Oped

loudspeakers and the Korean crisis

Gwynne Dyer

North Korea's unimpressive dictator Kim Jong-un may need a crisis to strengthen his hold on power, but he certainly does not need a war that he will surely lose

Having just been on holiday with two very strong-willed little boys aged eight and nine, this writer feels particularly well qualified to explain why the two Koreas have gone to the brink of war over some loudspeakers, but probably won't go over the edge. George and James could explain the process even better themselves, but child labour laws prevent them from writing for newspapers, so this writer will do it for them.

It began with a land mine explosion in the demilitarised zone between the two countries that severely wounded two South Korean Army sergeants. The mine was of an old Soviet design, so Seoul said it must have been put there by North Korea and demanded an apology from Pyongyang.

So, to punish North Korea for its alleged crime, South Korea re-activated the loudspeakers that used to broadcast anti-North Korean propaganda across the DMZ until they were turned off 11 years ago. Nobody can hear the propaganda except North Korean soldiers on the other side of the DMZ, so it's hard to see what actual harm it's doing, but North Korea rose to the bait with alacrity.

North Korean troops fired a rocket and several artillery shells at the loudspeakers, though none seem to have hit them. South Korea responded with a barrage of dozens of 155mm artillery rounds, which led North Korean leader Kim Jong-un (the pudgy one with the very bad haircut) to declare a “semi-state of war” and set a 48-hour deadline for the loudspeakers to be turned off.

Otherwise, Mr Kim said, his troops would carry out “indiscriminate strikes” against the South. This would have been a grave threat if he actually meant it, since most of Seoul, a city of 25 million people, is within artillery range of the DMZ, but the Saturday deadline passed without further shooting.

Instead, urgent talks began on Saturday in the ‘truce’ village of Panmunjom, in the middle of the DMZ, between Mr Hwang Pyong-so, the political director of the North Korean Armed Forces, and Mr Kim Kwan-jin, the National Security Advisor to the South Korean President. In the meantime, South Korean loudspeakers were still blaring out, and North Korean artillery, landing craft and submarines were moving towards the frontiers.

Finally, on Tuesday, North and South Korea reached an agreement to resolve the showdown with Pyongyang promising to express regret for recent provocations and Seoul agreeing to turn off the loudspeakers. Still, one must ask: Were Mr Kim and his North Korean counterpart really flirting with the idea of a war that would certainly kill hundreds of thousands of people, and might even turn nuclear, over some loudspeakersIJ

That brings us back to the two little boys. Siblings who are close in age, even if they are friends, are also rivals, and they generally squabble a lot. They often get locked into quarrels over matters of little or no importance and seem unable to walk away from them.

What keeps these struggles from ending in real violence, and usually restores order in the end, is adult intervention. Even if they resent it, the children also secretly welcome it, because it frees them from the trap of their own emotions.

North Korea's young and distinctly unimpressive dictator may need a crisis to strengthen his hold on power, but he certainly does not need a war that he will surely lose: South Korea has twice as many people and an economy 10 times as big as North Korea. And while South Korea's President Park Geun-hye needs to look tough, she knows that her own people definitely don't want a war.