It should not have been a surprise. A February 1949 CIA top-secret study predicted that the U.S. troop withdrawal “would probably in time be followed by an invasion” and that “continued presence in Korea of a moderate U.S. force would not only discourage the threatened invasion but also would help sustain the will and ability of the South Koreans to resist any future invasion.”21
I described to Chung my concern over a new strain of American isolationism based on a wariness of foreign entanglements. This strain traces back to our founding. In his 1801 inaugural address, Thomas Jefferson listed “peace, commerce, and honest friendship with all nations, entangling alliances with none” as “essential principles of our government.” Twenty-first-century skeptics of U.S. military engagement abroad and especially of the wars in Afghanistan, Iraq, and Syria are fond of quoting former president John Quincy Adams that America “goes not abroad in search of monsters to destroy,” while leaving out the context of the fledgling nation’s incomplete task of western expansion, preoccupation with conflicts on the frontier with Native Americans, and lack of financial and military power.22 Profound expressions of isolationist sentiment were manifest in America’s rejection of membership in the League of Nations after World War I and its reluctance to intervene directly in World War II until after Japan attacked Pearl Harbor in December 1941. Pearl Harbor delivered a severe blow not only to the U.S. naval fleet but also to the isolationist movement in the United States. I warned Chung about the revival of American isolationism, as an activist element of President Trump’s political base rallied around building a border wall, defending the United States at the ocean’s edge, and ending protracted overseas commitments. At the very least, the president’s supporters wanted others (especially allies) to pull their own weight. Many viewed allies as free riding on security provided by Uncle Sam while the United States got little in return. Shouldering a fair share of the burden was not a new American concern, but the voices of those who held it were growing louder.
As we spoke, I realized that Chung was the right person in the leftist Moon government to help prevent the perfect storm. His quiet, calm confidence stemmed from his long experience as a diplomat. He had served as South Korea’s ambassador to the United Nations and Israel as well as the deputy minister for trade and minister of economic affairs in Washington. As a member of the South Korean National Assembly, he chaired the Foreign Relations Committee. He looked much younger than his seventy-one years, despite a grueling travel schedule that would have exhausted a much younger man. Chung could also help generate international support for the North Korea strategy as he was well respected across Asia and in Moscow and Beijing. We would have to work hard to stay aligned due not only to the incompatibility of Trump’s and Moon’s domestic supporters, but also because China’s leaders would do their best to divide us.
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AFTER DINNER, we moved out onto the patio, where I conveyed my impressions from President Trump’s summit with Xi Jinping at Mar-a-Lago of two months earlier. I thought that China was likely to use DPRK tensions opportunistically to gain dominant influence in Northeast Asia. If the Kim regime collapsed, the South would dominate a unified Korea, given its much larger population (51 million compared to 25 million) and an economy estimated to be as much as eighty-eight times the North’s size.23 If the Kim regime was ultimately doomed to failure, the best way for China to prevent strong U.S. influence from extending north to the Yalu River was to drive a wedge between Washington and Seoul. Pushing the United States military off the peninsula would leave South Korea vulnerable to Chinese co-option and coercion, the objectives of which would be getting Seoul to align more closely with Beijing than with Washington and isolating China’s most powerful regional competitor, Japan.
China’s strategic priority of pushing the United States out of Northeast Asia explains why American efforts to get China to do more on North Korea were so often met with Chinese officials’ assertions of moral equivalency between North Korea, South Korea, and the United States. After even the most egregious DPRK acts of aggression, China would invariably call on all parties to reduce tensions. To absolve China from responsibility for North Korea’s aggression, Chinese leaders would persistently state that it was a problem between the United States and North Korea.
