Korean conflict | Hope for rapprochement

James Byun is very pleased with the election results. "Now the situation can finally move away from one of hostility between the two Koreas!" the elderly gentleman explains his relief. Byun is not a politician, but a theologian and member of the Korean Association for Religious Studies in South Korea. The fact that he thinks a lot about politics has to do with his religious background. As a Catholic in South Korea, Byun sees himself as particularly responsible for the politically hostile North Korea. This is even formal: The Archdiocese of Seoul, located in the liberal democracy of South Korea, also administers Catholics in the one-party state of North Korea.

This extraordinary situation dates back to a decision made half a century ago: In 1975, the Holy See in the Vatican granted the Archdiocese of Seoul "pastoral authority over Pyongyang." "Due to the political division of the Korean peninsula, it would be incorrect to speak of jurisdiction," the theologian emphasizes. However, Seoul is nevertheless responsible for the class enemy in the North and bears a pastoral responsibility. "Until a unified ecclesiastical hierarchy is established in North Korea."

So, for an indefinite period of time. What sounds like technical jargon for church administration can be summarized as follows: Outside of the isolated dictatorship of North Korea – which has been at war with the South since the Korean War (1950–53) – it is unknown how Christians in the country are doing. And because the Vatican has not maintained healthy relations with Pyongyang for decades, Seoul is supposed to make some effort to maintain contact with Catholics in the North. In recent years, however, this has seemed impossible.

But recent political developments in Seoul have given Catholics like James Byun hope again: On June 3, South Korea elected a new president who promises a fundamentally different course. The authoritarian, right-wing Yoon Suk-yeol – who declared martial law in December and was subsequently removed from office – is now succeeded by Lee Jae-myung. He has resolved to seek dialogue. Because of Yoon, relations are "near death," the 61-year-old declared shortly after his election victory. Now they are to be revived. This is good news for Catholics. Experience shows that rapprochement between North and South is most successful under democratic governments.

To understand the potential significance of this change of government, it's worth taking a look back: The last church exchange with the North dates back to before 2022, when the right-wing hardliner Yoon was elected president of the South. Yoon acted with extreme pomp and announced his intention to "teach North Korean dictator Kim Jong-un some manners." He repeatedly threatened war, which led to the halting of the tentative beginnings that had previously taken place.

Representatives of South and North Korean Catholic organizations had a lively exchange in February 2019 and even considered a visit to North Korea by then-Pope Francis. "This demonstrated North Korea's optimism," recalls James Byun. This optimism was not unfounded at the time: It was fueled by the prospect of a historic summit between Kim Jong-un and then-US President Donald Trump. A week later, these two leaders of two equally hostile states – the US fought on the side of the South in the Korean War and remains its most important security partner to this day – were scheduled to meet in Hanoi for negotiations. They wanted to discuss an end to the UN sanctions against North Korea and a possible nuclear disarmament of the North.

But the talks collapsed. And when North Korea's Kim Jong-un and US President Trump turned their backs on each other, North-South relations among Catholics also took a turn for the worse. "This also broke off the last remaining religious contacts," says Byun, who was involved in the talks at the time. People from the North and South were increasingly unable to interact with each other.

This development raises fundamental questions: Why should the church in the South exert influence on events in North Korea? And why are there Christian institutions at all in North Korea—an officially communist state with a seemingly religious state philosophy centered around the Kim family? The answer goes back far into history, to a time before the Korean division.

From the late 18th century onward, the faith spread in the predominantly Buddhist country. While Protestants also engaged in missionary work, German Benedictines were primarily responsible for Catholicism. They established Christianity as one of the leading religions in the north as well. But this religious landscape was about to change dramatically: After World War II, when Korea gained independence from the colonial power Japan, the peninsula was divided shortly thereafter – with devastating consequences for the Christian communities.

Since then, the North has been authoritarian, the South capitalist. Then, in 1950, the North attacked. The three-year war resulted in high casualties because it became the first proxy conflict of the Cold War. China and the Soviet Union supported the North against US-led UN troops on the South's side.

In this ideological conflict, Catholics in the North quickly found themselves caught between the fronts: They were suspected of acting as agents of the South. Many Christians were abducted by supporters of the regime. In the South, the disappeared are still considered martyrs. And they are one reason why the Catholic Church has continued to seek dialogue with the North. Furthermore, the South also wants to baptize believers in the North. However, clergy from the South would need entry permits from both Seoul and Pyongyang to do so.

Obtaining this has become difficult these days. But at least, James Byun emphasizes, there is formally religious freedom in North Korea, as well as a Catholic Church. This paradoxical situation arose at a historic moment of geopolitical uncertainty: "Foreseeing the collapse of the Eastern Bloc in the late 1980s, the North Korean government turned to the international community and also to the Vatican," the theologian explains. It sought contacts outside of its previous allies. "In June 1987, a Vatican delegation was invited to the North."

The following year, the Vatican also invited Catholics from North Korea to Rome for Easter. This exchange led to the founding of an organization to represent Catholicism in North Korea. In October 1988, the Changchung Church in Pyongyang was built. But what optimists viewed as a step toward freedom of religion and expression was perceived by many as mere lip service.

Among the skeptics is Kim Geum-hyok, a consultant to the Conservative Party and YouTuber: "The North Korean government currently maintains two or three churches in Pyongyang. But it only does this so it can claim that it doesn't persecute Christians." Nobody in the North believes her claim. "When Western tourists come to the country, they show them the churches. But it's just a show!"

James Byun also doesn't believe there are many Christians left in North Korea. Several years ago, the number was estimated at 3,000. The current situation is completely unclear. If there are services, they are probably conducted by lay priests. "I suspect most people in Pyongyang don't even know that there's a Catholic church in the city." Officials, of course, know. But for the population in the North, the church buildings could simply be some strange structure.

"After the failed summit between Kim Jong-un and Donald Trump, as well as the coronavirus pandemic, all channels to the North have effectively been cut off," Byun repeats. "We don't even know at the moment whether the Changchung Church in Pyongyang is still operating." But what if, with Democrat Lee Jae-myung, South Korea no longer brings threats of war, but rather an outstretched hand? Could the Catholic Church then become a key player?

Moon Chung-in, professor emeritus of politics at Yonsei University in Seoul and former advisor to the Democratic Party, doesn't believe this: "In 2018, when there were still exchanges, North Korea viewed its relationship with South Korea as a special one, with the ultimate goal of reunification." But North Korea has now officially abandoned this idea with a constitutional amendment. "Personally, I would like to see more exchanges on levels such as religion or sports. But given the rhetoric of recent years, I no longer believe that."

The Catholic Church, however, is undeterred by such skepticism. James Byun is already optimistic about 2027 – and sees a concrete opportunity there. If the new President Lee Jae-myung succeeds in easing the hostile atmosphere between North and South by then, there would be a major opportunity for exchange from a Catholic perspective: "In two years, the Vatican will hold World Youth Day in Seoul. Archbishop Peter Soon-Taick Chung has already expressed his desire to invite young people from North Korea."

Of course, this depends on relations between North and South. But Korean history shows that conditions on the peninsula can change quickly—in one direction or the other. In this respect, a renewed détente seems quite possible.