If peace is coming, nobody told North Korean defectors
Not everyone shares the optimism that followed the Moon-Kim summit. Fearing a crackdown on their activism, defectors send their brethren packages of rice and USBs in the hope truth can set them free
With all their strength and energy, the North Korean defectors hurl the bottles into the ocean.
Filled with rice and packaged alongside waterproofed bibles and USB flash drives, the bottles land one after the other splashing into the water and forming a trail of plastic as the current carries them towards their senders’ isolated homeland.
It is not long before the mound of bottles on the shore, piled high in anticipation of the turning of the tide, has disappeared. Set adrift from this small island straddling the border with the North, the subversive packages do not have far to travel.
“We lived in North Korea so we understand their mentality and mindset,” says Park Jeong-ho, one of the organisers of the event, which is aimed at penetrating the North’s information blockade.
“We know exactly what kind of content will break down their propaganda and brainwashing so that kind of information has been included on the USBs. The bottle of rice is not that big, so it might feed them for a day. But if they get information from a USB, it can change their lives.”
At the summit, the first between the leaders of the two Koreas in more than a decade, Moon and Kim signed an agreement pledging to work together to formally end the Korean war and denuclearise the peninsula. Despite previous periods of rapprochement ending in belligerence and sporadic violence by the North, a rare degree of optimism has taken hold in the South this time around.
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Moon’s liberal government has declared the present moment a “new start for peace”. Many South Koreans reported being impressed by Kim’s humble demeanour during the summit, which was packed with symbolism emphasising the divided countries’ common heritage – even the soil used to plant a pine tree at the truce village Panmunjom was taken from the two most famous mountains on either side of the border.
In the last week, the Unification Flag, which depicts a blue Korean peninsula against a white background, has sprung up in public spaces across the country ranging from district offices to city buses. An opinion poll carried out by Realmeter after the summit found that nearly 65 per cent of South Koreans trusted North Korea to relinquish its nuclear weapons and pursue peace, compared to just 15 per cent before. More remarkable still, 78 per cent of South Koreans told another pollster that they trusted the North Korean leader, up from 10 per cent six weeks earlier.
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Park and his fellow activists share no such optimism about the current thaw in inter-Korean relations and remain unwaveringly cynical about the regime’s intentions.
Despite the South’s outreach to the North having strong public support here, many defector activists see it as nothing short of a betrayal. While addressing denuclearisation and family reunions, the summit, the third following meetings in 2000 and 2007, did not refer to the human rights situation inside the reclusive dictatorship. A 2014 UN Commission of Inquiry detailed a raft of abuses inside North Korea, including murder, torture, enslavement, rape and forced abortions, that it said were without “parallel in the contemporary world”.
Jung, who survived torture at Yodok political prison camp, sees no improvement in human rights in his homeland under Kim, the Swiss-educated, third-generation leader who came to power in 2011.
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“It’s getting worse,” says Jung, who runs defector-led activist group No Chain for North Korea. While the meeting between Moon and Kim moved many South Koreans to tears, Jung refused to watch it. “I’m really angry,” said Jung of the warming attitudes among South Koreans toward the North. “Everyone is talking about peace, but it’s not true peace. It’s a delusion.”
A number of recent developments hint that fears of a crackdown on anti-regime activism may be justified. Last month, Thae Yong-ho, the most high-profile defector in the South, was blocked by South Korean intelligence agents from answering journalists’ questions after speaking at a private conference on North Korean human rights. Video footage of the incident, which appeared to show Thae willing to engage with the media, subsequently disappeared from a local news channel’s website without explanation. Thae, who was Pyongyang’s ambassador to Britain before defecting in 2016, had previously given interviews in which he espoused hardline views on the North that contrasted with Moon’s pro-engagement agenda.
However Seoul responds, it’s clear that activists like Jung won’t be dissuaded from their mission. For the North Korean escapees gathered on this rocky outcrop in the Yellow Sea, it is their brethren back home, not the government in their adopted home, that is their concern.
“I always miss my hometown,” says Jung, his eyes pointed toward the grey sky. “I want to go back, but the reality is I can’t.” ■