The Korea Model

In the middle of August 1952, Chinese Premier Zhou Enlai traveled nearly 4,000 miles to Moscow to meet with the Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin. Zhou was acting as an emissary for the leader of China, Mao Zedong. The two Communist powers were allies at the time, but it was not a partnership of equals: the Soviet Union was a superpower, and China depended on it for economic assistance and military equipment. Two years earlier, Mao and Stalin had embarked on a joint venture of sorts, giving their blessing to the North Korean leader Kim Il Sung when he invaded South Korea. Their hopes had been high; even though the United States immediately rushed to South Korea’s aid, Stalin telegrammed Kim in the wake of the invasion to tell him that he had “no doubt that in the soonest time the interventionists will be driven out of Korea with ignominy.”

Things had not gone according to plan. In the fall of 1950, as troops led by U.S. General Douglas MacArthur advanced through North Korea, China directly intervened. By the middle of 1951, a bloody stalemate had set in along the 38th parallel, the line that had delineated North from South Korea before the invasion. Negotiations between the opposing sides began in July of that year. Their purpose was to reach an armistice and set the stage for discussions about Korea’s future. The talks had deadlocked, however, over the details of exchanging prisoners of war.

When Zhou traveled to Moscow in the summer of 1952, the situation was looking grim for the Communists. Airstrikes had destroyed the North’s industrial facilities and heavily damaged every city. Food was short. In February, Kim told Mao that he had “no desire to continue the war.” Around five months later, Kim pleaded with Stalin to bring about “the soonest conclusion of an armistice.” But Stalin did nothing. Like Stalin, Mao was determined to stand fast in the face of U.S. demands, and he was less worried than Kim was about the battlefield. Like Kim, however, Mao knew that his country was suffering.

Over the course of the Cold War, Zhou would earn a reputation as a cool diplomat. Yet arriving in Moscow as the bearer of bad news, he could not have been at ease. His task was to sound out Stalin’s openness to a truce. Stalin had been behind the war, and it seemed reasonable to assume that talk of shutting it down would displease him.

The meeting took place on August 20. Stalin wanted to know if the Chinese and North Koreans could increase the military pressure on the United States. Zhou expressed confidence that “both sides are about equal in strength” but noted that a Chinese “general offensive would be difficult to carry out.” In other words, there were no good military options for coercing the United States. To exude confidence, Zhou reassured Stalin that “Mao believes that the continuation of the war is advantageous to us, since it [distracts] America from preparing for a new world war.”

“Mao Zedong is right,” Stalin affirmed, according to Russian archival documents. “This war is getting on America’s nerves. The North Koreans have lost nothing, except for casualties. . . . [The] Americans understand that this war is not advantageous and they will have to end it. . . . Endurance and patience [are] needed here.” Zhou praised “the truth of comrade Stalin’s observations.” Then he tried again. The North Koreans are “wavering somewhat,” he said. “They are in a slightly unsteady state. Among certain elements of the Korean leadership one can detect a state of panic, even.” This seemed to annoy Stalin, who replied that he had been “already informed of these feelings.” Zhou backed off.

A month later, Zhou broached again with Stalin the possibility of accepting a cease-fire and putting off contentious details regarding prisoner exchanges. Stalin dismissed the idea as “one of [several] possible scenarios, but America is not likely to agree to it.” It was clear that Stalin wanted the Chinese and North Koreans to press on and forgo compromise. Zhou was left with little choice but to assent to Stalin’s counsel, which he praised as “valuable instructions.”

The fighting would rage for another ten months before the two sides would agree to an armistice, albeit on terms that were slightly worse for China and the Soviet Union than those that Zhou and Stalin had discussed. During that time, tens of thousands died, and tens of thousands more were wounded. Ultimately, 36,574 Americans were killed in the war and 103,284 were wounded. China lost an estimated one million people, and four million Koreans perished—ten percent of the peninsula’s population.

The armistice ended that bloodshed, establishing a demilitarized zone and mechanisms to supervise compliance and mediate violations. But the Korean War did not officially conclude. The major political issues could not be settled, and skirmishes, raids, artillery shelling, and occasional battles broke out. They never escalated to full-blown war, however. The armistice held—and 70 years later, it still holds.

