Responding to different sets of external relationships and espousing different ideologies, Park and Kim had one thing in common: each had come to dominate his respective
In yet another effort to impress, the government took the visitors for a drive on the recently opened expressway that ran from Seoul down the length of the peninsula to the southern city of Pusan. To create more traffic, Seoulites were asked to drive their cars on the highway even if they had no place to go, and a transport firm was asked to drive its big trailers along the nearby parts of the road. A northern visitor, perhaps getting wind of this exercise in mobilization (the kind of thing that was commonplace in Pyongyang), congratulated one of the heads of the southern delegation for his success in “bringing all the vehicles in the country to Seoul” to buttress its claims to prosperity. “That was difficult, but not nearly as hard as bringing all the tall buildings here for you to look at” was the reply.
The opening ceremony in a hotel ballroom dramatized the political character of the meeting. Believing that the highly ideological northerners would overreach and offend the broad mass of the generally conservative South Korean public, which was passionately in favor of unification but also fearful of communism and imbued with the memory of the 1950–1953 war, the Seoul government had decided to televise the speeches live. The North Korean political adviser, Yun Ki Bok, attacked the United States, referred to “the nation’s glorious capital, Pyongyang,” and praised “the Great Leader,” whereupon hundreds of telephone calls of protest, some stimulated by Seoul’s ubiquitous intelligence agency, flooded the switchboards of the television station and local police. Responding in part to signals from the top, the country’s mood shifted abruptly, from hope to anger. When the North Koreans left the hotel after the opening ceremony, for the first time they encountered silence rather than applause. A North Korean delegate waved to a crowd outside, but this time nobody waved back.
As a spectacle and a roller-coaster ride of deeply felt emotions, the first open diplomatic foray by northerners to the South was impressive. As a negotiating forum, however, it was a flop. It quickly became apparent that the North had little interest in the limited accommodationsfor divided families that were proposed by the South, demanding instead such moves as repeal of the South’s Anti-Communist Law and extensive exchange of political cadres down to the lowest governmental levels.
Rather than have the talks fall apart in Seoul, however, President Park ordered his delegation to sign a meaningless joint agreement extolling the spirit of “brotherly love” and “Red Cross humanitarianism” and postponing serious negotiation for a future meeting in the North Korean capital. Park decided it would not be in keeping with Korean courtesy to clash sharply with the visitors and have the talks collapse at such an early point while he was the official host.
PARK CHUNG HEE
The dominant figure in South Korea was in many respects almost the opposite of his North Korean counterpart. Whereas Kim Il Sung had been an anti-Japanese guerrilla fighter, Park Chung Hee had attended the Japanese military academy, had become an officer in the Japanese army, and, as required at the time, had even temporarily taken a Japanese name, Masao Takagi. And whereas Kim was a big man, who tended to dominate with his presence and his outgoing, confident personality, Park Chung Hee was small and wiry, seemingly self-contained and often aloof. During my one personal interview with Park, in June 1975, this powerful and greatly feared political leader seemed reticent and shy, almost smaller than life, as he sat in a big chair in his Blue House office. As we talked, he toyed with a tiny chihuahua dog in his lap and rarely looked me in the eye.
Responding to different sets of external relationships and espousing different ideologies, Park and Kim had one thing in common: each had come to dominate his respective
Similar Books
