Beyond the 38th Parallel: A Tale of Hope and Empathy in South Korea

"We are the same—we all love kimchi," a local says, highlighting the similarities between North and South Koreans.

A sound-and-light exhibit by South Korean artist Lee Seung-geun at Camp Greaves.

(Photo: Shelly Walia/The Quint)

“But India and Pakistan were divided along religious lines,” remarks Vassil Sotirov, a veteran journalist from Bulgaria. "London did not give up on using its last remaining trump cards to perpetuate this division with its familiar divide-and-rule approach..."

Sotirov is trying to "comfort" me by recalling the Partition of India in 1947. We are seated next to each other on a bus from Seoul to the Korean Demilitarised Zone (DMZ), the buffer zone near the 38th parallel that separates North Korea and South Korea.

As a Seoul-born travel curator and guide shares her view of the North Koreans, I can’t help but look visibly shocked.

Contrary to my expectations, she is full of empathy. The 32-year-old talks of the shared cultural heritage between the two Koreas, including the Korean language and Confucian values, rather than the differences caused by the Cold War-era geopolitics that divided the Korean peninsula.

“We are all the same Koreans. We love kimchi, they love kimchi. We’ve only been divided for 74 years,” she tells us.

I murmur to myself – “And so have we.” Unlike Korea, British India's Partition over 75 years ago was not along ideological lines, but fast forward to today, the social and political lines have deepened, and the ‘otherisation’ of Pakistanis seems ‘normalised’ and complete.

DMZ is a heavily fortified area complete with military checkpoints and barbed wires.

(Photo: Shelly Walia/The Quint)

Now more than ever, Indians seemingly rattle 'hate' against Pakistanis with their hypermasculine films and noisy TV debates silencing government critics with 'Go to Pakistan!' taunts.

Call it my ignorance, but my Indian self hadn't anticipated South Koreans' deep sympathy towards the people of North Korea during my first visit. Like the guide, many locals I speak to in and around Seoul perceive North Koreans within the context of the totalitarian dictatorship under the three generations of the Kim family—mostly as “victims” of the regime's military threats and human rights violations.

‘Kim (Jong Un)’s obsession with nukes has made North Koreans poor. They live very hard lives,” many of them say, almost sounding helpless on their behalf.

A Casualty of the Cold War

The air is crisp as we arrive at the DMZ – a heavily fortified area complete with military checkpoints and barbed wires. From the top floor of a modern building, I peer through the fixed binoculars, surveying the vast, open stretches of land in front of me. The view of North Korea is hazy, at best.

The view of North Korea from DMZ. 

(Photo: Shelly Walia/The Quint)

I pause to think about how the air on the other side is unchanged, yet the contrast is stark.

After World War II, Koreans sought unity following the Japanese rule (1910-1945). However, the Cold War between the Soviet Union and the US caused a unified Korea to split. Driven by opposing political ideologies, the Korean peninsula was divided into a Soviet-controlled north and a US-controlled south. Each established its own military government, forming two nations: South Korea in 1948, followed by North Korea later that year.

“Korea didn’t have a say in the national division,” a PhD student of history at the respectable Seoul National University tells me, adding that the Soviet Union “took advantage by communising the northern part of Korea".

In 1950, backed by the Soviet Union and China, South Korea was invaded. The US intervened to support. The brutal fighting ended in 1953 with an armistice agreement – and the establishment of the roughly 248-km-long DMZ strip.

The view of North Korea from DMZ. 

(Photo: Shelly Walia/The Quint)

The war hasn't formally ended – "and the dictatorial Kim dynasty regime in Pyongyang is stockpiling nuclear weapons as a guarantee that this will not happen," says Sotirov.

‘Do Not Cross This Line’

For about 50 years after the ceasefire agreement, though, Camp Greaves – roughly 2 km from the DMZ – stood as a US military base. Today, it has been transformed into a ‘peace and security centre’, exhibiting war memories, but also used as a filming site of Korean TV shows and music videos.

Inside one of the two powder magazines – large storage units which were essentially used for ammunitions by the US military – a sound-and-light exhibit by South Korean artist Lee Seung-geun provokes the visitors with a ‘Do Not Cross This Line’ projected in red on the floor of a dark room. The music is sombre.

