Dear Reader: The Unauthorized Autobiography of Kim Jong Il

by Michael Malice

  I was impressed though not surprised that he recalled his Korean history so well. “And how do you learn about these facts?” I said, with a little smirk. “Aren’t they military secrets?”

  He looked at me like I’d lost my mind. “Comrade, we boast of this reality loudly! We have for decades! We teach it in school. We even put it in all our external propaganda, I believe.”

  “That’s correct. As you know, for decades Korea has been under constant surveillance from US military satellites. Their unmanned spy planes fly over our territory every day. Building underground installations was all that we could do as countermeasures. This is all public knowledge, correct?”

  “Yes, comrade.”

  “So I’m going to issue a response,” I assured the official. “Just wait until you see the result!”

  I used a formula whenever issuing messages under the auspices of Songun diplomacy. Playing into American expectations, I made certain that my public statements always sounded high and intense. At the same time, I suggested a way out for those who were against me. Time after time, my threats got me precisely what I wanted. It was if I’d been issuing shopping lists instead of warning of complete annihilation! In this case, the blast of intensity came first: “The inspection clamor is an outrageous infringement upon the sovereignty of our Republic and the security of the state, so it will never be tolerated.” Then came the way out for the Americans: “If they want to dispel their doubt, they should offer substantial political and economic compensations for bringing disgrace to the image of our Republic by means of despicable slander and profanity.” Meaning, Korea was horribly, terribly, mortally offended—but if the Americans wanted to compensate me for hurting our feelings, then I’d be willing to consider it.

  In this case, the strategy worked. The strategy always worked. The United States was 78 times larger than Korea, with ten times the population. But I had the Americans like an elephant in an anthill. The ants could never devour the elephant—but they could still lead it in the direction that they wanted. The ants could get their way, especially when they came together as one.

  After much grandstanding and hyperbole, the American and Korean negotiators reached a compromise. The Americans claimed that they were neither rewarding me nor condoning my violent rhetoric. That is absolutely true. They didn’t “reward” me or “condone” my rhetoric. On the other hand, they did financially compensate me because of my aggression.

  On March 22, 1999, the United States announced that it would be supplying the DPRK with two hundred thousand tons of food, including one hundred thousand tons of potatoes. Instead of being funneled through the UN’s WFP, these goods would be offered directly—a first. This didn’t contradict the Juche principle of self-reliance one bit. I didn’t look at the package as aid so much as the repayment of a debt. The US imperialists had been threatening Korea for decades. It was entirely their fault that I’d had to expend such enormous sums on the military.

  In exchange for the food, I agreed to give the Americans a tour of our underground facilities. I even managed to force the Yanks to change their terminology—officially referring to a “visit” but never an “inspection.” If they wanted to give us hundreds of millions of dollars’ worth of food to have a look around, I was glad to oblige. Our tourist package usually went for far less.

  Before the Americans arrived for their visit, I called my diplomats together to discuss how best to approach the situation. “In a capitalist society,” I explained, “customers are catered to. Their pockets are picked clean in every possible way. Unfortunately, the socialist system is sometimes ice-cold and indifferent to the customer. Store workers don’t care if the customers buy anything or not. Instead of trying to sell something or even offering pleasant service, they’d rather no one show up so they won’t have to do anything. Please, treat these Yank bastards as they are used to be treating at home. Provide them with every amenity possible.”

  Per my instructions, the Americans were treated very well. After they left, they swiftly announced that they’d found nothing out of order in the facilities that they’d been shown and delivered the food that they promised. I couldn’t help but smile at how easy it had been for me to play them for fools. Such was the difference between being a “rival” nation and being an “enemy.” Such was the difference of a powerful military presence.

  Like any good general, I further pressed my advantage in the subsequent negotiations. The Americans couldn’t agree to my demands fast enough. The crippling economic sanctions were strongly reduced. The US would reexamine our official designation as a “state sponsor of terrorism” (a holdover from the 1987 Korean Air bombing). Finally, talks would be held to establish full and official diplomatic relations between the two countries. This last item was what most excited me; the Great Leader had been fighting for such relations until his last breath. The talks were so successful on my part that President Clinton’s opponents described them as “a surrender of the White House to the pressure of north Korea.”

  Yet the most important thing that the Yanks gave me was never discussed publicly. For the first time, the US backed away from opposing direct talks between north and south Korea. I always claimed that such talks would occur immediately as soon as the US imperialists got out of the way. Now the truth of my contention was proven. In early 2000, I elaborated a plan for a summit between the north and the south. South Korean President Kim Dae Jung agreed to come to Pyongyang on June 13, the first southern leader to ever do so. It was by far the biggest step toward reconciliation and reunification since Korea’s division after World War II.

  Kim Dae Jung had taken over south Korea in 1998. In a complete break with his dictator predecessors, he called for a “Sunshine Policy” with north Korea. He advocated ignoring past hostilities for the sake of better relations in the immediate future. When I heard a common acquaintance describe Kim Dae Jung as “peasant-like,” I grew extremely hopeful about our future relations. It seemed like he was exactly my favorite type of person to deal with.

