South Korea shows its teeth

By Andrew Salmon

It is not easy for a democracy to deal with a dictatorship. Treat it reasonably, and it takes advantage. Push it too hard, and it might detonate Armageddon. What is an appropriate strategy? Where is the middle ground?

These questions have been repeatedly mulled over by both South Korea and the United States since the 1953 armistice, for the Kimdom has felt confident enough to execute provocation after provocation ― from attempted presidential hits to bloody cabinet bombings; from hit-and-run patrol boat raids to intelligence ship seizures; from ax murders to torpedo attacks; from airliner bombings to artillery barrages.

And the above are just Pyongyang's lethal moves. Missile launches and nuclear tests continue to show the ineffectuality of the international community, while bellicose rhetoric and unpredictable behavior generates ― to quote a phrase greatly overused by imprecise hacks and newspaper headline writers ― "increasing regional tensions."

In response, what have Seoul and Washington done? Not bloody much. Presidents have wagged fingers, generals have thumped tables, and diplomats have frowned and fidgeted. Ground, naval and air forces have been deployed in "shows of strength." Stern warnings have been delivered. And sanctions have been imposed.

What the two allies have not done ― bar a failed special forces amphibious operation in 1968, one of the bloodiest years of the Asian Cold War ― is to hit back in a manner effective enough to deter Pyongyang from further provocations.

Recent events suggest that Seoul has now decided enough is enough. It has shown its teeth ― and in so doing, has also displayed a formidable pair of national cojones.

In response to a landmine ambush that maimed two South Korean soldiers, South Korea deployed 11 loudspeaker banks along the border and unleashed a propaganda barrage northward. North Korea upped the ante by firing three shells south. South Korea retaliated by firing dozens back.

Pyongyang then declared a "quasi-state of war" and told Seoul to pull the plug or face military action 48 hours hence. Seoul ― for once- called Pyongyang's bluff, went on full alert and kept the propaganda running. Just three hours before its own doomsday ultimatum expired, Pyongyang got the vapors and called Seoul for talks.

The outcome of those talks we now know.

I credit this result to the man who is, I think it is fair to say, South Korea's premier badass: National Security Advisor Kim Kwan-jin.

The craggy, no-nonsense ex-general was bought into government as defense minister in the wake of the 2010 shelling of Yeonpyeong Island. His blood-curdling threats of massive retaliation for any future North Korean attack we now know ― from South Korea's artillery response – to be real.

While credit has gone to President Park Geun-hye for quashing the crisis, it seems clear to me that she was reading from Kim's songbook. Her crisis management during ferry sinking and flu epidemics has been shaky, and on multiple issues ― from ditching promised welfare policies to pardoning imprisoned business godfathers ― she has caved to pressures and reversed course. Her wolfish National Security Advisor, on the other hand, has never wobbled.

Moreover, Pyongyang displayed extreme sensitivity to Seoul's propaganda broadcasts. Batteries of speakers are a humane weapon, easily deployable in the future. In the peninsula's next security crisis, even Pyongyang's closest diplomatic chums (and they are few) can hardly complain that Seoul is overreacting if it beams international news reports, K-pop tunes and bulletins on "the benefits of democracy" over the DMZ and into the bored and impressionable ears of North Korean conscripts.

What makes Seoul's propaganda doubly effective is that Pyongyang has no proportional response. We know from defectors that countless North Koreans are hungry for international media and dazzled by K-pop. I have yet to meet a single South Korean with any real appetite for Pyongyang's muzak ensembles or KCNA broadcasts.

Craftily, Seoul has been deliberately vague on its rules of engagement for propaganda broadcasts, saying it will hit the "on" switch if "abnormal conditions" arise. What constitutes an "abnormal condition?" I don't know and you don't know ― but neither does Kim Jong-un, and that uncertainty might just put a brake on his future hostile behaviors.

The August crisis and its subsequent de-escalation have ended with ― for once ― North Korea looking cowed and ineffectual. By calling Pyongyang's bluff, Seoul has established a benchmark approach for future crises. By unleashing propaganda broadcasts, it has deployed a weapon the enemy cannot respond to in kind.

In sum: South Korea has ― finally ― found effective leverage against North Korea.

Andrew Salmon is a Seoul-based reporter and author. Reach him at andrewcsalmon@yahoo.co.uk.

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