Perhaps the climax of my time in Seoul, South Korea, occurred today as thirteen HISS students and I toured the Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) and Joint Security Area (JSA) situated between North and South Korea. “The 4km-wide DMZ scars the land from coast to coast and divides the Korean peninsula into two antagonistic countries,” the Lonely Planet Seoul City Guide states (162). The DMZ is the most heavily guarded border on the planet, protected by approximately one million soldiers. South Korean soldiers are required to serve for 21 months while North Korean soldiers are required to serve for 10 years. Specifically, our tour took us to Panmunjom, “the truce village” in the JSA. This is the only place in the JSA in which visitors are allowed.
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| The layout of the JSA |
Although many students expressed interest in attending a DMZ tour, I had an aching feeling that nothing would be scheduled unless I took control. I booked our tour through Panmunjom Tours, located in the Lotte Hotel in Seoul. It cost W77000 per person ($77). Booking a tour under my name for fifteen people was definitely risky, especially with the 50% cancellation fee the day before the tour and 100% cancellation fee the day of the tour. Luckily, everyone (except one girl) came through and arrived outside on Wednesday, July 20 at 7:30 a.m. Navigating through the city to the Lotte Hotel with fourteen people during morning rush-hour was nerve-racking to say the least, but thankfully, we arrived in time to check in with our passports, pay, and grab a quick breakfast before the tour bus departed for the DMZ at 8:50 a.m. I considered simply arriving on time a victory in itself.
As we departed for the DMZ, our tour guide, Jin, provided a brief history of Korea up to the recent tensions with North Korea, stemming from an attack in 2008 on a South Korean tourist. From 1998 until 2008, South Korea functioned under the Sunshine Policy, which emphasized South and North cooperative business development, short-term reconciliation, and long-term reunification. The goal of the policy, originally instated by Kim Dae Jung in South Korea, was to soften the hatred between the South and North and encourage interaction. This policy was continued by Moo Hyun Roh until 2008. Since the attack in 2008 and the discontinuation of the Sunshine Policy, dialogue between the North and South has been almost nonexistent and tension indefinitely exists.
As we pushed further north, the highway grew quieter and almost vacant. What a strange sight that was, a lonely highway in Korea! Whenever I looked out my dormitory window, I saw car behind car crawling down the highway in the usual city traffic. As we moved north out of Seoul, the urban transformed into the rural, unveiling stretches of lush farmland framed by enormous mountains in the distance. In preparing us for our arrival to the DMZ, Jin asked Americans to show their hands. The majority of the bus put a hand up. She asked us not to display anything “American” while in the DMZ, since North Korean soldiers, harboring hostile feelings toward the U.S. from the Korean War, become extremely upset at the sight of American flags and paraphernalia. Somehow, Trey made it through the day wearing a shirt saying “Nebraska National Guard”; throughout the tour, we joked that he would be the first to go.
As we passed tall electrical towers scattered across these farm fields, Jin explained that much of the electricity goes to power Kaesong, the industrial complex in North Korea that employs many South Koreans, since the North cannot supply it with enough power. Jin explained that many men in North Korea cannot find work, since the North cannot provide electricity for the factories. This leads to social issues like high alcoholism rates. North Korea used to allow tourists into Kaesong, North Korea’s third largest city, but such tours have been suspended since 2008.
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| Barbwire guarding the riverside |
The bus grew silent as we continued along Freedom Highway into the DMZ. After arriving at the first South Korean checkpoint and allowing the South Korean soldier to inspect our passports, our bus passed down a narrow dirt road surrounded by unruly green growth on both sides. Jin explained that on either side of the bus lie thousands of landmines and barbwire obstacles, untouched relics of the Korean War. Although I could not see any of these detriments, I strangely felt as if I was trespassing, as if I, an American college student, should not be mingling in such a tense and complicated conflict.
We passed the entrance to Freedom Village, a small town in the South Korean DMZ area with a 100-meter tall flagpole. The residents of this village are tax-exempt and farm the land in the DMZ. They are required to stay there a minimum of 245 nights. Women can marry into the village, but men cannot. Conversely, in the North Korean DMZ territory stands Propaganda Village (a name we chuckled at), boasting a flagpole that stands an enormous 160-meters tall (built in retaliation to Freedom Village’s flagpole). Jin noted that the flag atop Propaganda Village’s flagpole must be changed every three months because of the high wind impact it faces so high in the sky. It is interesting to me (but not surprising) that the North Korean government spends money replacing this flag tri-monthly but has not tried to feed a higher percentage of its people. Similarly, in watching documentaries about North Korea, I have learned that the government has pumped an extravagant amount of money into the capital city, Pyongyang – a utopian display of enormous skyscrapers and monuments that are always vacant. The documentary explains that this capital city is a form of propaganda in itself – a utopian symbol showing the people that the country is doing well. Only select North Koreans are invited to live in the capital city, and the elderly and handicapped are strongly encouraged to stay out of sight.
After a quick slide and photo briefing in the JSA Visitor Center, which explained the layout of the JSA and some historical information, we walked through the back doors and out onto a cement terrace. We quietly overlooked several long, blue UN buildings straddling the border between North and South Korea. Beyond the UN buildings and dozens of soldiers stood Panmungak, the administrative headquarters for the North Korean security force in the JSA.
