Paradox of deterrence: Why a peace strategy needs focused military

KOREAN PENINSULA, SEOUL, PYONGYANG, 27 SEPTEMBER 2026 —

The Korean Peninsula’s Unresolved Paradox: Why Military Readiness Is the Bedrock of Peace

For millions living under the shadow of Pyongyang’s nuclear arsenal and Seoul’s military readiness, the lesson is clear—diplomacy thrives only when backed by an unshakable defense posture, not self-imposed limitations that erode credibility.

The stakes could not be higher. The Korean Peninsula remains one of the world’s most militarized flashpoints, where a miscalculation—whether intentional or accidental—could escalate into a regional conflagration with global repercussions. Yet, as Chun warns, the military’s role in sustaining peace is often misunderstood. While political leaders pursue dialogue, negotiate agreements, and seek reconciliation, the armed forces must do the opposite: maintain an ironclad deterrent that ensures no adversary doubts the cost of aggression.

The paradox, as Chun frames it, is that peace is most secure when the military is least willing to compromise its readiness—not when it preemptively weakens itself in the name of goodwill.

Chun’s argument stems from a troubling pattern within the ROK military establishment: a tendency for commanders to voluntarily scale back exercises, modify training, or relax postures without explicit political direction, under the mistaken belief that such moves signal flexibility and foster trust. These concessions, he insists, are not just ineffective—they are dangerous, undermining the very deterrence that gives diplomacy room to maneuver.

"Deterrence depends not merely on possessing weapons but on convincing an adversary that those forces are trained, prepared, and supported by a functioning command structure," Chun writes. "A military that voluntarily diminishes its readiness risks weakening the very shield that gives diplomacy room to operate."

The risks of preemptive military accommodation are twofold. First, unilateral reductions in readiness create uncertainty about resolve, potentially emboldening Pyongyang to test ROK defenses. Second, they foster institutional complacency, where military effectiveness becomes secondary to political expediency. Chun cites historical examples where defense officials—acting without clear civilian guidance—implemented operational concessions that political leaders neither demanded nor desired. The result?

A cumulative erosion of combat readiness, making it harder to restore full operational capacity once tensions rise again.

Chun’s critique is not an call for military aggression or obstruction of diplomacy. Instead, it is a plea for strict adherence to civilian control of the armed forces, where political leaders alone decide the terms of concessions, and military commanders execute those orders without second-guessing.

"If the government orders the military to modify an exercise, change a deployment, or accept operational restraint as part of a diplomatic agreement, the military has a responsibility to execute that lawful decision professionally," he states. "They should not make political concessions on behalf of civilian leaders who never asked for them."

The retired general’s warnings carry particular weight given his background. Chun served as commander of the ROK Army’s Special Warfare Command, overseeing elite units tasked with asymmetric warfare—a domain where readiness and surprise are paramount. His argument reflects a broader tension in South Korea’s defense policy: how to balance the pursuit of peace with the necessity of maintaining a credible threat response.

For years, Seoul has walked a tightrope, alternating between engagement and deterrence, only to see each approach tested by Pyongyang’s evolving nuclear and missile capabilities.

Regional observers note that Chun’s perspective aligns with growing concerns among ROK defense analysts about the long-term sustainability of military readiness in an era of shrinking defense budgets and political pressure to "do more with less." While South Korea’s military remains one of Asia’s most capable, sustained cuts to training, reduced live-fire exercises, and delays in procurement—often justified as cost-saving measures—have raised alarms.

Chun’s essay serves as a reminder that deterrence is not a static posture but a dynamic balance, one that requires constant reinforcement, not voluntary dilution.

For Malaysia and other regional powers, the Korean Peninsula’s dilemma offers a cautionary tale. As Southeast Asian nations navigate their own security challenges—from rising great-power competition to non-traditional threats—the lesson from Chun’s analysis is clear: diplomacy and defense are not mutually exclusive but interdependent. A nation that prioritizes one at the expense of the other risks leaving itself vulnerable to coercion.

In an era where adversaries test boundaries with increasing frequency, the message from Seoul is unambiguous: peace is not secured by weakness, but by the unshakable certainty that aggression will fail.

The final word belongs to Chun, whose call to action is direct: "Wake up and do your job." That job, he insists, is not to obstruct peace but to ensure that if diplomacy fails—which it always could—the military remains ready, disciplined, and unyielding. The paradox of deterrence, then, is not a contradiction but a necessity: the stronger the shield, the safer the hand extended toward peace.