Hard Choices

by Hillary Rodham Clinton

  In my public remarks in Seoul I extended an invitation to the North Koreans. If they would completely and verifiably eliminate their nuclear weapons program, the Obama Administration would be willing to normalize relations, replace the peninsula’s long-standing armistice agreement with a permanent peace treaty, and assist in meeting the energy and other economic and humanitarian needs of the North Korean people. If not, the regime’s isolation would continue. It was an opening gambit in a drama I was sure would continue for our entire term, as it had for decades before, and not one I thought likely to succeed. But, as with Iran, another regime with nuclear ambitions, we started off with the offer of engagement hoping it would succeed and knowing it would be easier to get other nations to pressure North Korea if and when the offer was rejected. It was particularly important for China, a longtime patron and protector of the regime in Pyongyang, to be part of a united international front.

  It didn’t take long to get an answer.

  The next month, March 2009, a crew of American television journalists were reporting from the border between China and North Korea for Current TV, the network cofounded by former Vice President Al Gore and later sold to Al Jazeera. The journalists were there to document the stories of North Korean women who were trafficked across the border and forced into the sex trade and other forms of modern slavery. At dawn on March 17, a local guide led the Americans along the Tumen River that separates the two countries, still frozen in the early spring. They followed him out onto the ice and, briefly, as far as the North Korean side of the river. According to the journalists, they then returned to Chinese soil. Suddenly North Korean border guards appeared with guns drawn. The Americans ran, and the producer escaped along with the guide. But the two women reporters, Euna Lee and Laura Ling, were not so lucky. They were arrested and dragged back across the river to North Korea, where they were sentenced to twelve years of hard labor.

  Two months later North Korea performed an underground nuclear test and announced that it no longer considered itself bound by the terms of the 1953 armistice. Just as President Obama had promised in his inaugural address, we had offered an open hand, but North Korea was responding with a closed fist.

  Our first step was to see if action was possible at the United Nations. Working closely with Ambassador Susan Rice in New York, I spent hours on the phone with leaders in Beijing, Moscow, Tokyo, and other capitals drumming up support for a strong resolution imposing sanctions on the regime in Pyongyang. Everyone agreed that the nuclear test was unacceptable, but what to do about it was another story.

  “I know this is difficult for your government,” I told Chinese Foreign Minister Yang Jiechi in one call, “[but] if we act together, we have a chance to change North Korea’s calculation about the cost to them of continuing with their nuclear and missile programs.” Yang said China shared our concerns about a regional arms race and agreed that “an appropriate and measured” response was needed. I hoped that wasn’t code for “toothless.”

  By mid-June, our efforts paid off. All the members of the UN Security Council agreed to impose additional sanctions. We had to make some concessions to get Chinese and Russian backing, but this was still the toughest measure ever imposed on North Korea, and I was pleased we were finally able to muster a unified international response.

  But how to help the imprisoned journalists? We heard that Kim Jong Il would let the women go only if he received a personal visit and request from a high-ranking U.S. delegation. I discussed this with President Obama and other members of the national security team. What if Al Gore himself went? Or maybe former President Jimmy Carter, known for his humanitarian work around the globe? Maybe Madeleine Albright, who had unique experience in North Korea from her diplomacy in the 1990s? But the North Koreans already had a particular visitor in mind: my husband, Bill. It was a surprising request. On the one hand, the North Korean government was busy hurling absurd invectives at me over the nuclear issue, including calling me “a funny lady.” (North Korea’s propaganda operation is famous for its over-the-top and often nonsensical rhetorical attacks. They once called Vice President Biden an “impudent burglar.” There’s even a “random insult generator” on the internet that churns out parodies of their broadsides.) On the other hand, Kim apparently had had a soft spot for my husband ever since Bill sent a condolence letter after the death of his father Kim Il-sung in 1994. And of course he also wanted the global attention that would come from a rescue mission led by a former President.