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| A blue UN negotiations building guarded by a South Korean soldier. Panmngak, the North Korean administrative headquarters is in the background. |
What a strange feeling it was to look at a building standing on North Korean soil! We paused a moment, taking in the reality of the moment. Everywhere, South Korean soldiers were poised in a sort-of “ready position,” with their fists clenched, feet apart, and knees slightly bent. We watched North Korean soldiers beyond the UN buildings march in sync on the other side of the border, a mere 200 feet away. Jin led us into one of the blue UN negotiations buildings, where we could snap pictures with the South Korean soldiers, though we could not touch them in any way. In passing a window to stand on the North Korean side of the building, I glanced outside only to lock eyes with a North Korean soldier! How terrifying, to feel his eyes following me as I passed each window to the back of the room. Something tells me that it must have been for theatrics, to make me feel like I got my “won’s worth,” but then I realize that this is not, in any way, any type of show or performance. It is a regular day for these soldiers, and they are doing their job to protect their side. That soldier didn’t care if I felt satisfied with my tour experience. Part of me wondered if he could tell I was American, which was a frightening thought, since North Koreans (in general) are taught to hate Americans.
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| Posing with a South Korean soldier |
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| Posing with a North Korean soldier |
While in the UN negotiations building, Jin explained that on the days that South Korea and North Korea both hold tours, it is a race to get to the UN building. She noted that sometimes, when she is in there with the South Korean tours, the North Korean guides and soldiers pound impatiently on the North Korean entrance and look through the windows. Luckily, we got to the building first and passed through without incident.
After exiting the UN negotiations building, we once again stood on the cement terrace facing the North Korean building. As we viewed the North Korean side, a North Korean tour emerged from a balcony on the building. Visitors streamed onto the balcony, snapping dozens of pictures of us. In the overwhelming silence of the area, we could hear the North Korean tourists talking. This was likely the most climactic moment of the trip, staring back at people who likely know nothing of the outside world as they snap pictures of us. North Koreans are exposed to one radio station and one television station, both programmed by the North Korean government. On a documentary, I heard that the radio always plays in every North Korean home; it is possible to turn the radio down, but it is impossible to turn it off. Essentially, North Korean citizens listen to propaganda 24-hours a day and know nothing beyond North Korean borders. For example, in the same documentary, I learned that some North Koreans were not aware that someone had walked on the moon. They also believed Kim Ill Sung, the founder of North Korea who died in 1994, to be a sort-of god, wielding powers beyond those of the normal human being. There we stood, not daring to touch our cameras, as we were photographed and studied by people who have likely never seen Americans before. Jin explained that North Korean tours often violated their mutual agreement to prohibit photography at this stage in the tour. Her explanation on the dress code requirements now made sense: “The North Koreans sometimes snap pictures of the South Korean tourists wearing tank tops and flip flops and use them as propaganda, saying that democratic nations cannot afford to be clothed.”
We then took the bus around the DMZ, viewing various checkpoints and other significant locations. The untouched, natural beauty of the DMZ is unlike anything I’ve ever seen before; nature goes unscathed, preserved not by environmental effort, but by a static fear of the other side.
We stopped at the site of the 1976 axe murders, where two American UNC officials trimming a poplar tree that blocked the view between two checkpoints were murdered by North Korean soldiers. The monument stands in place of the tree, which was cut down completely shortly after the murders.
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| Axe Murders Memorial surrounded by untamed nature. |
We also paused at the Bridge of No Return, a wooden overpass constructed after the armistice was signed in 1953. The bridge allowed Korean POWs to cross back into their respective countries. Oral tradition claims that many North Korean POWs chose not to return to North Korea. However, once crossing the bridge, one could never return to the other side. On each end of the bridge stand checkpoints; the South Korean checkpoint has been abandoned for years, while the North Korean checkpoint is still manned 24-hours a day. Once again, I felt an odd sense of intrusion as I looked at the rickety bridge, as if I could see the ghosts of the soldiers crossing the bridge from one shattered side to the other. The rusty, dilapidated presence of such Korean War remnants in addition to the eerie silence of the DMZ evokes emotion that is hard to define for me as an American. Having never experienced war or worldly conflict, it was hard to understand the shocking sadness I felt at these locations. Stagnant is the best word I can use to describe the way these locations feel, as if time has stood still for decades, weathering the physical structures while preserving the 1950s Korean War ideologies.
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| The Bridge of No Return |
After we finished our Panmunjom tour, we took the bus to Imjigak, a peace park situated just south of the DMZ. The park includes various memorials and monuments, such as the Peace Bell, which symbolizes efforts toward reunification in the 21st century. Other meaningful places include the Freedom Bridge, which eerily ends in a barbwire fence before it reaches another side. The fence is adorned in Korean flags and colorful ribbons with not only hopefully wishes for a unified future, but also mournful reflections for lost loved ones or families separated by the division.
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| The Peace Bell |
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| An interesting juxtaposition of ribbons bearing messages of hope and peace beneath barbwire |
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| Freedom Bridge |
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| The abrupt end of Freedom Bridge, covered in hope-bearing ribbons and Korean flags |
Inside Imjigak stands a rusty, dilapidated train full of bullet holes. The train, a Korean War remnant, pays tribute to the sacrifices made by both sides; it once ran on the tracks connecting South and North Korea visible at Imjigak, which are still disconnected. The bridge carrying the tracks jarringly ends at the line, which is interestingly symbolic of South Korea’s untiring efforts toward reunification in the past decades.
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| The train from the Korean War |
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| The railroad once connecting North and South Korea |
From Imjigak we went to a little restaurant where we enjoyed bulgolgi and bibimbap. On the trip home, I learned that Jin is from Columbus, Ohio and her daughter is a pharmacy student at the University of Toledo! Small world, huh?