Today, the Korean Peninsula remains a site of high geopolitical tension. North Korea is governed by a dictator who brutally represses his citizens and regularly threatens his neighbors with nuclear weapons. But the carnage of the Korean War is now a distant memory, and the peace produced by the armistice allowed South Korea to develop a robust economy and, eventually, a stable liberal democracy. For all its flaws, the armistice was a success.

The war ravaging Ukraine today bears more than a passing resemblance to the Korean War. And for anyone wondering about how it might end, the durability of the Korean armistice—and the high human cost of the delay in reaching it—deserves close study. The parallels are clear. In Ukraine, as in Korea seven decades ago, a static battlefront and intractable political differences call for a cease-fire that would pause the violence while putting off thorny political issues for another day. The Korean armistice “enabled South Korea to flourish under American security guarantees and protection,” the historian Stephen Kotkin has pointed out. “If a similar armistice allowed Ukraine—or even just 80 percent of the country—to flourish in a similar way,” he argues, “that would be a victory in the war.”

The negotiations that produced the Korean armistice were long and difficult and took place alongside heavy fighting, before the war’s costs were clear enough to persuade either side to compromise. The same would likely be true today. The Korean experience also suggests that the obstinacy of Russian President Vladimir Putin—who, like Stalin, seems averse to compromise of any kind—could be especially obstructive. On top of that, domestic politics in the United States and the gap between Washington’s and Kyiv’s legitimate but distinct interests could trip up a cease-fire.

At the moment, debate in Washington often focuses on the question of when would be the right time to start pushing Ukraine to negotiate, and the consensus answer has generally been, “Not yet.” The Korean War shows that, in a military stalemate, it can take a very long time for both sides to clearly see that the costs of continuing to fight are outweighing the benefits. And by the time they do, a great deal of death and destruction can occur without producing any meaningful advantages.

If the United States, NATO, and other supporters of Ukraine do decide to work toward a cease-fire, the end of the Korean War offers three practical lessons. First, they must be willing to fight and talk simultaneously, using battlefield pressure to enforce demands at the negotiating table. Second, they should include the United Nations in any negotiations, since neutral arbiters are an asset. Finally, they should condition future security assistance and postconflict support for Ukraine on Kyiv’s willingness to make some concessions.

A complete victory for Ukraine and the West and a total defeat for the other side would be a welcome end to the Ukraine war, just as it would have been in Korea. And as in Korea, the risk of escalation confounds such an outcome. Kyiv, Washington, and their partners in opposing Moscow’s aggression should understand that an armistice that both Ukraine and Russia can accept—even if it fails to settle all the important questions—would still be a win.

FIGHTING AND TALKING

North Korea invaded South Korea on June 25, 1950. Two days later, the UN authorized the United States and 14 of its allies and partners (collectively known as the UN Command) to enter the war on South Korea’s side. For the first five months of the war, neither side sought negotiations.

The presence of American forces in combat so close to China concerned Mao. In August, he told the Politburo of the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), “If the U.S. imperialists won the war, they would become more arrogant and would threaten us. We should not fail to assist the Koreans. We must lend them our hands in the form of sending our military volunteers there.” In October, Mao made the fateful decision to send some 300,000 soldiers across the Yalu River to meet the advancing Americans.

The Chinese offensive routed MacArthur’s forces. Suddenly, all of Korea was in danger of falling to the Communists. MacArthur called for direct military action against China, not excluding the use of atomic weapons. U.S. President Harry Truman feared MacArthur might trigger a general war with the Soviet Union, which was by then a nuclear power. His team pieced together an alternative. In a joint communiqué issued in December 1950, Truman and British Prime Minister Clement Attlee called for cease-fire negotiations and assured the world that the American side would not use atomic weapons. Meanwhile, U.S. General Matthew Ridgway applied military pressure to coerce the Communists into negotiations while refraining from actions that could cause escalation, such as bombing China, launching operations deep inside North Korean territory, or capturing the North Korean capital, Pyongyang. The United States adhered to the main points of this strategy for the rest of the war.