  I talked with Bill about the idea. He was willing to go if it would secure the freedom of the two reporters. Al Gore and the families of the women also encouraged Bill to take the mission. But more than a few people in the White House argued against the trip. Some may have harbored negative feelings toward Bill from the 2008 primary campaign, but most were simply reluctant to reward Kim’s bad behavior with such a high-profile trip and potentially create concerns for our allies. They had a good point: we had to balance doing what was necessary to rescue the two innocent American civilians with avoiding potential geopolitical fallout.

  I thought it was worth trying. The North Koreans had already gotten all the mileage they could from the incident, but they needed some reason to justify letting the women go home. Also, if we didn’t do something to try to resolve the matter, our efforts on everything else with North Korea would be suspended because of their imprisonment. When I raised the idea directly with President Obama over lunch in late July, he agreed with me that it was the best chance we had.

  Although it was considered a “private mission,” Bill and the small team he would take along were well briefed before departing. A humorous but important part of the preparation involved coaching them not to be smiling (or frowning) when the inevitable official photos with Kim were taken.

  In early August, Bill set out on his mission. After twenty hours on the ground in North Korea and a face-to-face meeting with Kim, he succeeded in winning the journalists’ immediate release. They flew home with Bill to a dramatic arrival in California, greeted by family, friends, and loads of television cameras. The official images released by the regime were appropriately stilted; no smiling by any of the Americans. Afterward Bill joked that he felt like he was auditioning for a James Bond movie. But he believed that his success was proof that the insular regime would respond positively, at least on certain points, if we could find the right mix of incentives.

  Unfortunately there was more trouble ahead. Late one evening in March 2010, a South Korean naval vessel, the Cheonan, was cruising near North Korean waters. It was a cold night, and most of the 104 South Korean sailors were belowdecks sleeping, eating, or exercising. With no warning, a torpedo fired from an unknown source detonated below the Cheonan’s hull. The explosion ripped the ship apart, and its remains began to sink into the Yellow Sea. Forty-six sailors died. In May, a team of UN investigators concluded that a North Korean midget submarine was likely responsible for the unprovoked attack. This time, while the Security Council unanimously condemned the attack, China blocked the naming of North Korea directly or a more robust response. Here was one of China’s contradictions in full view. Beijing claimed to prize stability above all else, yet it was tacitly condoning naked aggression that was profoundly destabilizing.

  In July 2010, Bob Gates and I returned to South Korea together to meet with our counterparts and demonstrate to Pyongyang that the United States continued to stand firmly behind our allies. We drove out to Panmunjom, in the demilitarized zone (DMZ) that has divided North and South Korea since 1953. The DMZ is two and a half miles wide and follows the 38th parallel across the entire peninsula. It is the most heavily fortified and mined border in the world, and one of the most dangerous. Under an ominous sky we climbed up to a camouflaged observation point below a guard tower and the flags of the United States, the United Nations, and the Republic of Korea. A light rain fell as we stood behind sandbags and looked through binoculars into North Korean territory.

  As I stared across the DMZ, it
was hard not to be struck anew by how this narrow line separated two dramatically different worlds. South Korea was a shining example of progress, a country that had successfully transitioned from poverty and dictatorship to prosperity and democracy. Its leaders cared about the well-being of their citizens, and young people grew up with freedom and opportunity, not to mention the fastest broadband download speeds in the world. Just two and a half miles away, North Korea was a land of fear and famine. The contrast could not have been starker, or more tragic.

  Bob and I went inside the nearby headquarters of the UN forces with our South Korean counterparts for a military briefing. We also toured a building that sits squarely on top of the border, half in the north and half in the south, designed to facilitate negotiations between the two sides. There is even a long conference table positioned exactly on the dividing line. As we walked through, a North Korean soldier stood just inches away, on the other side of a window, staring stonily at us. Maybe he was just curious. But if his goal was to intimidate, he failed. I stayed focused on our briefer, while Bob smiled merrily. A photographer captured the unusual moment in a picture that ran on the front page of the New York Times.

