Monday, Sep. 17, 1990

The Koreas Opposite Sides of the Moon

By Howard G. Chua-Eoan

After crossing the demilitarized border in a motorcade of South Korean-made Hyundai sedans, the North Korean general surveyed the bustling, prosperous enemy capital of Seoul and observed that the last time he was there, he had been driving a tank. This time General Kim Kwang Jin, the Deputy Minister of Pyongyang's People's Armed Forces, was a member of the highest-ranking delegation to visit the South since the peninsula split into implacable halves 45 years ago.

In welcoming his counterpart, North Korean Prime Minister Yon Hyong Muk, South Korea's Kang Young Hoon was warmly fraternal. He blamed the North-South division, for the most part, on "the cold war's domination of the international political structure." Translation: the Koreas' problems are the fault of foreigners.

The fact that North and South were meeting at all was reason enough for Koreans to hope for an eventual end to the division of their country. The process is of crucial importance not only to the two governments but also to Washington, Moscow, Beijing and Tokyo, all of which wish to ensure post-cold war stability in Northeast Asia. But last week's historic summit proved only that reunification remains a remote goal. "We have a long way to go before we narrow our differences," conceded a North Korean official.

Both sides bantered and joked, but after just an hour of talks, it was clear there was no agreement as to how North and South could achieve union. Despite a flowery presummit banquet toast to "the spirit of concession," North Korea's Yon opened the talks with demands that South Korea had turned down before, including the withdrawal of U.S. troops and the freeing of South Korean dissidents imprisoned for visiting the North. South Korea's proposals for direct trade were equally distasteful to the North. Still, to maintain civility, the two sides agreed to keep talking, confirming a previous commitment to meet again in Pyongyang in October.

Of the two governments, Pyongyang has the greater need for talks. Its once staunch allies, China and the Soviet Union, are seeking stronger ties with the South. Many see the current negotiations as an attempt by North Korea's aging strongman, Kim Il Sung, to appease his longtime allies and buy time to plead for more subsidies for his ailing economy.

In the meantime, tens of thousands of Korean families remain divided by the Demilitarized Zone. Last month many wept openly after Pyongyang reneged on an offer to open the border for brief meetings between long-separated relatives. Seoul's Minister for Unification, Hong Sung Chul, is aware of the intensity of ! his countrymen's feelings. In 1985 he managed to meet his sister during a rare diplomatic visit to Pyongyang. "I promised her we would look at the full moon every month and see each other's faces in it," he recalled last week. Since then, he has lost all contact with his sister, not knowing even if she is alive. When he looks at the moon, he says, he asks her to smile, "but I see only that sad face weeping, as when we last saw each other."

With reporting by David S. Jackson/Seoul