Garrison Town Wary of Korea Peace Steps
Southerners Fear the Economic Cost
By Howard W. French
New York Times, October 2, 2000
International Herald Tribune, October 3, 2000TONGDUCHON, South Korea -- For as long as anyone can remember in this garrison town of low-slung barracks and rundown shops, the threat of attack by enemy troops massed just across the border has been a constant as fixed and certain as the change of seasons.
And for those who are tempted to forget, every day brings its unpleasant reminders -- from the helicopters that clatter loudly overhead throughout the day to the American soldiers in their combat boots and fatigues tramping through the narrow streets in search of entertainment or shopping bargains.
Sitting a bare 20 miles from the border with North Korea, this town would seem to have every reason to celebrate the warming of South Korea's relations with the North. But instead of enthusiasm -- never mind giddiness -- the people of Tongduchon regard their country's growing diplomatic closeness with the North with a wariness bordering on hard-bitten skepticism.
Most of all, they say they worry that their country will be bled dry financially in its search for peace with the vastly poorer North -- or that it will somehow be tricked into letting its guard down, paving the way for renewed conflict.
''This is a really good thing for all Koreans, of course,'' said Han Jae Pil, a building contractor who paused from the renovation he was carrying out on a restaurant on a dusty side street near the town's bus depot. ''But as the weeks go by, the euphoria has turned to realism. And what we fear is that our government is spending a lot of money simply to keep North Korea's door cracked open.''
After nearly 50 years of grim face-off between the two Koreas -- marked by Northern commando attacks against South Korean leaders, airplane bombings and constant incursions by secret tunnels and minisubmarines -- the diplomacy between the two countries that began with a summit meeting in June is nothing short of unprecedented.
But for the gritty South Koreans, long accustomed to peril from hostile neighbors, relaxation does not come easily. In a series of interviews this week, both in this border region and in the capital, Seoul, people seemed far more grouchy than hopeful, and they focused on their worries far more readily than on their dreams.
This country has enjoyed one of the world's highest growth rates during the last two generations, rocketing up from the ashes of the Korean War in 1953, when it was as poor as the poorest African nation, to the world's 12th largest economy. But the Asian economic crisis of two years ago hit hard here, and fears of renewed difficulties are surprisingly strong.
''As Koreans, we cannot avoid helping our northern brothers,'' said Lee Je Sung, a clothing retailer who was watching his country's Olympic baseball team play on television at a Chinese restaurant. ''But the way we are giving money to North Korea has really disenchanted a lot of people. If we are not more cautious, we'll end up with another economic crisis.''
Each week seems to bring a new announcement of food aid or ''reconstruction assistance'' for the North. And opposition politicians, sensing the public unease over this new spending, have moved eagerly onto the attack. Indeed, Kim Young Sam, a former president, has vowed to block the visit of the North Korean leader, Kim Jong Il, who is to come to Seoul for the second inter-Korean summit meeting early next year.
If few Koreans seemed like they wished to see the summit diplomacy halted altogether, many said they feared that their country was being played like a fiddle.
''Who knows what is really going on when they get together to talk?'' said a chain-smoking shopkeeper who was discussing matters with a fellow businessman on Tongduchon's main strip, where American soldiers peered into store windows comparing prices. ''Somehow you just get the feeling that the North controls the levers,'' he said. ''As long as we pay, they'll keep the talks going, but if the money slows, the talks will stop.''
The other man said in agreement: ''There's got to be more of an exchange. Good will is a two-way street.''
Like many others, these men complained that except where money is concerned, North Korea always seems to insist on the slowest possible pace for cooperation between the two countries, like the family reunification program that is arranging visits of 100 people at a time, out of a pool of millions.
In Seoul, a city whose extraordinary growth can be measured by the huge new bridges that are built across the Han River every few months, the sense of caution about what has been going on with the North these last few months is no less acute.
Unlike the countryside, with its aging population, the capital teems with young people, and they too are full of questions -- sometimes seemingly conflicting questions -- about what reunification will cost their generation, why 37,000 Americans troops must remain here, and whether peace is really at hand at all.
''People of my age group are not in favor of quick reunification,'' said Kim Sinae, a 21-year-old Spanish major at Duksung Women's University in Seoul. ''Sure it would be great to have one large country, and cut our military burden, but when you think of what it would cost our country to support the North, which is really very poor, it takes your enthusiasm right away.'' Ms. Kim spoke at a Starbucks in central Seoul that was filled with students, and a lively discussion immediately ensued.
''Unification will bring lots of frustrations and lots of confusion,'' said Choi Sunyoun, 20, a college student. ''The North still firmly believes that their country has the right ideology. But just as we accepted ideas from the outside so that we could develop, they too will learn. In fact, our mistakes will make it easier for them, and we will advance together.''
Copyright New York Times Company Oct 2, 2000
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