Prospering North Shrouded in Myth

Chances of a permanent Soviet base in North Korea are seen as slim, however. In the long run, "they don't trust foreign powers," Palais said, "including the Soviets." Western analysts commonly view the tilt as a reaction to China's coziness these days with the United States and, increasingly, South Korea. With ambitious development plans before it, China is engaged in indirect trade with South Korea worth hundreds of millions of dollars annually. China clearly wants peace on the Korean peninsula and is counseling North Korea in that direction, analysts say.

There is plenty of evidence that suggests North Korea has other plans, however. U.S. and South Korean analysts say that in the past 10 years, it has roughly doubled its military strength and today is systematically moving units closer to the DMZ and building forward airstrips and bomb-proof positions.

In 1983, four members of the South Korean Cabinet were among 21 persons killed in Rangoon, Burma, when a bomb exploded during ceremonies at a mausoleum. The blast apparently was meant for Chun, who was behind schedule and not there. Burma, a neutral country that recognized both sides, later convicted two North Korean military officers and broke off diplomatic relations with Pyongyang.

Current times are especially dangerous, South Korean officials say. The south's economy and world acclaim have taken off and the north may feel it must attack now or lose its chance forever, they say. It may also want to disrupt the Olympics Games that are to be staged in Seoul in 1988 rather than let the south have the glory of playing host to the world, they suggest. U.S. officials tend to discount claims that now is more dangerous than usual, but agree that Kim Il Sung is unpredictable.

There is also ample room to argue that North Korea believes its claim that it is the one facing a threat. The south has twice its population, growing wealth and well armed and disciplined armed forces. Also behind it are U.S. troops, who, according to frequent reports from Washington, have atomic weapons. The old enemy Japan is firmly in the U.S. camp. China is counseling what amounts to accepting the status quo, and the Soviets at times show impatience with the foibles of their ally.

Peace holds, while the two sides wage war in other ways. They compete for diplomatic recognition (by both sides' count, the south is slightly ahead). In minor capitals of Africa and Latin America, diplomats are sometimes posted solely because the other side's are there. They compete through "economic warfare" and venomous propaganda.

From time to time, they meet to talk peace at Panmunjom, the village in the Demilitarized Zone where the 1953 armistice that ended the Korean War was signed. In 1984, in an unprecedented display of cooperation, the north offered and the south accepted rice and other symbolic aid to victims of an autumn flood. In 1985, they exchanged Red Cross delegations to discuss reunification of war-separated families and put some divided families together for a few hours. In 1986, they are back to not talking at all.

Much of what happens at Panmunjom is a cynical ritual where both sides try to show their people and the world that they yearn for reunification. Neither wants it strongly enough, however, to make any substantive concessions to the other.

For several years, the north has called for three-way political and military talks among itself, the south and the United States. The United States and the south refuse, saying discussions must begin between the Korean parties and make real progress before anyone else gets involved. The north's real intention, U.S. officials say, is to bypass the south and try to work a separate deal with Washington.

This summer, the north proposed a variation on this three-way formula: a meeting of defense ministers from north and south and Gen. William Livsey, commander of U.S. and South Korean forces guarding the border. It was rejected. "We believe they were trying to create a precedent for dealing directly with Livsey," said a western diplomat in Seoul.

The north has now followed with an equally unacceptable call for a conference to make Korea -- meaning the south -- a nuclear-free zone. Thirty-three years after the armistice, a meeting of minds seems as far off as ever.