From Seoul to Delhi: A shared legacy of freedom and sacrifice

D.P.K. Pillay

Seventy-five years ago, on June 25, 1950, war erupted on the Korean Peninsula, splitting an ethnically homogenous people into two starkly different states. This division, like the partition of India, left a deep and enduring chasm between people who once shared a common history but were torn apart by political ideologies. Today, the contrast between the two Koreas serves as a profound lesson of the enduring strength of the people versus the often unrelenting grip of the state.

During my recent months in South Korea as a Korea Foundation fellow affiliated with Seoul National University, this lesson has come alive in vivid detail. On June 3, South Koreans went to the polls and peacefully elected a new president — a quiet yet powerful testament to democratic maturity. The process was remarkably calm, especially when compared to the more vibrant and noisy electoral theater of India, with its loudspeakers, posters and visible influence of money and muscle. And yet, both nations, born from colonial trauma, have long upheld the sanctity of peaceful power transitions. This democratic resilience sets them apart from others formed in the same era, such as Pakistan, often under military rule, and North Korea, where dynastic authoritarianism has crushed hope for generations.

To an Indian observer, life in South Korea feels like stepping into the future. The super-fast trains, hyperefficient public transport and immaculate urban spaces are stunning. There’s a sense of collective discipline and aesthetic harmony in everyday life, from the fashionably dressed commuters to the pristine subway stations. South Korea has not only adopted global trends but also created iconic global brands, from Samsung and LG, to Kia and Lotte, radiating innovation from Seoul’s skyscrapers to its serene countryside.

In stark contrast, accounts from fellow Korea Foundation scholars who have spent time in North Korea paint a grim picture. There are no authentic global brands, only counterfeit imitations. Restaurants and markets are often façades, mere displays for propaganda rather than functioning establishments. It’s a world built on illusion, with little space for dignity or personal aspiration.

Democracy in South Korea is not just a political structure — it is a deeply felt value. Memorials on university campuses, subway stations and public plazas honor those who fought for freedom. That a president who once displayed authoritarian tendencies could be peacefully replaced, without upheaval, speaks volumes about the strength of democratic institutions here.

As an Indian, I cannot help but admire South Korea’s transformation. Our nations both emerged from colonial shadows — India from British exploitation, epitomized by the horrors of the Bengal famine of 1943, and Korea from the brutality of Japanese imperial rule, marked by forced labor, cultural erasure and systemic violence. Korea has preserved its painful history through countless memorials, not just as reminders of suffering, but as vows to never be colonized again.

There’s much India can learn from South Korea’s emphasis on public order, citizen-centered governance and urban efficiency. Here, the police are seen as protectors, not threats. The state serves its people, not the other way around. Leadership is held accountable and norms are respected, not flouted. Some may attribute this to surveillance or strict law enforcement, but I believe the peaceful transition of power in recent elections reflects a deeper civic discipline.

India’s role in the Korean War was marked by its commitment to humanitarianism and diplomacy. Though we didn’t send combat troops, we made contributions. India was among the first to label North Korea as the aggressor and offered medical assistance through the 60th Parachute Field Ambulance, which operated on the front lines and treated both soldiers and civilians in Daegu.

India also played a pivotal role during the war as a diplomatic intermediary between the U.S. and China. Indian Ambassador K.M. Panikkar delivered crucial intelligence, warning of likely Chinese intervention if U.N. forces crossed the 38th parallel. He even foresaw the danger of nuclear escalation, acting as a quiet but critical conduit between global powers.

Perhaps most notably, India chaired the Neutral Nations Repatriation Commission, led by General K.S. Thimayya, which advocated for voluntary prisoner repatriation, resisting Chinese pressure for forced returns. The 6,000-strong Custodian Force of India ensured prisoners had the right to choose, and even repatriated 88 individuals who chose neither Korea. Figures like Unni Nayar, a U.N. official honored in Daegu, symbolize India’s quiet yet impactful role in healing the wounds of war and upholding human dignity.

Today, the relationship between India and South Korea continues to grow, fueled by mutual respect, shared values and economic synergy. South Korean companies are integral to India’s economy, and Indian professionals — many in senior roles — are contributing to South Korea’s growth. Unlike labor-centric migration elsewhere, the Indian presence here reflects a high level of intellectual and professional engagement.

This bond also draws from shared spiritual heritage. Buddhism, which originated in India, continues to live on in South Korea’s temples, with statues of the Bodhisattva quietly watching over a people who have endured — and triumphed — through adversity. These enduring symbols serve as a bridge of empathy and shared memory between two cultures.

The tale of the two Koreas is ultimately a story about choice — about what happens when nations prioritize freedom, accountability and human dignity versus when they don’t. On one side stand India and South Korea: democracies bound by shared history and mutual admiration. On the other are regimes like Pakistan and North Korea, where the military and state apparatus often crush their own people.

As India celebrates its rise from the wreckage of partition and famine, and Korea reflects on 75 years since the start of its painful war, both nations should take pride in what they have built, and what they continue to build together.

At the War Memorial of Korea, two symbolic clocks stand: one frozen at 4 a.m. on June 25, 1950 — the moment the war began — and the other ticking patiently, awaiting the day the two halves of the peninsula might be reunited. These clocks capture not just loss, but hope. A hope that one day, the Korean people, divided by history, may find unity again. And when that day comes, India will stand with them, just as it did 75 years ago.

Col. D.P.K. Pillay is a fellow of MP-IDSA New Delhi, currently in Korea as a Korea Foundation fellow. He is also an international adviser to the Korean War Memorial organization.