Beijing tries to obscure the obvious coercive power it has over the Kim regime. At Mar-a-Lago, President Trump told our Chinese counterparts that they could solve the problem of North Korea if they wanted to. He was correct. Over 90 percent of North Korea’s trade is with China, and virtually all the North’s fuel and oil imports come across the Chinese border.24 It is impossible to fire a missile without fuel. To appear as an honest broker, China, after DPRK provocations such as nuclear and missile tests, would invariably suggest a “freeze for freeze,” meaning that North Korea would cease testing in exchange for suspension of ROK-U.S. alliance activities such as joint training exercises. The problem was that each “freeze” reinforced the narrative that North Korea’s actions were defensive while locking in their more advanced capabilities as the new normal. At Mar-a-Lago, however, Pottinger and I discerned a subtle shift in Chinese leaders’ language on North Korea that might have communicated a willingness to soften their cynical manipulation of DPRK’s behavior to advance their long-term goal of hegemonic influence in Asia.
Chinese leaders need to recognize that a nuclear-armed North Korea is bad for China and the world. North Korea’s nuclear weapons would not only pose a direct threat to China, but also incite other nations to consider building their own nuclear capability to deter the Kim regime. Those nations would certainly include Japan and South Korea, but it would not be difficult to imagine similar discussions in Taiwan or Vietnam. Just as the United States played a role in discouraging both South Korea and Japan from pursuing nuclear weapons programs, it was past time for China to do something similar with North Korea.
We did not expect Chinese leaders to have an epiphany and commit fully to denuclearization, but the initial response was, at least, not disappointing. Xi, whose relationship with Kim Jong-un was nonexistent at the time—the two leaders had not yet met in person—dropped the moral equivalency language. There was no invocation of a “freeze for freeze.” Xi seemed to understand that complete, verifiable, irreversible denuclearization was the only acceptable outcome. Chung and I discussed how, despite those positive indicators, China would continue to find ways to undermine the U.S.-ROK alliance and use historical ROK-Japan animosities to isolate Japan. China shares with Korea a deep resentment associated with Imperial Japan’s brutal behavior across Northeast Asia. In addition to occupying Korea for thirty-five years, Japan invaded Manchuria, Shanghai, and Nanking. Especially brutal was the infamous Nanking Massacre, a campaign of killing, torture, and rape from December 1937 to January 1938 that left as many as two hundred thousand to three hundred thousand civilians dead. China takes advantage of animosity for Japan within the South Korean public and President Moon’s party, given this history of shared horrors.
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STRATEGIC EMPATHY applies to allies as well as adversaries. I tried to understand Chung’s and President Moon’s perspective on our alliance as well as on the problem of North Korea. Ambassador Chung was older than the majority of officials in the Moon government and had lived through not only the horrors of the Korean War but also the long history of North Korean aggression after the cease-fire in 1953. He graduated from Seoul National University with a degree in diplomacy in 1968 as North Korea’s United Front strategy to destabilize the South Korean government and undermine the U.S.-ROK alliance intensified. That same year, during his last semester, thirty-one North Korean commandos infiltrated Seoul intending to storm the Blue House, official residence of the South Korean head of state, and kill everyone inside. They were intercepted, and all but two died in the firefight in downtown Seoul. That same month, DPRK submarine chasers and torpedo boats attacked the intelligence ship USS Pueblo near the North Korean coast, killing one sailor and capturi
ng the ship and eighty-three sailors, who were abused and held in captivity for over a year. In October, 120 North Korean commandos attacked from the sea, landing on the east coast and occupying villages in an effort to instigate a Communist revolution. The invaders tried first to recruit the villagers to their cause with tales of the people’s paradise in the North and then murdered those who were visibly unconvinced of how happy they could be under the Kim regime. It took two months for the South Korean military to hunt down the unpersuasive thugs.25 North Korean attacks continued into 1969. On April 15, two People’s Liberation Army Air Force MiG interceptors shot down a defenseless U.S. Navy surveillance aircraft ninety-five miles off the east coast of the DPRK, killing thirty-one Americans.
