The peace talks that are not going to happen
There is something admirable about the government's determination to talk to North Korea.
There is also something increasingly disconnected from reality about it.
On Wednesday, Unification Minister Chung Dong-young told a parliamentary audit that last month’s land mine explosion in the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) had made the need for “fundamental peace” on the Korean Peninsula “ever more crucial.”
He is right about the need. But the incident points to a more fundamental problem: There is unlikely to be a peace process because the conditions for one do not exist.
Just a day earlier, Pyongyang issued bellicose threats after the defense ministry informed lawmakers that the North had been planting land mines in the southern portion of the DMZ's no-man's land.
Three South Korean soldiers were injured on Sept. 21, two of them seriously, by these mines.
For the next breath to be an offer of peace sounds like we see it all as a ghastly misunderstanding. But it’s not. We’re in a complicated situation in which peace is not going to be created simply by deciding that peace is desirable.
The first requirement for peace talks is that both sides want to have them, or at least have no other option.
We’re not there. Let’s put ourselves in North Korea’s position for ten seconds and admit that the current state of “war” — one where there’s no actual fighting, apart from the occasional skirmish or mishap — suits them perfectly.
Why? It allows the regime to survive. As the rulers over the version of Korea that has spectacularly failed, peace would be the end of Kim and his friends.
Let’s not kid ourselves that Pyongyang misunderstands. It knows that if there were peace, it would face a South Korea that has spectacularly outperformed it economically, politically and internationally. It knows that the comparison itself is dangerous.
For decades, South Korean governments approached North Korea on the assumption that the two Koreas, despite their differences, shared a fundamental interest in eventual reconciliation. Presidents differed over how to achieve it, but the basic framework remained: two Korean governments talking about the future of the Korean Peninsula.
At some point, the Kim dynasty appears to have concluded that it could not win that competition. And finally, to our surprise, Kim Jong-un dismantled his part of the old peace-and-unification framework.
He no longer describes South Korea as a rebel-held zone that might one day be brought back into the fold, but as a hostile foreign state.
This is the uncomfortable reality confronting President Lee Jae Myung's government. It is particularly irksome for parts of the South Korean left because they learned young that Americans and dictators had kept the Koreas apart and grew up believing that the two sides could eventually be reunited.
The problem is that the North Korean side of that old narrative has disappeared.
Seoul can propose dialogue. It can invite military talks. It can promise peaceful coexistence. It can say that communication is preferable to confrontation — but none of those declarations can manufacture an iota of trust in Pyongyang.
Trust is not a minor ingredient in peace. It is the foundation.
The problem goes deeper. The Korean Peninsula has not been at peace since 1953. It has been governed by an armistice that suspended the fighting but never formally ended the Korean War.
A peace treaty would require agreement about the nature of the relationship between the parties, the status of the border, military forces, nuclear weapons, verification and the security concerns of both sides.
At present, those conditions are nowhere near being met.
North Korea possesses nuclear weapons and regards them as essential to its security. South Korea lives under the protection of the United States and remains firmly committed to its alliance with Washington. North Korea sees the South Korean-U.S. military relationship as a threat. Seoul sees North Korea's nuclear arsenal and military provocations as threats to its survival.
These are not misunderstandings that can be cleared up over lunch. They are conflicting security systems.
That does not mean Seoul should abandon dialogue — but it should distinguish between wanting talks and expecting talks. The first is a policy choice. The second depends on the other side.
Perhaps the most important contribution Lee's government can make to peace is therefore not another invitation to Pyongyang, but rather to have patience.
In the meantime, its duty is to carry a big stick — preserving deterrence and maintaining the alliance with the United States, its long-suffering friend.
It should start by dropping the delusion that all is ready and that peace is just around the corner.
Michael Breen (mike.breen@insightcomms.com) is the author of "The New Koreans.” The views expressed here are his own.