  In our meetings with the South Koreans, Bob and I discussed steps we could take to put pressure on the North and discourage it from further provocative actions. We agreed to make a strong show of force to reassure our friends and make clear that the United States would protect regional security. We announced new sanctions and that the aircraft carrier USS George Washington would move into position off the Korean coast and join military exercises with the South Korean Navy. In all, eighteen ships, some two hundred aircraft, and about eight thousand U.S. and South Korean troops would participate over four days. There was outrage in both Pyongyang and Beijing about the naval drills, which told us our message had been received.

  That evening, South Korean President Lee Myung-bak hosted a dinner for Bob and me at the Blue House, his official residence. He thanked us for standing beside South Korea in its hour of need, and as he often did, he connected his own rise from an impoverished childhood to that of his country. South Korea had once been poorer than North Korea, but with the help of the United States and the international community it had succeeded in developing its economy—a reminder of the legacy of American leadership in Asia.

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  Another aspect of our pivot strategy was bringing India more fully into the Asian-Pacific political scene. Having another large democracy with a full seat at the table in the region could help encourage more countries to move toward political and economic openness, rather than follow China’s example of autocratic state capitalism.

  I had fond memories of my first visit to India in 1995, with Chelsea by my side. We toured one of the orphanages run by Mother Teresa, the humble Catholic nun whose charity and saintliness made her a global icon. The orphanage was filled with baby girls who had been abandoned in the streets or left at the front door for the nuns to find; because they were not boys, they were not valued by their families. Our visit had prompted the local government to pave the dirt road leading up to the orphanage, which the nuns considered a minor miracle. When Mother Teresa died in 1997, I led an American delegation to her funeral in Kolkata to pay our respects to her remarkable humanitarian legacy. Her open casket was carried through the crowded streets, and Presidents, Prime Ministers, and religious leaders from many faiths placed wreaths of white flowers on the funeral bier. Later her successor invited me to a private meeting at the headquarters of their order, Missionaries of Charity. In a simple whitewashed room, lit only by tiers of flickering devotional candles, the nuns stood in a circle of quiet prayer surrounding the closed casket, which had been brought back there as its final resting place. To my surprise, they asked me to offer a prayer of my own. I hesitated, then bowed my head and thanked God for the privilege of having known this tiny, forceful, saintly woman during her time here on earth.

  My first trip to India as Secretary of State was in the summer of 2009. In the fourteen years since I had first visited, trade between our countries had risen from less than $10 billion to more than $60 billion, and would continue to grow to nearly $100 billion in 2012. There were still too many barriers and restrictions, but American companies were slowly gaining access to Indian markets, creating jobs and opportunities for people in both countries. Indian companies were also investing in the United States, and lots of high-skilled Indian workers were applying for visas and helping jump-start innovative American businesses. More than 100,000 Indian students studied in the United States every year; some went home to put their skills to work in their own country, while many stayed to contribute to the American economy.

  In New Delhi I met with a broad cross-section of society, including Prime Minister Manmohan Singh, business leaders, women entrepreneurs, climate and energy scientists, and students. I was happy to see Sonia Gandhi, the head of the Indian National Congress Party, whom I had gotten to know during the 1990s. She and Prime Minister Singh explained how hard it had been to show restraint toward Pakistan after the coordinated terrorist bombings in Mumbai the prior November. They made it clear to me that there would not be such restraint in the event of a second attack. Indians referred to the attack on November 26, 2008, as 26/11, in an echo of our own 9/11. In a show of solidarity with the people of India, I chose to stay at the elegant old Taj Mahal Palace Hotel in Mumbai, which had been one of the sites of the gruesome attack that killed 164 people, including 138 Indians and four Americans. By staying there and paying my respects at the memorial, I wanted to send the message that Mumbai was undeterred and open for business.

