It was the finishing touch to a strange few days. As official television feed of North Korean leader Kim Jong-il's Pyongyang meetings with South Korean President Roh Moo-hyun ended in Seoul late on Thursday night, a slideshow of the pair's warmer embraces appeared to the soundtrack of John Lennon's Imagine. The 'Dear Leader' has been portrayed in international pop culture, including movie animation, and depicted as a creature from outer space on one magazine cover. But until now no one has attempted to portray the hermit, Stalinist Mr Kim in a 1970s hippie light. On other levels Lennon's call to utopian imagination is apt: considerable faith and belief will be required on both sides of the heavily fortified border if the landmark pact signed by the two men is to work. Under domestic and international pressure after a controversial presidency, Mr Roh got into his bomb-proof limousine and drove north on Tuesday amid claims the visit was a political stunt. He returned on Thursday with a declaration far more specific than that secured by the then South Korean president Kim Dae-jung in the first North-South summit seven years ago. The latest declaration offered not just the promise of detailed talks to begin a new era of peace where there had only been armed hostility for six decades, but also deepening economic co-operation. There was more than just the deal on offer. The three days of formal meetings, wine and rice liquor-fuelled banquets and cultural events - some beamed directly to Seoul in live footage - offered a rare window into the workings of Mr Kim's ruling elite which presided over one of the world's most isolated and repressive regimes. The question in the minds of many South Korean government officials and foreign diplomats was quite how clear that picture was. Mr Kim's tiny leadership clique pulled out all the stops to portray a regime in luxurious control, despite lingering international concerns over the state of his health after years of hard living. His slouching, off-kilter welcome was replaced by signs of genuine engagement as the summit wore on, prompting diplomatic speculation that his initial shaky performance was the result of one of his legendary hangovers rather than anything more serious. Fine French wines flowed at the groaning banquet tables, tens of thousands of Pyongyang residents lined the streets in their best clothes, waving plastic flowers on cue. There were operatic performances to the backing of a full orchestra and the famous North Korean mass choreography. Even by Pyongyang standards, the 60,000 dancers and placard wavers who performed in the national stadium put on what was considered a large performance. The streets had been cleaned and prominent buildings given a fresh lick of paint. 'You could hardly believe they had suffered the worst floods in 40 years just two months ago ... it was quite a performance,' said one South Korean official. 'They were in no mood to play the poor boy routine.' Mr Kim dropped clear hints that he would not accept co-operation or eventual unification on anything but his regime's own terms. Significantly, there was no sign that he would ever come to Seoul, long seen by the North's elites as occupied territory. When he met Kim Dae-jung in 2000, there was an agreement that the next summit would be in Seoul. Over the years since, as the much-vaunted 'sunshine policy' struggled to overcome North Korean reticence and its first nuclear weapons test last year, that was seen as increasingly unlikely. Mr Roh wanted his own summit, and he had to head north to achieve it. The nine-point declaration signed on Thursday raised the prospect of future summits, but gave no specific places or dates. Flushed with triumph on his return to Seoul on Thursday, Mr Roh was nevertheless frank about what he had learned about Mr Kim's perceptions of his old enemy during four hours across a table and more informal sessions over the top of a wine bottle. In terms of future meetings between the two, even as lower-ranking officials started to meet more frequently, Mr Roh revealed that nothing was fixed. 'Mr Kim said he would have to see ... he would have to wait until the time was right.' Mr Roh spoke repeatedly about discovering the extent of the 'wall of mistrust' that surrounded North-South ties, even after declaring: 'I could talk to him ... we were on the same track.' He talked of the pointlessness of couching economic and investment co-operation in terms of reform or changing the North by opening it up. Previously, it was common for South Koreans to try to promote the fledgling Kaesong industrial zone just inside the border in such terms. 'I got this feeling that North Korea was not comfortable because they felt we were using Kaesong for political motivation,' Mr Roh said. 'To me, words like reform and opening up have always been warm words ... but we should refrain from using these phrases. We must be cautious and look at it differently ... reforming and opening up should be up to North Korea itself.' Mr Roh also spoke of the need to ease Mr Kim's fears about market-driven booms and busts, and promoting stable and consistent development backed by a strong institutional framework. For all of those concerns, Mr Kim has signed off on extensive pledges to expand economic integration between his country - one of the world's poorest after decades of mismanagement - and Mr Roh's, one of the region's most dynamic. The infrastructure elements of the deal were some of the most comprehensive. Not only did the pair pledge to expand Kaesong after three years of struggle by South Korean firms, they also pledged new rail, road and air links. South Korean tourists would be able to fly from Seoul to Mount Paektu, a scenic and culturally important spot on the North's border with China. Then there was a plan to develop a joint shipbuilding complex on the North's southeast coast at Anbyon - an intriguing move, given the South's strength at the top end of the sector - as well as a peace pledge to turn disputed west coast seas into a joint fishing ground. Both South Korea's biggest firms and smaller enterprises had proved nervous about investing in the North's frontier market, despite pressure from Seoul. The declaration was, however, sparking hopes of more practical opportunities, both through improved infrastructure and smoother bureaucracy. Now the mandarins on both sides must turn the pledges into action. Local media leaks suggested Seoul already had a blueprint to spend US$20 billion on structural improvements in the North. A private report from the Hyundai Research Institute yesterday revealed the planned infrastructure improvements would cost at least US$11 billion over the next five years. Government officials were expecting the drive to intensify once wider international efforts to rid the North of its nuclear weapons bore fruit. The Korea Chamber of Commerce and Industry and the giant Hyundai Group welcomed the business potential underpinning the summit declaration, noting the need for specific action to flesh out the pledges. 'We expect North-South economic ties will strengthen, and investment will further expand as several issues are settled in detail,' the chamber said in a statement. Foreign diplomatic sources noted the absence of any move to fix the North's crippled electricity network in the declaration, raising questions about how some of the industrial plans would become a reality. The North had long been sensitive about suggestions it should link itself with South Korea's grid, fearing it would give Seoul too much clout in any future dispute. As the hard work began to bring the deal to life, Mr Roh linked that success to the continued rule of Mr Kim, who replaced his father Kim Il-sung in 1994 in communism's only dynasty. Mr Roh linked the two in one of several impromptu toasts. 'Kim Jong-Il ... must live a long and healthy life in order for peace and economic prosperity to prevail over the two Koreas,' he said. At that point even the North Korean officials present expressed their surprise to their counterparts in the South.
