Preparing for the New Cold War
Yoo Jae-won’s first stop upon arriving in Washington, D.C., was not the White House or any politician’s office. Instead, he headed to a modest building along the Anacostia River, where the white dome of the U.S. Capitol could be seen in the distance. The structure had no prominent sign out front. From the street it looked small, but once inside it revealed a surprisingly spacious layout, stretched long and narrow like a corridor.
“We sincerely welcome you, Chairman.”
The moment Yoo Jae-won arrived, a group of people came out to greet him as though they had been waiting.
“Good afternoon. I’m Ed Royce, director of the institute.”
Ed Royce was the key figure Yoo Jae-won had personally selected for the East Asia Strategy Institute. A white man from Los Angeles with no prejudice toward Koreans, he had also blazed through America’s elite academic and professional tracks in a single stroke. Royce harbored political ambitions of his own and needed a powerful backer; when Yoo Jae-won appeared, the two quickly formed a strong partnership.
“Good to see you, Director Royce. I’m Yoo Jae-won.”
The welcome was not overly elaborate, though it drew enough attention that passersby on the street paused to wonder what event was taking place. Yoo Jae-won had grown accustomed to public interest, but he had no desire for this kind of spectacle. After exchanging brief greetings, he stepped inside at once.
This was the East Asia Strategy Institute, one of the think tanks under the ID Group umbrella. Even within ID Group, however, few executives knew much about the institute. It was not an organization that actively operated inside the company. Its role was to exert influence in Washington, D.C., by producing reports and strategies for members of Congress and administration officials that advanced ID Group’s interests. In broad terms it functioned as a lobbying entity, though the Deokjin Foundation handled specialized lobbying work. The institute’s primary mission was to highlight Korea’s importance to the United States and, on that foundation, to forecast the future of East Asia. In short, one could simply add a few words to the institute’s name: “For the Joint Interests of Korea and the United States.”
For Korea the mission was self-evident, but for the United States it was not. Since the end of World War II, America’s core East Asian strategy had centered on Japan. From the Acheson Line onward, Japan had been Washington’s highest-priority ally in the region. Korea’s role was little more than a forward base and proxy partner against the continental powers of the Soviet Union and China—a place to advance if conditions allowed, or to abandon if they did not. The institute had been created precisely to change that American strategy.
“Here is the report.”
Director Ed Royce handed Yoo Jae-won a laptop displaying the document. It was the report Yoo Jae-won had commissioned before departing for North Korea.
“The title is excellent.”
The bold title on the screen read: The Rise of the People’s Republic of China and an In-Depth Study of U.S. Forces in North Korea.
In 1998, the United States had no peer competitor. Its long-time rival, the Soviet Union, had dissolved, and Russia, which had inherited the Soviet legacy, had collapsed into economic ruin after another moratorium. Having lost its great adversary, America was driving the global IT revolution and achieving remarkable economic gains, yet it remained dangerously complacent on national security. China was rising at a frightening pace, but Washington’s underestimation of that threat ran deep. With Russia gone, many assumed the Chinese Communist Party would soon follow. China was viewed as nothing more than the world’s factory, a source of labor-intensive manufactured goods. That complacency would later exact a heavy price.
Through the East Asia Strategy Institute, Yoo Jae-won intended to sound the alarm about China’s danger while simultaneously pushing for a fundamental shift in America’s traditional East Asian strategy. The very phrase “U.S. forces in North Korea” was something Washington had never seriously contemplated, yet it was also an extraordinarily attractive proposition. The report argued that stationing even a single Marine battalion on the Kaema Plateau would project greater presence than an entire carrier strike group. The claim was not mere rhetoric; it was backed by sophisticated simulations and multiple layers of supporting evidence. The report also laid out China’s threat in concrete terms, systematically mapping scenarios from trade war to outright military confrontation. Naturally, Yoo Jae-won’s own input shaped the final product. He had shared with Director Royce, via ID Talk, vivid accounts drawn from his previous life rather than abstract speculation. Royce had already believed China would become America’s next great rival after Russia, so he had taken Yoo Jae-won’s words seriously. The report reflected that conviction. Yoo Jae-won was confident that no previous East Asian strategy document had been more accurate.