A sound-and-light exhibit by South Korean artist Lee Seung-geun at Camp Greaves.

(Photo: Shelly Walia/The Quint)

The two powder magazines – or large storage units which were essentially used for ammunitions by the US military.

(Photo: Shelly Walia/The Quint)

The line then moves, and as you walk towards it, it keeps escaping you till it slowly fades away. In its place, the walls of the room are illuminated by vibrant flowers like forsythias and camellias nestled amidst lush green bushes. The vision of the artist is clear—beyond the ‘line’ which must not be (or hasn't been) crossed lies a world filled with hope and peace.

A sound-and-light exhibit by South Korean artist Lee Seung-geun at Camp Greaves.

(Photo: Shelly Walia/The Quint)

Putting the Differences Aside

In the past two decades, the South Koreans did see some hope.

In 2000, President Kim Dae-jung made history as the first Korean to be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for his efforts to put aside the dark history of division of the Korean peninsula. His ‘Sunshine Policy’ – implemented during his presidency from 1998 to 2003 and continued until 2008 under his successors – promoted dialogue and reconciliation of the two sides.

The policy led to historic moments, such as the first-ever inter-Korean summit in 2000 when the two leaders met in Pyongyang. It also led to the establishment of the Kaesong Industrial Complex that allowed South Korean companies to set up operations in North Korea.

2018 was another breakthrough year with the leaders on either side signing the Panmunjom Declaration as a step towards “denuclearisation” during the inter-Korean summit. The same year, North Korea participated in the Winter Olympics in South Korea—and the athletes from the two countries even marched together as one Korea, under one common flag.

But today, military tensions have increased—and relations remain strained.

“The current situation is at a standstill,” explains Hyuntaek Lee, a Seoul-based journalist who works at a South Korean newspaper.

“As long as North Korean leader Kim Jong Un declares inter-Korean relations as those of two hostile states, and declines to participate in dialogue, meaningful progress will remain impossible.”

Hyuntaek Lee, a Seoul-based journalist

“Our relations are probably at their worst right now,” the PhD student opines before she lists out some of the recent actions by North Korea. “They send us waste balloons,” referring to the May 2024 incident when over 200 balloons carrying trash and fertilisers from North Korea landed across several South Korean provinces, forcing the latter to issue emergency alerts.

Last year, rare footage by a South Korean research group showed uniformed officers publicly sentencing two minor boys to 12 years of hard labour for watching K-dramas. Talking about the widely shared clip, the PhD student adds, “They love our dramas, but the regime has put a ban on them.”

In October 2024, North Korea also reportedly demolished parts of its road and railway connections with South Korea, according to the Korean Central News Agency, which quoted North Korea as saying it would take further measures to “permanently fortify” the border.

“It is crucial for North Korea to adopt a more forward-looking perspective by actively engaging with the South and the international society, at least for the benefit of its population.”

Hyuntaek Lee, a Seoul-based journalist

The Million-Dollar Question

Reunification. Is it even possible? Well, Germany and Berlin managed to overcome the Great Power divide imposed on them 40 years later without a bloody upheaval, remarks Sotirov.

“When relations were good in 2018, we thought of reunification. Now we don’t know,” the guide tells us.

A day later, I meet with a 20-something graduate who works at an event management company. After a little prodding, she tells me, “It won’t be good for our economy.”

“Why?” I instantaneously ask her.

“They are very poor. And so, we see defectors escaping the life there, and we are aiding them with all our humanitarian efforts, including schools... Not so many (people defect), but they do try because South Korea is more developed. If it’s unified, how will South Korean economy cope against an impoverished North Korea?”

As she echoes many others in saying, "Of course they are the same Koreans as us", she adds that North Korea’s isolation has created a gap in their lifestyles, and even dialect.

“North Koreans speak our language, but the dialect isn’t the same. The regime doesn’t allow people to use English vocabulary,” she explains, saying Korean spoken in South Korea is far more anglicised.

What stands out to me, however, is the empathy in her voice for the North Koreans—like everybody else.