Moon came of age well after Chung, in the 1980s, as part of a new, politically active generation nicknamed the 386 Generation because they were in their thirties, had attended university in the eighties, and were born in the sixties.26 Also, the Intel 386 microprocessor was the prevalent computer chip then, in the 1990s. For the older generation, the Korean War and South Korea’s recovery were their formative life events, in which the U.S. defended then assisted in their recovery. This led to very strong anti–North Korean and pro-U.S. viewpoints. For the 386ers, their formative experience was the Gwangju Uprising and the perceived U.S. assistance or acquiescence in allowing South Korean forces to violently put down the anti-government demonstrations that eventually led to Chun Doo-hwan’s ascendance to the presidency in 1979. This led to strong anti-U.S. feelings among the 386ers.
The 386ers drove the pro-democracy movement that in 1987 ended decades of authoritarian rule in Seoul. They jump-started an era of democratic reform and spectacular economic growth that remains one of the greatest successes in the history of democracy and capitalism. Once judged by some as incapable of popular rule, South Korea became one of the most vibrant democracies in Asia.
I shared with Chung my concern about some of President Moon’s campaign rhetoric. Moon risked resurrecting the underlying flawed assumption of the Sunshine Policy: that an opening up to North Korea through political concessions and unconditional aid would lead to a gradual change in the regime similar to what occurred in China under Deng Xiaoping or in Vietnam after economic reforms in 1986. It would be challenging to generate maximum pressure against the North if South Korea and other nations believed there was a solution that did not require tough economic measures, a united diplomatic effort to isolate Pyongyang, and military preparation for a worst-case scenario. Any South Korean effort at conciliation with the North would not only dissipate pressure on Pyongyang, but also encourage Kim to continue rather than curtail provocations in the hope of extorting concessions.
By 2017, it was also clear that the assumptions that underpinned the strategy of strategic patience were false. The third-generation dictator of the Kim family, “the Great Successor” Kim Jong-un, would not transform North Korea into a responsible state. And he had proved capable of continuing the brutal repression of the North Korean people. During the transition of power between Kim Jong-il and Kim Jong-un in December 2011, it was easy to find dark humor in the nature of the Kim dictatorship. Spectators sobbed hysterically during the over-the-top funeral procession. The man who led the procession seemed comical: a twenty-seven-year-old educated in Switzerland who kept an odd haircut so he might resemble his beloved grandfather Kim Il-sung. Even Chinese Communist Party leaders, not known for their sense of humor, referred to the Great Successor uncharitably as “Kim Fatty the Third.”27 The newest dictator seemed to take his family’s penchant for fabricating stories of their own brilliance, prowess, benevolence, and infallibility to new, even more laughable levels. In a manual for middle school teachers, Kim appeared as a child prodigy who started driving at the age of three and composed numerous musical scores.28 That aside, Kim Jong-un was deadly serious and consolidated power with a ruthlessness befitting his family’s long history of inhumanity.
