China’s massive military parade — the largest ever — was staged on Sept. 3 to mark the 80th anniversary of the end of World War II. The display projected China’s growing military prowess and its readiness to challenge American dominance in Asia. Yet for many watching closely, the parade carried another surprise: It gave North Korean leader Kim Jong-un an outsized diplomatic victory.

For Kim, who had been absent from major multilateral stages for years, the optics were priceless. He was treated as a central guest of honor, seated prominently beside Chinese President Xi Jinping, his protocol rank just second to Russian President Vladimir Putin. His position in the Tiananmen reviewing gallery spoke louder than any communique; it signaled that Kim, long cast as an international pariah, had secured acceptance, at least symbolically, among two of the world’s most powerful authoritarian leaders.

The carefully choreographed encounters were followed by one-on-one summits. Xi reportedly promised to expand economic and trade cooperation with North Korea, vowing to strengthen ties “no matter how the international situation may change.” Putin, for his part, expressed gratitude for Pyongyang’s support in his war against Ukraine and pledged deeper defense and economic engagement. Though concrete deliverables were thin, the political message was unambiguous: Kim emerged as a major player in a newly forming bloc.

In Washington, President Donald Trump reacted sharply on social media: “Please give my warmest regards to Vladimir Putin, and Kim Jong-un, as you conspire against the United States of America.” The remark captured both Trump’s trademark sarcasm and his unease at the sight of his one-time negotiating partner standing shoulder-to-shoulder with America’s chief rivals.

The irony is difficult to miss. Trump’s own foreign-policy approach — confrontational trade tactics, transactional demands on allies and open admiration for strongmen — arguably accelerated the realignments on display in Beijing. By straining alliances and shaking confidence in US reliability, he inadvertently widened the space for Xi and Putin to court Pyongyang.

Kim is unlikely to be blinded by the pomp. North Korea’s economy remains in dire straits, its survival tethered to China’s limited support. Russia, consumed by Ukraine and constrained by sanctions, cannot offer the scale of economic aid Pyongyang requires. Kim knows that nuclear weapons buy him leverage and prestige, but they do not build factories, feed his people or modernize his infrastructure. That reality explains why he continues to keep diplomatic channels cracked open, even after years of failed talks.

The parallels with 2018 and 2019 are striking. Back then, Kim traveled to China before and after his summits with Trump in Singapore and Hanoi, seeking Xi’s counsel and backing. Those meetings culminated in historic photo ops but collapsed over irreconcilable demands: the US asserting denuclearization first, Pyongyang demanding sanctions relief upfront. Six years later, Kim’s calculus appears unchanged — hold on to nuclear arms as bargaining chips, endure sanctions and wait for Washington to adjust expectations.

That adjustment may already be underway. After President Lee Jae Myung’s Oval Office meeting with Trump on Aug. 25, speculation has mounted over when and where another Trump-Kim summit could occur. Lee flattered Trump as the “only person” capable of resolving the division of the Korean Peninsula, casting himself as a facilitator. Trump, ever eager for the limelight, smiled and said he wanted to meet Kim again this year.

Yet the playing field has shifted. Kim’s nuclear and missile programs are more advanced, his ties with China and Russia more visible. Simply restarting talks will not suffice. A realistic path forward would involve phased reciprocity: Washington and Seoul might seek a moratorium on nuclear tests and missile launches, alongside firm assurances against proliferation. In exchange, the US could consider incremental sanctions relief, limited diplomatic normalization and ultimately a peace treaty to formally close the Korean War.

Such steps fall short of the “complete, verifiable and irreversible” denuclearization, once demanded by Washington. But they might represent the only viable bridge between Pyongyang’s determination to keep its arsenal and the international community’s need to contain the threat.

Against this backdrop, the question of venue takes on symbolic weight. Kim’s newly opened Wonsan-Kalma Coastal Tourist Zone — his long-trumpeted pet project — offers an intriguing possibility. The sprawling beachfront resort, equipped with hotels, an airstrip and leisure facilities, has so far attracted few foreign visitors. Hosting Trump there would breathe life into an otherwise underused monument to Kim’s ambitions.

The symbolism would not be lost on either man. At the Singapore summit in 2018, Trump famously showed Kim a video entitled “A Story of Opportunities,” extolling North Korea’s potential for investment and tourism. “They have great beaches,” Trump mused at the time. “That would make a great condo.” Kim built a resort to prove he could deliver — without the foreign capital Trump had dangled.

If Trump were to walk across Wonsan’s pristine sands next to Kim, it would signal more than another episode of high-stakes diplomacy. It would be a theatrical return to a narrative both leaders relish: Trump as the dealmaker, Kim as the indispensable partner. Whether such theater yields concrete progress is uncertain. But in a world where images often shape reality, the stage may already be set for Trump-Kim Act II — this time on North Korea’s east coast.

Lee Kyong-hee

Lee Kyong-hee is a former editor-in-chief of The Korea Herald. The views expressed here are the writer's own. — Ed.


khnews@heraldcorp.com