  THE CASE FOR REUNIFICATION

  It’s difficult for some Westerners to understand how I could have possibly hoped for reunification at such a late date. For them, the goal was no longer a realistic one—but that was because it had never been their goal to begin with. Korea’s fate had always been the sole concern of the Korean people themselves. When Korea had been colonized and enslaved, international inquiries only came from foreign nations worried about threats to their own vested interests. They never cared about Korea or the Korean people themselves, not for a moment. That’s something that never changed.

  There were many concrete reasons that I held out hope for reunification. Only one other country was divided due to World War II: Germany. Despite the political, social and even physical barriers, Germany was very successfully reunited in 1990. Yes there had been difficulties, but the Germans came together and overcame them. Reunification worked even though “Germany” had only existed as a country for less than two centuries. Korea, of course, had been a nation for far longer, for millennia.

  There was another, even more recent case that filled me with hope: the May 22, 1998 peace-proposal referendum between Northern Ireland and the Republic of Ireland. In that case, all sides concerned voted overwhelmingly in favor of the agreement. Yes, violence from hardliners ensued as a consequence. But the radicals soon had no choice but to declare a complete ceasefire, due to the almost complete lack of support from the people.

  There were undoubtedly obstacles to Korean reunification, the biggest of which was considered to be the financial cost. During the Arduous March, the south had provided a great amount of temporary assistance to the north. But viewing this exchange strictly from a financial perspective was a very capitalistic, very flawed approach. No matter how much money the south might have had at a given time, there were things that only the north could provide to them. South Korea was a region characterized by the prevalence of immoral acts such as sexual flirtation, rape and a high rate o
f divorce. The deplorable misery of wives being beaten, of husbands being killed in retaliation, was a daily occurrence there. By its own data, the south had the most suicides and most plastic surgeries per capita on earth. The south was nothing less than a land devoid of true love—and there was no place in the world where the virtue of loving others was realized as it was in the north. What we offered the south was far greater than anything they could send us in return.

  As Kim Dae Jung’s visit approaches, I too had to deal with doubters. It’s no secret that most of the DPRK’s political leadership would be considered “hardliners” and “radicals” outside of Korea. It was a natural consequence of a nation formed by violent revolution and led under the direction of my Songun politics. In fact, one prominent Korean whose name I won’t mention came to speak with me about the forthcoming summit. There was no doubt that he considered it a waste of time at best. “The United States will never withdraw its troops from the south,” he insisted. “This is yet another trick!”

  “What about China?” I said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “The Americans reconciled with China in 1972, didn’t they? Do you remember what happened?”

  “I do,” he replied. “They issued the Shanghai Joint Communique.”

  “And did they stick to those terms?”

  Now he lowered his head. “Yes, they did.”

  “What happened then?”

  “The American soldiers withdrew from Taiwan and the military bases there were closed.”

  “That’s right,” I said. “The two countries established diplomatic relations in 1979, with the US severing diplomatic relations with Taiwan at the same time. It’s my hope that the conflict between Korea and the United States can come to a similar peaceful resolution, and soon. This summit might very well go down in history as the first step toward that all-important goal.”

  I knew there were worries in the south about how Kim Dae Jung would be received. I’d been so demonized in their media that it sounded like I was capable of every depravity imaginable. I was dumb and ridiculous and ugly, an alcoholic and a sex-maniac. Their articles were more interested in explaining that I enjoyed Hennessey Paradis than in explaining my economic policies. Amazingly, there were even southern fears that Kim Dae Jung would be arrested and held hostage! Of all the comments against my character, it was those from my fellow countrymen hurt most. Korea had long been known as a country of good manners. There wasn’t the slightest question that I’d receive Kim Dae Jung with every possible display of respect, in line with traditional Korean etiquette.

  Because Kim Dae Jung was my elder, I made it a point to go to him with a personal greeting at the Pyongyang Airport. As he got off the plane I walked up and shook his hand warmly, even sharing a hug with my brother from the south. Though I was in my usual people’s clothes and he was in a conservative suit, still we were of one blood. Our only separation had been geographical.

  All throughout the airport, cheers emerged as people burst into tears. The masses had been waiting for reunification their entire lives, and here in front of their very eyes were the men who had the power to make it happen. I made it a point to deferentially walk behind Kim Dae Jung as we went to the arranged car. As the two of us drove to the capital, hundreds of thousands of Pyongyangites stood on the road alongside our route, waving Korean flags and cheering “Manse!”

  At the guest house, I let Kim Dae Jung be the first one to speak to the assembled journalists. After he was done I said a few words myself. Then I felt what seemed like hundreds of cameras going off at once. The photographers called out for us to pose with our hands lifted up together. “What, you want us to be actors for the cameras?” I quipped, as we got into position. Everyone in the room burst out into laughter, even those skeptics in Kim Dae Jung’s entourage. It wasn’t that I had said something particularly funny. Rather, it was the fact I obviously wasn’t some humorless monster with horns growing out of my head. The pictures done, I looked around and smiled. “Well, now you have to pay for our acting! How much did I earn for my performance?”