The critical variable, however, remained North Korea’s willingness to change. Placing a U.S. Marine battalion in North Korea would require an enormous political decision and genuine innovation. The report’s core argument was that Korea would take the lead in making that happen, and that an end-of-war declaration and peace treaty would be essential first steps.
“It would be wonderful if everything unfolded exactly this way.”
“It would be the finest opening move in preparation for a new Cold War. But it won’t be easy.”
The concept of a “new Cold War” originated in the report. While the original Cold War between the United States and the Soviet Union had been defined by espionage and the space race, the new Cold War between America and China would be an economic conflict. Yet economic warfare did not preclude military power. A high-level military posture would underpin the economic contest, and the presence of U.S. forces in North Korea—capable of striking straight into Beijing—would be immense. In the twenty-first century, when China’s power would explode, such a deployment would be unthinkable. But at this early stage of economic opening, it remained possible. Moreover, many in China harbored resentment toward supporting North Korea while pursuing their own economic development, and North Korea itself had grown deeply disillusioned. The timing for executing the strategy was ideal. America would not have to act directly; Korea would assume the risk. Through these moves, Yoo Jae-won aimed to reshape America’s entire East Asian strategy. If North Korea became the new forward base, Korea—linked to that base—would take Japan’s place, while Japan would be reduced to America’s savings account.
“You must have been working under tight deadlines, yet it’s flawless.”
After finishing the report, Yoo Jae-won offered his praise without reservation.
“I’ve already been at this for four years.”
Director Royce accepted the compliment with modest grace. Since the institute’s founding, its steady work had been the study of East Asian strategy, and the broad blueprint had already been drawn. Even an unexpected request could therefore be met with a high-quality report. Because the strategy would provoke fierce resistance from Japan—left as an afterthought—and from China, absolute secrecy had been required. That was why Yoo Jae-won had reviewed the document in person rather than receiving it by email, even though the institute’s extreme security protocols had made secure transmission possible.
“How do you plan to release it?”
The report contained a future strategy that could shape the coming decades, so its launch needed impact. Washington was crowded with think tanks like the East Asia Strategy Institute, all churning out reports daily. Simply sending copies to congressional offices and posting it online, as other institutes did, would likely see this carefully crafted document dismissed as spam, just like previous ones.
“Do you have any suggestions?”
“What if we publish it as a book?”
“A book?”
The idea clearly surprised Director Royce.
“We’ll still release the report, of course. If we compile all our previous East Asia reports into a single volume, it will easily fill a book.”
“That’s true, but…”
“How about the title Rising China?”
The goal was not to promote Korea unconditionally, but to maximize Korea’s geopolitical and political relevance as a counterweight to China. The institute’s accumulated library was substantial enough that producing a book was no great burden. Written in accessible language and forecasting China’s rise, it could be read even by ordinary Americans unfamiliar with East Asia—and would likely be rediscovered years later.
“It would be even better if prominent politicians attended the publication event.”
“Of course!”
When Yoo Jae-won endorsed an idea, it almost always came to pass. Although Ed Royce had entered Washington from Los Angeles, he had never commanded significant attention. A publication event attended by influential politicians would change that completely. Royce knew how difficult writing a book could be, yet the proposal was impossible to refuse.
Having fired up the director, Yoo Jae-won moved on to his next appointment: the White House.
The West Wing. It was the brain of the world’s most powerful nation. Its occupant, President Clinton, looked different from before. Since the Lewinsky scandal, he appeared to be under constant pressure from First Lady Hillary Clinton; his face was more lined, and his hair had grown noticeably grayer. International crises had added further burdens. Still, the arrival of Yoo Jae-won—his reliable ally—brought a smile to his face, even if the worry in his eyes remained unmistakable.