The Communist side rejected U.S. and UN proposals for negotiations, and heavy fighting marked the first six months of 1951. Eventually, Ridgway’s forces recaptured all of South Korea. Despite the Communists’ best efforts, they could not advance farther south. The severe defeat of China’s so-called Fifth Phase Offensive, the largest battle of the war, proved to Mao and Stalin that a decisive victory would be impossible. After behind-the-scenes discussions with the American diplomat George Kennan, Jakob Malik, the Soviet representative to the UN, publicly called for a cease-fire and an armistice on June 23.

The talks began on July 10. Three main issues were at hand: the location of a cease-fire line, measures to supervise compliance, and the exchange of prisoners of war. Negotiations on the first issue proceeded slowly. The Communists wanted the 38th parallel to serve as the cease-fire line. The United States, on the other hand, preferred the frontline (or “line of contact”), which was slightly north of the parallel, where the rugged terrain was easier to defend. On November 27, after four months of fighting and talking, the two sides agreed that the line of contact would become the cease-fire line.

By the following spring, they had also reached an agreement on mechanisms for supervising the cease-fire. But no headway had been made on the question of how to exchange prisoners of war. Truman demanded voluntary repatriation, meaning that the roughly 170,000 Communist prisoners of war would be free to return to their home countries or seek residence in a different country. The United States claimed that if given such a choice, some 100,000 North Korean and Chinese prisoners would elect not to return home. For Mao and Stalin, such a mass defection would undermine the idea that communism would produce a utopia that no rational person would ever willingly leave. In October, after months of deadlock, U.S. General Mark Clark, Ridgway’s successor, recessed the negotiations indefinitely.

Dwight Eisenhower was elected U.S. president the following month. When he took office, he and his secretary of state, John Foster Dulles, publicly and privately signaled that they were willing to escalate into a more destructive war, seeking to convince the Communists that further fighting was not worthwhile.

The Korean War never officially ended—but the armistice has held for 70 years.

The pause in negotiations and the election of Eisenhower worried many UN members states and U.S. allies, including Canada and the United Kingdom, that feared the war might escalate. Debates at the UN led to a resolution written by the Indian diplomat V. K. Krishna Menon proposing a repatriation commission of neutral countries—Czechoslovakia, Poland, Sweden, and Switzerland—to facilitate the return of prisoners after an armistice. Hoping to avoid a rupture with its key allies, the United States grudgingly went along. The idea would soon become the basis of a compromise.

In March 1953, Stalin died, and Soviet and Chinese leaders immediately adopted a softer line on the talks. On April 26, negotiations resumed. In early May, the Soviets and the Chinese cribbed from India’s UN resolution and introduced the neutral nations repatriation commission on their own. Unfortunately, quibbling over minor details dragged things out, and the violence escalated. The United States intensified its air war on North Korea, and in May, Eisenhower approved a directive that outlined options for a further U.S. advance into North Korea, the bombing of Chinese air bases in Manchuria, and the use of atomic weapons if talks went nowhere.

On May 25, 1953, the U.S. delegation presented its final position, which accepted the establishment of a repatriation commission with some minor adjustments. If the Communists rejected the terms, Clark was authorized to ramp up military action. In a series of communications with officials in China, North Korea, and the Soviet Union, U.S. leaders including Dulles and Clark conveyed Washington’s willingness to escalate the war and possibly use atomic weapons.

The Communists agreed to the final position on June 4. Yet it was not over: South Korean President Syngman Rhee was not on board. About two weeks later, Rhee unilaterally released around 27,000 North Korean prisoners of war, upending the entire process. The Communists retaliated with their largest attack in two years. Some 30,000 South Korean soldiers were killed—a toll that, along with pressure and incentives from Washington, got Rhee to comply. At last, the armistice was signed on July 27.

BOXED IN

As Washington and its partners weigh the prospect of negotiations to end the war in Ukraine, they ought to be mindful of the heavy toll that a delay in reaching an armistice produced in South Korea. An outcome that essentially ratified the territorial status quo when negotiations began required threats of nuclear escalation and two years of intense fighting that inflicted more than 150,000 casualties on the United States, its allies, and South Korea and over 250,000 casualties on the Chinese and North Korean side.

