What to make of Russian President Vladimir Putin's short stay in North Korea this week, where he greeted North Korean leader Kim Jong Un like a long lost brother and left Pyongyang with what the Russian leader termed a comprehensive strategic partnership?
The commentary thus far borders on the surreal. Victor Cha, a former National Security Council Asia policy director currently with the Center for Strategic and International Studies, wrote that the summit "presents the greatest threat to U.S. national security since the Korean War." Others have suggested the confab was a direct assault on the integrity of the international order.
I view it less dramatically. In essence, this week's meeting between Kim and Putin was the culmination of a series of geopolitical circumstances that have brought the two together. Whether their bromance lasts over the long-term is still to be determined.
By simply looking at the footage run by North Korea's state-run propaganda outlet, you can't be blamed for concluding that Moscow and Pyongyang are now the best of friends. Kim pulled out all the stops for his important Russian guest. He met Putin at the airport at roughly 3:00 in the morning, warmingly hugging the Russian leader after he de-boarded. The two drove together through the wide thoroughfares of the North Korean capital, where Putin's face was strategically placed on street-lamps. During a gala concert, Putin received a loud, standing ovation from the people in attendance. Warm words were exchange—Putin thanked Kim for supporting his war in Ukraine; Kim lavished praise on Putin and alleged that bilateral relations between Moscow and Pyongyang reached the level of an alliance.
As far as deliverables go, the two men ended their meetings after signing a bunch of documents that have yet to be released to the public. According to the Kremlin's press statement, the strategic partnership agreements consisted of clauses on trade and investment, culture, and humanitarian affairs. Russia and North Korea also reportedly agreed to "mutual military assistance" in the event of aggression on either of them.
It's this last item—mutual assistance in the military realm—that will cause the most heartburn in Washington. There is already a budding assumption in U.S. policy circles that Russia and North Korea are well on their way toward some kind of quasi-alliance. South Korean officials have stated that Pyongyang has sent approximately 10,000 containers of military equipment to Moscow, shipments that include nearly 5 million artillery shells—critical supplies at a time when Russian forces in Ukraine are preparing for their third summer fighting season. In return, the Russians have delivered the North Koreans much needed food and oil supplies, the latter of which is restricted by the very U.N. Security Council resolutions Moscow voted for years earlier. Speaking of sanctions, the U.N. monitoring committee that was designed to ensure compliance is no longer in existence courtesy of a Russian veto at the Security Council. There are also suggestions, albeit unconfirmed, that Russian technology was key in getting North Korea's first military satellite into orbit last November.
It's tempting to assume the current state of affairs between Putin and Kim will persist long into the future. Both, after all, have several interests in common—building an alternative power center to what they view as U.S. hegemony, undermining U.S. sanctions regimes, and ensuring their respective security needs are taken care of.
Even so, it's important to note that there is no alliance between Russia and North Korea, nor have the two (as far as we know) agreed to a mutual defense pact similar to what the United States has with Japan, South Korea, and the Philippines. For one thing, Russia is no position militarily to offer it given the fact that hundreds of thousands of its troops have been killed and grievously wounded in Ukraine over the last two and a half years. The vast majority of Russian ground forces remain tied up and Russia's entire defense-industrial complex is now busy serving the war effort there. How much force could Moscow spare?
Kim Jong Un, in turn, is unlikely to believe Russian promises even if Moscow made such a pledge. This has much to do with Russia's own actions as it does with the Kim dynasty's internal calculus, which is highly skeptical of outsiders, sees any promise by a foreign power as thin, and concluded long ago that the best way to keep the U.S. and South Korea at bay is by building up its own military capacity. Self-reliance is in the Kim dynasty's DNA. While Pyongyang would no doubt welcome Russian military technology, it's not going to outsource its security to a foreign power, whether it be Russia, China, or anybody else.
There is another player in this story as well—China. Although China shares Russia and North Korea's opposition to U.S. policies in Europe and East Asia, Beijing is also wary of watching as its dominant position on the Korean Peninsula undermined. The Chinese are frankly used to being the big dog in that region, and they are perfectly happy with the North Koreans relying on them for everything from food and oil to diplomatic support. Russia making headway in the North gives Kim with more flexibility and another great power to mooch off, akin to how his grandfather, Kim Il Sung, did business during his nearly five decades in power. Putin, however, needs to be careful about irritating China—with doors to the West shut for the foreseeable future, Putin can't afford to alienate his most important strategic partner.
Not to put too fine a point on it—everybody should sit down and take a breath.
Daniel R. DePetris is a fellow at Defense Priorities and a syndicated foreign affairs columnist at the Chicago Tribune.
The views expressed in this article are the writer's own.
