SOMETIMES the dead or, in this case, the near dead, can cast a long shadow over world affairs. Take the example of North Korea and its moribund leader Kim Jung-Il. Whether or not the stricken president is still in the land of the living matters not a jot, his baleful absence from public life is still influencing matters in the troubled Korean peninsula and making life difficult for both sides of the divide.

No sooner had the administration in Pyongyang, aka the army's top generals, taken the decision to resume work on dismantling the country's main nuclear reactor at Yongbyon than they began threatening to break off all relations with their southern neighbour.

It's difficult to know which is the more perplexing decision. Brownie points galore were awarded by Washington when the generals agreed to allow inspectors from the International Atomic Energy Authority (IAEA) into the country to examine nuclear sites. These Brownie points came in the form of a decision to remove North Korea from the US blacklist of countries sponsoring terrorism - perhaps ironically in the same week that a winsome North Korean spy was convicted for obtaining South Korean secrets in return for sex.

For the US this was a positive move, but the steps forward were immediately replaced by further steps backwards when the generals announced that they were having nothing more to do with President Lee Myung-bak or the people of South Korea.

Throughout the existence of the two countries, which came into being in the wake of the second world war, threats and insults have flown between Pyongyang and Seoul with a regularity that makes one grateful that they are not guided missiles. Only once, between 1950 and 1953, did things turn really nasty when a hot war broke out between north and south and only some skilful diplomacy prevented a wider - and nuclear - confrontation between the US and China.

It was settled by an uneasy truce but things can still get pretty nasty along the demarcation line, which has been the scene of several nail-biting confrontations.

The worst came in the summer of 1976 when two US army officers were killed by the North Koreans over a spat about the trimming of a poplar tree thought to be blocking the line of sight for a United Nations' observation post. Local US commanders were unamused: a few days later they despatched a task force into the demilitarised zone; the offending tree was promptly chopped down and its stump was left as a silent reminder of the confrontation. To this day a memorial plaque marks the spot where a poplar tree almost caused a third world war.

No-one is saying that the present fall-out is going to produce a similar drama, but it's not good news for the region. The North Korean generals are clearly intent on bolstering their own position in advance of Kim's imminent demise. Lee, a conservative voted into office earlier this year, is a handy whipping-boy, even though by attacking him the North Koreans are biting the hand that feeds them. Without South Korean aid the regime in the north would be unable to function - its economy stands at less than 3% of the south's economy - and any freeze in the relationship could have unpleasant consequences for the generals.

The shortfall will probably be made good by renewed international aid as, under an agreement signed with South Korea, the US, China, Japan and Russia, the flow of money and food into North Korea depends wholly on its willingness to allow IAEA inspectors to visit Yongbyon. But it's still a high-risk policy as the impact of the global credit crunch has made the South Korean business community distinctly nervous about investing up north in return for the provision of financial handouts.

That's why Lee has been taking a tough stance on allowing an unconditional supply of funds for his flaky northern neighbours and that's why the generals were talking tough last week. Each wants to get some leverage while "the beloved leader" is lying comatose in a clinic somewhere.

Perhaps the most laughable aspect of the whole business was provided by the recent release of photographs of Kim inspecting a women's military unit. In his drab uniform he looked as spick and span as his country's tailors could make him and in any other circumstances he was the picture of health.

There was just one oddity about the picture - it was an outdoor location and the trees and the shrubbery were all sporting lush summertime greenery. There's only one answer to that. Either it was a miracle or the scene was shot back in July when the leaves had not yet turned to the gold and yellow of autumn.

Two decades after the infamous - and potentially disastrous - incident with the poplar, the North Koreans clearly still have a problem with trees.