The most pressing issue tormenting Clinton at that moment was the nuclear arms race between India and Pakistan. Treaties such as the Nuclear Non-Proliferation Treaty held no sway over either country. The United States had tried and failed to halt their competition. American intelligence had already determined that India would soon conduct a nuclear test, and Pakistan was expected to respond with its own nuclear and ballistic-missile tests. Domestic problems also weighed on him. Although the Nasdaq was collapsing, unemployment had fallen to 4.3 percent—the lowest level since February 1970—signaling a robust economy. While many venture firms were failing, new ones were constantly emerging. Companies with solid revenue models, like ID Group, remained largely insulated from the bursting IT bubble. The FDA had recently approved Viagra for erectile dysfunction, sending pharmaceutical stocks soaring. America’s economy was strong, yet Clinton was suffering the consequences of a scandal he had brought upon himself. He might soon be summoned before Congress for hearings, and the risk of impeachment loomed large.
It was at this juncture that Yoo Jae-won arrived bearing the card of a North Korean end-of-war declaration. He had already informed Jeon Myeong-heon that he would meet Clinton to explain the post-armistice situation on the Korean Peninsula and the broader East Asian strategy. Jeon Myeong-heon, well aware of Yoo Jae-won’s close relationship with the president, had readily agreed. This was not an official envoy mission; the State Department would handle formal preparations for a U.S.–Korea summit through regular diplomatic channels. Yoo Jae-won’s role was simply to lubricate the process so those talks could succeed.
“Congratulations! I hear you struck oil in Texas.”
Once seated, Clinton opened the conversation with the Texas story.
“They say the rig you chose is gushing black crude dozens of meters into the air.”
“Pardon? Oil gushing dozens of meters? That’s the first I’ve heard of it.”
“Haha, I’m exaggerating, of course. Still, I thought Texas oil exploration was finished, yet you’ve triggered what might become a second Black Gold Rush.”
Despite the worst scandal of his career, Clinton’s characteristic good humor remained intact.
“You started with computers, became a media giant, and now you’re in oil. Remarkable. A lot of people are watching to see how far you’ll go. I’m one of them.”
He did not neglect to add a subtle warning.
“Oil, you say. That’s a bit much. I merely helped Tiffany with data analysis. I have no intention of moving into that field myself.”
“Understood. We’ll leave it at that.”
Clinton nodded as though he knew better. Realizing further protest would be useless, Yoo Jae-won moved to the main topic: his visit to North Korea and the unexpected one-day extension that had led to the request for an end-of-war declaration. He explained everything in the most objective tone he could manage.
“An end to the war. Interesting. So do you believe North Korea has genuinely abandoned its nuclear ambitions?”
After listening intently, Clinton fixed Yoo Jae-won with a sharp gaze.
“I’ve been to North Korea, but I can’t say for certain. How can anyone truly know another person’s mind? What the United States does have, however, is the power to treat it as fact.”
Regardless of Kim Jong-il’s true intentions, North Korea was now taking steps toward denuclearization. The Yongbyon reactor, long a symbol of its nuclear program, had been shut down, and IAEA inspections were proceeding smoothly. In the past, Pyongyang would have resisted or hidden facilities. Now, no reports of non-cooperation had surfaced. Moreover, North Korea currently possessed neither nuclear warheads nor ICBMs. The difficulty of negotiating denuclearization under those conditions was entirely different from the twenty-first century, when both capabilities would already be complete.
Yoo Jae-won reached into his bag and handed Clinton the document he had personally verified before coming to the White House: The Rise of the People’s Republic of China and an In-Depth Study of U.S. Forces in North Korea. It was no simple printout; it had been professionally bound in hardcover. Clinton’s eyes lit up as he read the title on the cover and accepted the book.