The DMZ: a Small Hope - By Siyun Sung

     Looking at the graceful flaps of a white-naped crane family flailing in the blue sky, I hear little hawfinches twittering inside the perilla bush besides me. Taking a picture of a little brown inernis freely running around the fresh green grass, I see my friends observing the awe-aspiring Korean buzzard sitting on the thick branch of gigantic mulberry. After the bloody dog-eat-dog Korean War, the Korea peninsula broke into two pieces: the South and the North Korea. Despite the peace treaty that had stopped the war, news about countless conflicts between the two countries appear in numerous media sources world-wide. Ironically, however, in the middle of these countries whose nerves are on edge, a green paradise thrives. The DMZ, Demilitarized Zone, is a buffer zone between North and South Korea, extending 250 km, about 4km wide. It is a place of both life and death; numerous endangered species inhabit it and visit the place in winter and summer, while on the other side, soldiers of each country patrol the barbed-wire fence with long threatening rifles. Visiting DMZ once a month to explore the ecosystem inside the place and observing incongruous scenes of such beautiful nature, I myself came to believe that preserving the DMZ is significantly necessary: not only for the sake of preserving the nature, but also for alerting people about the brutality of the war that should not be repeated.

     In the spring of 2012, my mom asked me if I would like to visit Paju DMZ and look around the wilderness so that I could relieve stress accrued from my busy life. I thought that living in our school which sits on the midst of the Dukgo Mountain was enough for me to feel nature, yet mom’s mellifluous explanation about the unique fauna and flora that I can observe in the DMZ attracted me. Different from what I have expected, however, when I arrived at the place, I realized that I had to listen to the lecture of an instructor who had been researching the ecosystem of the DMZ for over fifteen years, running the DMZ ecosystem research center. The continuous lecture of the instructor while walking under the hot sun annoyed me – along with detailed information about tiny bugs and grasses that were not listenable when those very bugs kept landing on my face as the grass scratched my legs. The only things that I kept my eyes on were red-colored installations such as warning signs of mines and big identification signs of location for combat plane, those that I have only seen through television or from newspaper. Such monthly “exploration of the unique nature” lessened my initial expectation and enthusiasm of playing with flowers; getting up early in the morning of every fourth Sunday and spending two hours in a small car to go to Paju was a pain in the neck. Even so, I did not stop the burdensome journey in a thought that I would learn at least “something” – something like a fact that the color of Manchurian violet is actually violet - from there. 

     In January of 2013, with a blank mind and head, still having found no meaning from the activity, I arrived at the research center with my friends. As usual, we rode a small van and headed the DMZ; soldiers checked our identities and we entered the place. Our goal of the day was to observe white-naped cranes which migrate to Korea every winter. Quietly driving the car - white-naped cranes are very sensitive animals that fly away even when people are a few hundred meters far from them - the instructor found a family of white-naped cranes, consisted of a mom, a dad, and a child. The instructor gave me a high-quality telescope, which I mastered in matching focus and directing the object – this ability was another “something” that I had learned through eight months of exploration. Thoughtlessly putting my left eyes on the small hole, I could not move my eyes off from the telescope. Purely white birds with perfect body lines flowing from head to tail, peacefully picking up grains with yellow beaks, were incredibly pleasing. Standing in the same position in front of the telescope, I heard the instructor explaining the behavior of the crane family. He said that white-naped cranes move in a family unit, composed of three to four members, and look for food. The interesting characteristic was the way that they protect each other when eating– when one puts his or her head down to eat, the other puts its head up to check possible threats. Small and soundless family was living through their life, together. Although the idea was nothing special, the idea instantly touched my mind. Finishing the observation, we moved along to see other parts of the winter DMZ. Colorless trees without leaves and barren fields again bored me and I dozed off in the car. Nevertheless, a short but repeated sound interrupted my sweet dream. I asked the instructor the origin of the sound. He said that the soldiers of the troop that stay inside the DMZ were practicing shooting. At the moment, the beautiful cranes that I saw a few minutes ago appeared in my head; I imagined them startled by the unpleasant sound, losing their tranquility, and flying away in hurry. I thought to myself: this place should be kept peaceful and quiet for that crane family. 

     The DMZ carries great ecological and geological values. Free of severe human activities interrupting the environment, it is a perfect habitat for various species of animals and plants. The DMZ crosses mountainous areas and a plain; in between, there are several valleys and basins with numbers of rivers. Such assorted geological features, prosperous ecosystem of mountains, inland wetlands, fresh water, and ocean water of the DMZ prove the ineffable ecological value of it. Since it is a complex of unique ecological conditions, globally protected species, endangered species, and other protected wild animals and plants are easily observed. Further, internationally spotlighted migratory birds such as the white-naped cranes use DMZ as a fly-way of their travel between countries in the North East and South East Asia. The DMZ is also filled with countless species of plants. It is the place where people can learn the process of forest establishment, which can be hardly seen in any other places. Experts say that studying the ecology of the DMZ and further geological and geographical characteristics of it will allow people to fill the missing and unknown parts in understanding of ecosystem-establishing process. They say that the investigation should be globally supported and protection of the DMZ should be internationally subsidized. Recognizing its ecological values, many people, not only scholars but also profit-finders, are keeping eyes on it. Having no firm laws and regulations for looking after the DMZ, the DMZ is in danger of the wrong-minded people using the place for their own profits by farming or even using some part of the land for building as amusement park. It needs a strong shield to protect it and carry on its values.

Having been the major battlefield of the Korean War, the DMZ now serves as a symbol of the deadly five-year war, and, at the same time, as a symbol of peace and reconciliation. After the war, over ten million people were separated; they do not know whether their family is dead or alive, or whether they live in the North Korea or the South Korea. The government of two countries promoted several “family meeting” events at Geumgang Mountain, but such events did not solve the fundamental problems. Furthermore, despite numerous discussions made between the two countries, the relationship between the North and the South is not showing much improvement. Rather, the relationship is worsening, due to several provocations of North Korea, including an attack on South Korea’s marine ship and nuclear weapon testing. The countless inerasable conflicts and wounds left on both countries since the Korean War, the DMZ is the only place in Korean peninsula that remains tranquil. The peace that it sustains reminds people that the similar war should not happen again for whatever reason. It tells that the blood spilled over the land of DMZ, on which now fresh and vigorous lives grow, should not be flowing with streams of blood again, red dominating the green. People might say that a symbol is just a symbol: it does not affect people greatly and does not change their minds. However, if the green place of the DMZ does not exist with the entire 250 km being barren, people will not feel the least bit of guilt over destroying a beautiful place of dynamic life with another blood-spattered egotistical war.

     Today, reconciliation with the North Korea seems almost impossible. Not only the South Korea, but also many other developed countries are watching over the North with a severely sensitive antenna, worrying over more offensive behaviors; a few years ago, North Korea’s provocations were considered to be “disturbing,” but these days, they are considered to be “threatening.” Some experts say that conflicts with North Korea will cause The Third World War, a nuclear war. I boldly say that the DMZ is the ultimate power that can calm the frustration. When people are tired of the world they are living in, they instinctually seek nature, which is their genuine home. They feel the true comfort just by observing it. Similarly, at the end of the noisy clash which seems insoluble, people will turn their eyes to the place of peace and pureness. I know that the DMZ is not the place of practical solution that can terminate this complication, but I see it as a place of hope for emotional reconciliation. Thus, until the time people turn their eyes to nature, searching for consolation, realizing the meaninglessness of the fight, the DMZ should be preserved with great care so that it can embrace the entire people with immense warmth, like it embraces the small, soundless, but serene white-naped crane family.