This broad measure probably underestimates the South's advantage.  Seoul enjoyed double-digit growth rates in the late 1980s and even now is growing at a rate of 9.5 percent, the highest growth rate in Asia, and much faster, with a larger base, than the North (whose economy, at best, has been expanding at about 2 percent a year--though some Soviet economists maintain that the North's output actually fell by 5 percent last year).  In the North, few buses run because of gasoline shortages, lights are turned off to save energy, and rice rations have been sharply reduced.  The South has a vast technological lead--competing successfully in world auto and computer markets, for instance--and an ability to borrow internationally.  The North's industry is quite primitive in comparison and its decision to welsh on nearly $800 million in foreign debt has made it persona non grata in global capital markets; not surprisingly, Pyongyang's trade has actually been shrinking in recent years.

The Power of the Purse

The ROK's economic prowess has ended the pariah political status it suffered two decades ago and has even attracted the attention of both the USSR and China.  The former began cultivating economic ties with the South during the 1988 Olympics, which was attended by all but the most ideologically driven regimes like Albania and Ethiopia.  Seoul is now extending credits and promising aid to Moscow.  In return, the Soviet Union has formally recognized South Korea, apologized for shooting down the Korean airliner in 1983, promised high technology transfers (including nuclear energy) and offered to sign a treaty of amity and cooperation with the ROK.

When Mikhail Gorbachev and Roh Tae-woo recently met in South Korea--no Soviet leader had ever before visited either South or North Korea--Roh agreed to release $800 million in trade credits to the Soviet Union and back private investment plans by Hyundai and other firms.  Trade between the two countries ran to $900 million last year and is expected to hit $1.5 billion this year.  Projections for 1995 run as high as $10 billion.

At the same time relations between Moscow and Pyongyang have cooled.  Moscow's recognition of Seoul was a bitter pill for the North, but the end of Soviet aid to them may be more significant.  The USSR has stopped its subsidized cotton, oil, and steel shipments to them and is now demanding hard currency for its exports.  Advanced new military transfers seem unlikely.

Relations between Beijing and Seoul are also warming.  Earlier this year Beijing exchanged commercial offices with Seoul over Pyongyang's objections.  Trade between the ROK and China totals about $3.5 billion, more than seven times that between the North and China; in fact, the ROK is China's eighth largest trading partner.

Although the bitter conflict in China in mid-1989 caused Beijing to move closer politically to the North, that shift appears to have had little practical impact.  Chinese officials desire regional stability, and a conflict on the peninsula would dramatically complicate their simultaneous attempts to suppress domestic opposition and encourage foreign investment.  China's economic troubles and increased international isolation have made South Korean investment (already more than $300 million) trade, and assistance even more important.  It is probably for these reasons that China has rejected North Korean requests for more economic and military aid over the last two years and apparently refused to promise a veto of the ROK's UN membership application.  Although China is not yet ready to recognize Seoul, such a step in certainly possible in the near future.  No one expected the Soviets to abandon their Northern ally as fast as they did.

The modest warming of relations between the USSR and China has also benefitted Seoul by reducing Pyongyang's ability to play one communist power against another.  Today neither China nor the Soviet Union feels particularly threatened by the other--in fact, the USSR has cut its troop strength along their mutual border--and therefore neither is willing to pay much for an unpredictable ally whose friendship offers little of practical value.

Stability and Succession

South Korea is also gaining on the North in terms of political stability, even though Seoul's political situation remains fractious.  The struggle within the ruling Democratic Justice Party, a coalition of three formerly competing parties strung together in early 1990, is likely to become more vigorous as Seoul's 1992 presidential election approaches, and growing democracy has done little to eliminate the centrality of "strong men" to the political system.  More than 1,000 political prisoners remain in custody and the government has been particularly tough on labor organizers.  In addition, the South was rocked this spring by the largest student demonstrations since 1987.

Unlike the situation four years ago, however, when widespread resentment of President Chun Doo-hwan's authoritarian rule resulted in a "people power"-type revolution, today the middle class seems basically satisfied.  As a result, the student activists, who in fact represent only a minority of all students, received little support for their demand that President Roh step down.  Apathy turned to disgust after Prime Minister-designate Chung Won-shik was physically assaulted when he went to speak on campus.  In the subsequent local elections, the ruling party was swept to a surprisingly large victory, taking 560 of 866 seats.  All told, President Roh Tae-woo appears to have successfully edged the military away from politics and created a relatively free and stable environment for next year's national elections.

At the same time, the political climate in the North is growing more uncertain.  Kim Il-sung will turn eighty next year and questions grow about the planned succession of his son, "Dear Leader" Kim Jong-il, especially concerning his relationship with older military leaders.  Stories of modernizers battling against traditionalists ring true, though no solid proof of such a struggle exists.  Westerners who have met with younger North Koreans have found them to be curious about the rest of the world and skeptical about what they have been taught.  Pyongyang's tentative openings to noncommunist nations seem likely to increase North Korea's contacts with outsiders, and hence the pressure for change.  Moreover, while the political ground for an upheaval is not as well prepared as it was in East Germany--North Koreans have no access to South Korean television, for instance, while 80 percent of East Germans could view West German stations--the economic crisis in the North is far worse and could help force political change.

The Military Balance

Only in immediately available military strength does the North remain superior to the South.  A large-scale build-up in the late 1960s and 1970s has yielded Pyongyang a numerical lead in most categories of active duty forces.  Its army is also stationed in forward positions along the DMZ, well placed to launch another invasion should Kim Il-sung believe the moment to be propitious.

The ROK is not Kuwait, however--it is not there for the taking.  The mountainous terrain favors the defense, for it would channel Northern tanks into the South's fortifications and obstructions.  Seoul possesses a larger reserve, more modern weapons, better-trained soldiers, and a stronger economy with which to back its military.  Even without the presence of American troops the North would have no certainty of victory if it launched an attack; its doubts in this respect were undoubtedly multiplied and reinforced by the easy triumph of the West's high-tech arms over Iraq's Soviet-style army in the Gulf War.

In so far as South Korean military deficiencies exist, they are largely the result of the American defense guarantee, which has relieved Seoul of the need to further augment its forces.  Seoul spends an unimpressive 4.3 percent of its GNP on defense, down from 6.2 percent in 1981.  Inflation-adjusted military outlays actually fell slightly this year, compared with 5 percent real increases during the 1980s.  With an economy many times the size of its Northern antagonist, Seoul could obviously spend a great deal more to counteract however much Pyongyang commits to the military.

So long as the United States maintains a trigger for military involvement, however, South Korean politicians are under no pressure to expand their forces to cover areas, such as air-to-ground support, now handled by the United States.  Their attitude may be summed up by the comment of one member of the ruling party at the conference of the Council on U.S.-Korean Security in late 1989, when he responded to proposals for additional South Korean military expenditures: "We have needs in health and education that must be met."  That is true, of course, but the ROK is spending money on many projects--such as the development of a commercial satellite launching capability--which seem less important than defense.  And a nation that has promised $3 billion in aid to the essentially bankrupt USSR can not convincingly argue insufficient funds.  The South has firsthand experience with the potentially disastrous costs of military weakness.

In fact, the South Korean government has proclaimed its willingness to "maintain its own defense" by the year 2000.  But there is no reason why it should take so long.  The limited Nixon troop withdrawals at the start of the 1970s spurred a major expansion of the South Korean military: according to the U.S. Arms Control and Disarmament Agency, military spending more than quintupled between 1975 and 1985, going from $1.1 billion to $5.6 billion, and the latest estimate is $7.2 billion in 1988, well above North Korea's $5.8 billion.

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