A visit to the land that Perestroika forgot
A trip from Prague to Korea's DMZ brings back Cold War memories
By Marc S. Ellenbogen The Prague Post
I was not sure what to expect in Seoul. I'd not been to the city before -- the city of the 1988 Olympics, in a country that is a relatively recent convert to democracy. Korea's reputation as a little tiger and high-tech powerhouse greeted me quickly as I disembarked from Prague for a 48-hour sojourn, before heading on to Shanghai. And, just to prove that the world had changed, it was a direct flight from Prague.
But something was in the air. Something made me uneasy, and it was not that Seoul's new airport is actually in Incheon, some 70 miles (113 kilometers) from Seoul. But then maybe it was just the realization that Incheon is within easy missile range of North Korea, as is Seoul.
"Somehow, on this piece of earth, the Cold War was still very much alive. And, yet ... there is hope."
My father had been stationed in Tokyo and Seoul, just after World War II. He had been part of the War Crimes Tribunal. He was then transferred to Germany, where we three sons were raised in the shadow of the Cold War, regularly missing school because of bomb scares in the mid-1970s.
My memories of passing through Checkpoints Alpha (the border between West and East Germany), Bravo (the border between East Germany and Berlin) and the famous Checkpoint Charlie (the border between East and West Berlin) left indelible marks on my soul. Many will recall that the United States did not have diplomatic relations with the German Democratic Republic and as such one obtained travel orders to Berlin from the Russian Military Authority. There was always something fascinating, yet eerie, about the passage through to Free Berlin. One could not help but think of a John Le Carre novel, indeed one was living the novel.
Life as an American living overseas, both in my youth and my professional life, prepared me for many things. It gave me two languages. It made me aware of other cultures and ways. It gave me a sensibility and understanding of things different than me. It has made me proud of my roots and heritage. It has made me a patriot.
It has helped me to bridge peoples and places. It has made me a defender of strong militaries -- and strong democracy.
But all my experience and background did not prepare me for the 38th parallel, the DMZ.
A frontline view
The 38th parallel -- the line, that ghastly line separating North Korea from South Korea, freedom from totalitarianism, brothers from sisters, families from friends. Right from wrong. It is the last remaining border that separates a country from itself.
My driver spoke little English, but somehow we communicated during the one-hour drive from Seoul up to the border. We had traveled some 30 minutes from Seoul up the highway. Seemingly out of nowhere, a fence appeared to the left side of the car. But not just a fence: This was a serious security perimeter. This was two parallel fences, both topped with rolls of barbed wire, some 10 paces apart and 8 feet (2.4 meters) high, with guard houses at regular intervals. Miles upon miles of fences. "North," my driver said, pointing to the hills in the distance off to the left.
We drove many more miles, the "fence" our constant partner. At some point I must have dozed off, awakened by the unmistakable rumble of a military convoy next to us. The driver slowed as the convoy passed and the highway came to an end. A dreary feeling crept over me, reminding me of the same feeling from my youth as I would travel toward the East German border. I could see what appeared to be barren land in the distance, and some concrete structure, and then a kind of kitschy mini-amusement park.
But this was a somber place, Unification Park. Here one finds a memorial with stones from major war zones. Here one comes to the famous Freedom Bridge, a place where prisoner exchanges have taken place, where senior citizens volunteer and tell you about their experiences before the split. I was guided by a lovely older woman who was ever so pleased to know I lived in Prague. "Praha," she said, using the Czech name of the city.
It is from here one must take the three-hour bus ride along the 38th parallel, for this is the last area close to the border where civilians may drive alone and unaccompanied. I asked my driver to join me, but he demurred and said he would wait for me in Imjingak. There were but five of us on a bus for 45, and it was 3 p.m. My hands were sweaty.
As the bus rumbled toward the first checkpoint, we had to present our passports. South Korean soldiers, not older than in their 20s, stood stone-faced and watchful. They reminded me of our own soldiers at Checkpoint Charlie. One did give a wry smile when he saw my U.S. passport. After all, some 35,000 U.S. soldiers are stationed in Korea, most in Seoul. The air became heavier as we headed toward Dora Observatory.
Dora is located at the western front line of the DMZ. From the observation platform one can see North Korea and a propaganda village built by the North Koreans to prove they have the capital to compete with South Korea. Not far from the observatory is Dora Station, from which presidents Kim Dae-Jung and George W. Bush gave their "Dorasan Station" speeches in 2002. It is also the northernmost station of the Seoul Shinuiju Railway that will "someday" connect the two Koreas.
We would look at the infiltration tunnels built by the North Koreans, large enough to bring through 30,000 troops, along with tanks and field artillery. The South Koreans discovered one in 1975 and the other in 1978. Pictures of the Berlin Wall and the East German border flashed before me.
But this border was larger, more ominous, deadlier and disconcerting. I was overcome by emotion, by rage. Somehow, on this piece of earth, at this place, the Cold War was still very much alive. And, yet, somewhere there is hope.
Fifteen years ago, I stood at the Brandenburg Gate as the Wall opened. I never thought I would experience that day in my lifetime. Maybe, someday, I will be able to travel unhindered between the two Koreas as well.
-- The author is president and executive director of The Prague Society for International Cooperation (www.praguesociety.org), chairman of the Global Panel Foundation and a senior adviser to the Oxford University European Affairs Society. He currently is working on his next book, As Down to Earth as Arrogance Gets -- The Politics of the '90s.
ŠThe Prague Post, a weekly newspaper published in the Czech Republic