  Since Kim Dae Jung would only be in Pyongyang for two days, I made sure that his itinerary covered all the sights that the city had to offer. Seeing the capital for himself would tell him far more about the state of the DPRK than anything that I could possibly say. Being Korean, it would obviously be of enormous curiosity to him on a personal level as well. Together with his party, he ended up visiting the Mangyongdae Schoolchildren’s Palace, the Pyongyang Maternity Hospital and the Grand People’s Study House. He also paid a courtesy call to the Supreme People’s Assembly.

  The schedule had four hours blocked out for the two of us to speak by ourselves. At first we made typical small talk, both of us trying to establish commonalities and trust. But the conversation soon took off in every direction possible, both of us extremely interested in the other one’s thinking. Obviously we focused heavily on politics, but we also talked about films and even popular south Korean celebrities. If Kim Dae Jung was surprised that I could discuss such matters at length, he didn’t show it. If anything, he was amused by how much I knew. Regardless of the subject under consideration, there was no tension or awkwardness between the two of us whatsoever.

  It was one of the worst conversations of my life.

  I thought that Kim Dae Jung was mumbling when we first began our discussion. Then it seemed like he was speaking too quickly from excitement. Finally, there was even a moment where I feared that something was amiss with my hearing. Understanding that none of these possibilities were actually the case, I still couldn’t figure out why I was having such a difficult time following him. Eventually I deduced what was happening: We were speaking different languages. Or, to be more precise, we were speaking one language in the process of becoming two.

  Kim Dae Jung hadn’t been trying to stress the differences between us. Quite the opposite: his every sentence was designed to bring us together and create a sense of unity. But I could only understand approximately 80% of what he was saying. The rest was filled with terms I didn’t know— probably borrowed from Western languages—and pronunciations completely foreign to my native Korean. I even felt slightly self-conscious, knowing that southerners regard the northern accent as “guttural.” But the northern version of Korean could no longer be described an “accent.” No, it was a dialect. There wasn’t any clearer illustration of how the two Koreas had been growing apart.

  I had looked at Kim Dae Jung as a brother when we first met. A long-lost brother, and one raised by a family terribly different from my own, yet a brother all the same. But I was naive. He didn’t look at me as a brother. I was a cousin to him at best, and a backwards one at that. I wondered how long would it take before those in the DPRK were regarded by southerners as distant relatives. Twenty years? Thirty? After that, we’d just be neighbors. The five-millennia history of Korea would become a thing of the past, really and truly—and irrevocably.

  That conversation was the first time in my life when I suspected that reunification might not happen. After the Arduous March, I expected Korea to emerge victorious on the other side just as with the original Arduous March. It is well known that one can lose a battle and still win the war. It terrified me to see that apparently the reverse could be true as well. One could win a battle, but the war for a unified Korea seemed to be slipping away.

  Soon it came time for the two of us to attend a banquet at Mokran House, where all visiting foreign dignitaries are hosted. I’ve often said that “time is something very easy to spend but very difficult to spare,” so I was aware of how urgent things had become. I made a decision to switch priorities and focus on the short-term during the rest of the summit. The first such thing on my agenda would be the release of all the unconverted long-term prisoners still held captive in the south, men like Ri In Mo who had never lost faith in the Juche idea despite years of incarceration. This went hand in hand with all the families who’d been separated since the 1950s. I quickly thought abo
ut how best to broach these admittedly very sensitive subjects.

  I saw my opportunity as we sat down at the banquet. Per custom, Kim Dae Jung’s wife was seated apart from us. Seeing this, I stood up in front of the packed room. Instantly it grew silent, as if I were making a toast. Instead I turned and addressed the south’s first lady. “We meet to address the issue of separated families, and yet here we are making another separated family. Please, come sit by me!”

  With a smile and a chuckle she got up and sat down by her husband and myself. When I glanced over at Kim Dae Jung, he gave a very brief nod as acknowledgment. He was a shrewd man; he understood what I was getting at and why I chose to broach the subject in such a manner. He didn’t say another word about the issue at dinner, but when we left and got into the car it was he who brought the issue up. “I couldn’t help but catch your reference to separated families,” he told me. “This is something, I think, that we can come to a quick, easy agreement on. It would be proof of the summit’s success. The truth of my Sunshine Policy would be blatantly demonstrated for all the world to see.”

  I grinned. “What I’d personally like to see happen is the return of the remaining unconverted long-term prisoners.”

  Kim Dae Jung winced and looked away. “I expected you to bring that up.”

  “Look, these men are all aged. None of them will cause you any problems when released. In the south, they’re just taking up space. Here, they’ll be awarded the highest honors and provided with the finest living conditions. All they want at this point is to be able to die in their homeland, and to be buried in the north. Please, consider it a personal favor.”