Perhaps the most important factor contributing to the delay was that the Communists simply took too long to appreciate the true costs of the war and to realize that they could not outlast the United States. Whereas the debacle near the Yalu River in November 1950 had convinced Truman and other Western leaders to pursue negotiations, it had convinced Mao and Stalin that they could win the war outright. As the historians Shen Zhihua and Yafeng Xia have written, Mao had originally wanted to “localize the war” and simply defend China. The rout of the U.S.-led Eighth Army emboldened him to raise his sights, and he decided that China’s military strength would allow him to drive the United States off the Korean Peninsula, end U.S. support for Taiwan, and secure China’s entry to the UN. It took six months of heavy attrition in which roughly 150,000 were killed, wounded, or taken prisoner on the Communist side for Mao to realize that such ambitions were unrealistic and to seek an armistice based on the prewar status quo. By mid-June of 1951, Stalin had concurred.

Even then, however, Mao and Stalin were intent on using continued military action to gain leverage at the negotiating table before agreeing to a cease-fire. Given China’s massive advantage in manpower, they reckoned that the United States could never defeat China in a war of attrition. “Only by adopting an unyielding position can you win the initiative and force the enemy to yield,” Mao explained to one of his negotiators. “To achieve these objectives, you should prepare for a test of strength against the enemy through several more months of negotiations.”

The Communist side failed that test. First, a series of hard-hitting U.S., British, and Australian attacks compelled Mao to accept the line of contact as the cease-fire line in the fall of 1951. Then, after Mao and Stalin resisted concessions on prisoner exchanges, Clark subjected Communist forces to an intensified air campaign in 1952, striking targets in Pyongyang and hydroelectric plants that provided power to North Korea and much of Manchuria.

According to the historian Shu Guang Zhang, by the latter half of 1952, the war was absorbing roughly 50 percent of China’s revenues. Mao had already raised taxes and had requested a loan from the Soviet Union, to which China was heavily in debt. In August, Mao informed officials at a CCP meeting that the Chinese economy would collapse unless they halved war expenditures. The drain on the state’s coffers was delaying China’s full transition to a socialist economy, and Mao and the party fretted about internal dissent.

Though less worried than Kim, Mao had to weigh these economic and political concerns in considering a cease-fire. He did not want to break China, but he also did not want the CCP to appear weak as it consolidated power internally just three years after winning the Chinese Civil War. Mao was in a bind, which is why he sent Zhou to Moscow in August 1952.

Stalin wasn’t interested in helping Mao get out of a jam. He wanted only to preserve Soviet military capabilities, use China and North Korea to degrade U.S. military and economic strength, and avoid making any hasty concessions. From his viewpoint, North Korean and Chinese casualties were tolerable. Only when Stalin died in March 1953 did the Soviet position soften. Stalin’s successor, Georgy Malenkov, and other senior Soviet leaders (including Nikita Khrushchev) sought “peaceful coexistence” with the United States—continued competition, but with less tension and a lower risk of direct conflict. For them, the costs of continuing to fight over Korea seemed too high.

Yet to dwell on Stalin misses another reason that the war did not end earlier. The negotiations were hung up for 18 months by the U.S. demand that prisoners of war get to choose whether to be repatriated—a position driven by an ideological desire to show that communism held less appeal than democracy, and by domestic political pressure to look tough. For Truman, voluntary repatriation was an inalienable human right. In May 1952, he declared that forcible repatriation would be “repugnant to our most fundamental moral and humanitarian principles.” The policy received robust bipartisan support, as fierce anticommunism defined U.S. political culture at the time.

When the issue bogged down negotiations, Truman could not backtrack without facing accusations of weakness against communism during an election year. Later on, Eisenhower also worried that right-wing Republicans would cast any wavering on the issue as going soft. If Truman had never made the demand in the first place, the Communists might have agreed to a cease-fire much earlier, possibly before Stalin’s death. Put bluntly, two U.S. presidents ended up allowing thousands of U.S. soldiers to die not in service of any particular territorial goal or tactical advantage but to avoid domestic political backlash.