  In July 2011, in sweltering summer heat, I traveled to the Indian port city of Chennai on the Bay of Bengal, a commercial hub that looks out toward the vibrant trade and energy routes of Southeast Asia. No Secretary of State had ever visited this city before, but I wanted to show that we understood India was more than Delhi and Mumbai. In Chennai’s public library, the largest in the country, I spoke about India’s role on the world stage, especially in the Asia-Pacific region. India has ancient ties in Southeast Asia, from the traders who sailed the Straits of Malacca to the Hindu temples that dot the region. Our hope, I said, was that India would transcend its intractable conflict with Pakistan and become a more active advocate for democracy and free-market values across Asia. As I told the audience in Chennai, the United States supported India’s “Look East” policy. We wanted it to “lead east” as well.

  Despite some day-to-day differences, the strategic fundamentals of our relationship with India—shared democratic values, economic imperatives, and diplomatic priorities—were pushing both countries’ interests into closer convergence. We were entering a new, more mature phase in our relationship.

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  A major goal of our strategy in Asia was to promote political reform as well as economic growth. We wanted to make the 21st century a time in which people across Asia become not only more prosperous but also more free. And more freedom would, I was confident, spur greater prosperity.

  Many countries in the region were grappling with the question of which model of governance best suited their society and circumstances. China’s rise, and its mix of authoritarianism and state capitalism, offered an attractive example to some leaders. We often heard that while democracy might work well elsewhere in the world, it wasn’t at home in Asia. These critics suggested that it was unsuited to the region’s history, maybe even antithetical to Asian values.

  There were plenty of counterexamples to disprove these theories. Japan, Malaysia, South Korea, Indonesia, and Taiwan were all democratic societies that had delivered tremendous economic benefits to their people. From 2008 to 2012, Asia was the only region in the world to achieve steady gains in political rights and civil liberties, according to the nongovernmental organization Freedom House. For example, the Philippines held elections in 2010 that were widely praised as a significant improvement over previous ones, a
nd the new President, Benigno Aquino III, launched a concerted effort to fight corruption and increase transparency. The Philippines were a valued ally for the United States, and when a terrible typhoon hit the country in late 2013, our partnership would ensure that joint relief efforts led by the U.S. Navy swung quickly into action. And, of course, there was Burma. By mid-2012 the democratic opening predicted by Indonesia’s President Yudhoyono was in full swing, and Aung San Suu Kyi, who for decades had been the imprisoned conscience of her nation, was serving in Parliament.

  There were other examples that were less encouraging. Too many Asian governments continued to resist reforms, restrict their people’s access to ideas and information, and imprison them for expressing dissenting views. Under Kim Jong Un, North Korea remained the most closed and repressive country in the world. As hard as it is to imagine, he actually made things worse. Cambodia and Vietnam had made some progress, but not enough. On a visit to Vietnam in 2010, I learned that several prominent bloggers had been detained in the days before my arrival. In my meetings with Vietnamese officials, I raised specific concerns about arbitrary restrictions on fundamental freedoms, including arrests and the severe sentences too often imposed on political dissidents, lawyers, bloggers, Catholic activists, and Buddhist monks and nuns.

  In July 2012, I took another extended tour across the region, this one designed to emphasize that democracy and prosperity go hand in hand. I started again in Japan, one of the strongest and richest democracies in the world, and then visited Vietnam, Cambodia, and Laos, where I would become the first Secretary of State to step foot in that country in fifty-seven years.

  I came away with two overall impressions from my short visit to Laos. First, Laos was still in the tight grip of its Communist Party, which itself was increasingly under the economic and political control of China. Beijing took advantage of the relationship to extract natural resources and push construction of projects that did little for the average Laotian. Second, Laotians were still paying a terrible price for the extensive bombing the United States carried out over its territory during the Vietnam War. It had earned the terrible distinction of being “the most heavily bombed country in the world.” This is why I visited a project in Vientiane supported by USAID to provide prosthetics and rehabilitation for the thousands of adults and children still losing limbs from the cluster-bombs littered throughout a third of the country, only 1 percent of which had been found and deactivated. I thought the United States had an ongoing obligation and was encouraged that in 2012 Congress tripled funding to speed up the removal work.