Poisoning the Peace: Beyond a Nuclear North Korea

Jessica Carter discusses the security crisis posed by North Korea’s nuclear program.

A heated match of soccer always arouses plenty of excitement and tension on the field, which, let’s face it, is why we love to watch the game. A qualifier match for next year’s World Cup, which saw North and South Korea play against each other in April, was no exception.

But when the North lost to the South 1-0, the tension could be felt off the field as well. North Korea’s coach, Kim Jong Hun, accused South Korea of poisoning his players. Furthermore, the North’s football association claimed the alleged poisoning was part of Seoul’s “moves for confrontation” with North Korea’s capital Pyongyang.

Just four days later, North Korea defied international warnings and launched a test rocket over Japan and into space. It was hardly the fearsome event it might have been – part of the missile fell off, landing in the Sea of Japan – but suspicions were still aroused. The Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) claimed it was the peaceful launch of a communications satellite. However, the consensus among the United States, Japan and South Korea is that the failed launch was a cover for a long-range missile test. The United Nations Security Council condemned the launch as a violation of its resolution banning ballistic missile testing.

Relations between the North, its Southern neighbour, and the rest of the world have continued to deteriorate ever since. North Korea soon announced it would not participate in talks with the international community about its nuclear disarmament, expelling all UN nuclear inspectors from its Yongbyon plant.

“For a country that goes to such lengths to seal its borders and internal politics off from the rest of the world, North Korea manages to hold the world’s attention quite effectively.”

For a country that goes to such lengths to seal its borders and internal politics off from the rest of the world, North Korea manages to hold the world’s attention quite effectively. It is a paradox that almost certainly drives North Korea’s careful projection of itself as the big, bad communist nuclear power. The fear North Korea creates through its potential for nuclear action ensures that the rest of the world continues to pay it attention.

In the past, that attention has equated to foreign aid and Pyongyang’s guaranteed place in security discussions in Washington. Despite North Korea’s poverty-stricken population and limited diplomatic ties, its missile development program keeps it on the map. It was no accident that the latest explosion of DPRK security threats conveniently leapt onto news pages and government agendas around the time of U.S. President Barack Obama’s inauguration.

By ensuring that international discussion about the DPRK is dictated by security concerns, North Korea has effectively evaded formal criticism of the humanitarian crisis facing its people. So far, at least 50,000 North Koreans have fled across the border to China, where they face arrest and deportation. In North Korea, these refugees face three to five years in a prison labour camp. The UN World Food Programme estimates that more than a third of the North Korean population is in need of food aid.

Despite these food shortages and the prospect of economic collapse, in March this year, just before the launch of its test rocket, aid groups in North Korea were told to leave. In the past, certain provinces receiving aid have been closed to external monitoring, and only North Korean translators can be used by foreign aid programs. The veil behind which North Korea hides means that any domestic violation of human rights can occur in a largely unacknowledged, if not completely unnoticed, manner. If the DPRK continues to expend funds on its defence capabilities in the coming months, the economic and humanitarian situation for the people of North Korea will only worsen.

The separation of North and South Korea at the end of World War Two established a buffer zone running between the two countries, known as the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ). As the most heavily militarised border in the world, the DMZ epitomises the difficulty of the task that lies ahead in dealing with the current security and humanitarian crisis in North Korea. Establishing a better relationship between the two Koreas is important, as North Korea’s diplomatic relations with the South have a heavy impact on its decisions to issue military threats. Unfortunately, relations have rapidly deteriorated since South Korea’s conservative President Lee Myung-bak took office last year. The South’s extremely close relationship with the United States also limits the prospects of reconciliation on the Korean peninsula. A media poll in 2004 found that more South Koreans viewed the United States, and not North Korea, as the main threat to national security. The U.S. needs to let inter-Korean relations improve on their own terms; indeed, progress in that respect may also mean diplomatic progress with North Korea for the rest of the international community.

By making security threats and continuing to create an atmosphere of fear and uncertainty, North Korea can maintain a certain level of influence over the international community. Yet, despite the potential security threat posed by the DPRK, it still has not attempted much more than just that – threats and sabre-rattling. In light of this, international thinking about North Korea needs to move beyond the security crisis and address the humanitarian implications of the current regime. It is also vital that relations between the North and South be allowed to improve – so that, at the very least, next year’s World Cup does not involve poisoning allegations.

Jessica Carter is in her fourth year of a Bachelor of Arts (Media and Communications). She completed internships in Seoul at the Australian Embassy and at the English language newspaper, The Korea Herald, in January and February this year.