The South Koreans had a hand in delaying the armistice, as well. The entire agreement nearly fell apart after Rhee’s preemptive prisoner release. Rhee’s interests diverged from those of the United States. He wanted Korea unified under his government and had conceded only grudgingly to negotiations in 1951. Rhee also wanted a mutual security treaty with the United States that he hoped would deter the Communists from trying to overwhelm his forces at some future date. Washington had initially demurred; its defense priority in the region was securing Japan. So rather than passively accept the armistice, Rhee sought to undermine it. Even in the wake of China’s retaliation, Washington obtained Rhee’s cooperation only by promising to expand South Korea’s military, grant the country long-term economic assistance, and sign the mutual security treaty it had previously rejected. And Rhee never signed the armistice agreement: Washington just had to accept his word that he would abide by its terms.

A HARD ROAD TO PEACE

Today, as during the Korean War, an independent state is bearing the brunt of an act of aggression, and the ruler on the other side is bent on winning. As during the Korean War, great powers are center stage and nuclear weapons lurk in the background. And as during the Korean War, neither side seems likely to deliver a knockout blow on the battlefield, and neither side seems interested in pursuing a comprehensive peace deal.

Given the similarities, some of the same pitfalls that delayed the Korean armistice could hamper efforts to forge one in Ukraine. As in Korea, it might take a prolonged period of fighting to convince the parties to start negotiating. Putin, Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky, and Western leaders may wait to talk out of a belief that the battlefield situation will improve or that the other side may break. If negotiations began, that problem would persist. Either side might hope that an improvement in its battlefield fortunes could lead to a better deal, such as a slightly more advantageous cease-fire line or supervisory arrangement.

Another roadblock would emerge if Putin adopted a position similar to the one that Stalin held in 1952. Putin appears committed to dismantling an independent, democratic Ukraine and averse to losing any of the Ukrainian territory that his forces have seized since 2014. High battlefield costs may be insufficient to overcome his will. What is more, the possible domestic political costs of making any concessions might further steel his resolve, regardless of the economic and human costs. Even if Putin lets negotiations begin, he may refuse compromise and use stalling tactics to wring concessions out of Ukraine, the United States, and NATO.

U.S. domestic politics could also complicate negotiations, as they did during the Korean War. No matter what approach he takes, U.S. President Joe Biden will face an array of attacks on his Ukraine policy as the 2024 election approaches, especially if negotiations start in the coming months. Some “America first” Republicans will complain that continued support for Kyiv is wasteful and reckless. Other Republicans will decry any compromise with Russia as weakness—as will some Democrats. It is easy to see how an armistice could draw domestic criticism if, for example, the text does not recognize an independent and democratic Ukraine, restricts the freedom of navigation for Ukrainian exports through the Black Sea, or leaves Crimea or parts of the Donbas region under Russian occupation.

Meanwhile, Ukraine should not be expected to toe the Western line. As Eisenhower learned in dealing with Rhee—and as subsequent U.S. presidents discovered in dealing with leaders in South Vietnam and Afghanistan—a junior partner rarely does whatever Washington wants. Zelensky might resist pressure that the United States puts on him. His interests diverge in important ways from those of the United States and NATO, and so might his strategy. He has long refused to cede any of Ukraine’s territory under Russian occupation, including Crimea and the Donbas. Concessions on those areas could affect his future electoral prospects. Indeed, a cease-fire could leave Ukraine in a far worse strategic position, with lost territory, constricted access to the Black Sea, and an ambiguous security relationship with NATO. Under those circumstances, Zelensky may prove even harder to budge than Rhee was. Furthermore, the United States and its allies have less leverage over Ukraine than they did over South Korea. There are no U.S. military units on the ground; Ukrainians themselves are doing all the fighting and dying. And an alliance guarantee for Ukraine would be controversial. Whereas Eisenhower could easily offer an alliance to South Korea, a U.S. president today would face opposition from some NATO members.