Just two months before my meeting with Chung, the Great Successor’s estranged half-brother, Kim Jong-nam (KJN), suffered a gruesome death in Malaysia. KJN was a gambler, playboy, and heavy drinker who enjoyed the good life in Asia’s most vibrant cities. Kim Jong-un would never trust his half-brother because his mere existence, backed by China, meant that he was a plausible replacement. KJN’s fatal mistake, however, was to criticize his half-brother. On February 13, 2017, the ordinary-looking, balding forty-five-year-old walked through the bustling Kuala Lumpur International Airport terminal on his way to check in for a flight to Macau. As he stood at the kiosk, two women approached. The first, a young Indonesian woman, came up behind him, covered his eyes, and then wiped her hands down his face and over his mouth. Then a Vietnamese woman repeated the action. Both were purportedly told they were participating in a television prank. As the women ran off, KJN began to experience the symptoms of exposure to the internationally banned VX nerve agent. His muscles started to contract uncontrollably. He was escorted to the airport’s medical clinic and died in the ambulance on the way to the hospital after approximately fifteen minutes of agony.29
The assassination underscored Kim’s determination to preempt opposition. The Institute for National Security Strategy, a South Korean think tank, estimated that in his first five years as dictator, Kim personally ordered the executions of at least 340 people, 140 of whom were senior military, government, or party officials.30 Executions in North Korea were not unprecedented, but including one’s own family was a new twist. KJN was not the first victim in Kim’s family. A few years earlier, Kim Jong-un had ordered the execution of his uncle by marriage, Jang Song-thaek. Jang, who was thought to be the real power behind the young dictator, was accused of various offenses, including treason and graft.31 He was blown apart by antiaircraft cannons in front of military cadets. The scene must have pleased Kim, as he used the same method two years later to execute the chief of the Korean People’s Army’s General Staff, General Hyon Yong-chol, whose offenses included treason compounded by falling asleep in meetings with the Great Successor.32 Death by antiaircraft cannon may not be the most economical means of execution, but like the use of a nerve agent on Kim Jong-nam in a busy airport, it sent a dramatic message to anyone who might want to challenge the young dictator’s authority.
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NO ONE was surprised by Kim’s tightening grip on power. Most knew that the death of Kim Jong-il would not change the DPRK regime’s ability to control every aspect of people’s lives. Outside information is forbidden. Every citizen is monitored to detect any sign of dissent. The Kim family also uses North Korea’s songbun political class system, which categorizes the population into three classes: loyal, wavering, and hostile. While the 40 percent of the population stuck in the undesirable or hostile category have no hope for advancement, those at the top can be threatened with plummeting to the bottom.33 The party uses local informants, who report even the slightest hint of disloyalty. The accused find themselves in North Korea’s massive penal labor colonies, in which an estimated two hundred thousand “counter-revolutionaries” are consigned to reeducation, hard labor, starvation, beatings, and torture. Women are raped, forced to have abortions, and sometimes have to watch as their newborn babies are killed in front of them. Some are forced to kill their babies or be killed themselves. The United Nations and an international tribunal of human rights judges concluded that Kim should be tried for crimes against humanity.34 North Korea’s nuclear and missile programs appeared even more dangerous in the context of the regime’s brutality. Strategic patience was no longer a viable strategy.
The fact that North Korea’s nuclear and missile programs were advancing more rapidly than most had imagined was another reason to lose our patience. On January 6, 2016, North Korea announced that it had conducted a fourth nuclear weapon test, claiming to have detonated a hydrogen bomb for the first time, although experts were dubious given the seismic evidence. A month later, in defiance of UN prohibitions, North Korea launched a long-range ballistic missile carrying
what it claimed was an earth observation satellite. Eight intermediate-range missile tests followed in the next eight months. Although seven of those tests failed, it was clear that Kim Jong-un had prioritized the program and that its scientists were learning from those failures. And just two months before the 2016 U.S. presidential election, North Korea conducted a fifth nuclear weapon test of what it claimed to be a nuclear warhead.35
It was those multiple tests in 2016 that prompted the Obama administration and the Park government in South Korea to deploy the Terminal High Altitude Area Defense (THAAD) transportable missile system to South Korea. The system intercepts incoming short- to intermediate-range ballistic missiles during their terminal phase of flight. It seemed like a logical response to a growing threat to South Korea and to the approximately 23,000 U.S. troops and 130,000 American civilians living there.36 But in the summer of 2017, THAAD threatened to generate that perfect storm between Donald Trump’s and Moon Jae-in’s political bases.
THAAD was contentious with President Trump and his political base because of its cost and the perception that it was another case of the United States defending a faraway place at American taxpayers’ expense. Skeptics of U.S. military presence overseas did not care that the system was wholly owned and operated by the U.S. Army, nor that it was a cheaper missile defense solution than the alternative of multiple Patriot air defense batteries. They were especially doubtful that countries like South Korea could not afford their own defenses.
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