NOTHING VENTURED, NOTHING GAINED

Given all the potential obstacles to an armistice in Ukraine, some might argue that the more realistic option would be to wait for the conflict to freeze, as did the fighting in eastern Ukraine after Russia’s 2014 invasion. A stalemate along the frontline could settle in, and violence could descend to a bearable, steady state. The problem is that a frozen conflict would buy Russia time to eventually return to full-scale war. Putin could wait for his position to improve and then launch another offensive. For that reason, an armistice featuring a signed document, international mediation, an agreed-on cease-fire line, supervisory mechanisms, and enforcement measures remains the least bad option.

There are a number of things that Washington and its partners can do to improve the odds of an armistice. First, diplomats should tightly integrate their bargaining with the use of military force: the idea is to fight and talk, not wish for Russian goodwill. A cease-fire in Ukraine would depend on sustaining military and economic pressure on Russia. The United States, NATO, and Ukraine should offer to start negotiations but keep up pressure on the battlefield and other fronts—for example, sanctions—until the Kremlin comes around. That is what Truman did when faced with Communist intransigence in Korea in late 1950 and early 1951. If Russia continues to reject negotiations, Washington and NATO could make the costs of stalling clear to Putin by giving Ukraine more equipment (such as ATACM missiles, tanks, fighter aircraft, and air defense systems) and by deploying special operations forces to Ukraine in a noncombat role. Once negotiations did begin, limited Ukrainian attacks could be coordinated with demands at the bargaining table. At the same time, security and economic assistance to Ukraine could be increased. In 2022, the United States contributed roughly $77 billion and the rest of NATO, $63 billion. They should expect to have to contribute at least the same amounts per year until a cease-fire occurs.

In setting up and carrying out negotiations, the United States and NATO should include the UN. Conventional wisdom in Washington today is that the UN is an ineffective diplomatic tool. Dulles mistakenly thought the same thing in 1953, but the organization’s mediation wound up playing a crucial role in the Korean armistice. Today, Russia may find it easier to accept ideas for compromise that come from neutral or friendly countries at the UN than proposals that come from the United States, NATO, or Ukraine. The fact that important members such as India have stood on the sidelines enhances the organization’s credibility in supervising and inspecting cease-fire arrangements.

To coax Zelensky toward a compromise, Washington and European governments should closely consult with him in designing the negotiations and ensure that his representatives play a central role in any talks. More important, they should condition postconflict security and economic assistance on Ukraine’s willingness to make concessions. Kyiv is certain to want security guarantees as part of any deal. Although NATO membership is unlikely anytime soon, U.S. and NATO diplomats would be wise to start exploring other kinds of assurances, such as long-term commitments to advise and train Ukrainian forces.

Biden will face an array of attacks on his Ukraine policy.

There are fewer options to address the single biggest obstacle to talks: Putin. His obstinacy may be insurmountable. The United States and NATO have no good levers to pull if Putin is truly insensitive to the costs of war. Targeting Russian elites with sanctions and supporting Russian opposition movements are superficially appealing. But Washington and its allies have too little access to Russia and too poor an understanding of the country’s political dynamics to bet on success. Hopes that Putin might be deposed seem even more far-fetched. It is worth remembering that Stalin’s intransigence ceased to impede talks in Korea only when he died. Since Putin probably cannot be ousted and probably will not die soon, pursuing negotiations is a gamble that he will cave at some point to military and economic pressure.

Thus, there is no guarantee that talks will occur or result in an armistice. Russia may be resolved to outlast the United States and NATO. Washington should bear in mind that its stakes in Ukraine are lower than its stakes were in Korea. It is hard to imagine that any American president would commit U.S. forces to fight alongside Ukrainian ones. Nor would Washington enable Ukraine to levy the degree of destruction on Russia that the United States visited on North Korea: breaking dams, knocking out power stations, bombing the capital. Just because negotiations were successful in Korea does not mean history will repeat itself.

Yet if pursuing negotiations is a gamble, it is one with low risks and high potential rewards. Failure would merely yield the same result as doing nothing. Success, however, could preserve Ukraine, allay wider fears for democracy, deter further Russian aggression, and put fears of escalation to rest. The kind of stable, durable peace the Korean armistice produced would be a victory not just for Ukraine and its supporters but for the entire world, as well.