B00BY4HXME EBOK

by Lankov, Andrei

  In the post-2000 propaganda, the alleged poverty of South Korea has ceased to be a topic worthy of mention. It is even grudgingly admitted that South Korea might be relatively affluent (of course, this affluence was described as a bubble economy, being propped up by the scheming US imperialists for their selfish interests, and hence inherently unstable). However, with all its wealth, South Korea is represented as basically a very unhappy place. The reason for this unhappiness is that South Koreans’ national identity, their precious “Koreanness,” has been spoilt and compromised by the domination of American imperialists who propagate their degrading and corrosive “culture.” In the post-2000 propaganda narrative, South Koreans are suffering not from hunger, but rather from national humiliation as well as cultural and environmental degradation. South Koreans allegedly dream of liberation and envy happy Northerners, who might experience some temporary economic difficulties but nonetheless have managed to keep their pure national essence intact and have not sold out to those big-nosed servants of Mammon (the North Korean stereotype of Americans is remarkably similar to anti-Semitic stereotypes).

  Another recurrent topic of this new propaganda is the inequalities and assorted social ills that permeate South Korean society. As a matter of fact, by international standards, South Korea is a society of remarkable income equality (the “Scandinavia of East Asia,” as sociologist Aidan Foster-Carter once remarked), but the South Korean Left strongly believes otherwise. North Korean newspapers therefore happily reprint articles from the South Korean leftist media painting a grim picture of a country where the pampered few suck the blood of a destitute majority. Alleged environmental pollution has become another large topic nowadays. Interestingly, in the past, North Korea loved to present itself as a country of enormous steel mills and smoky factories, but nowadays, after the industrial collapse of the 1990s, the propagandists love to wax rhapsodic about the allegedly pristine environment of the country—and contrast it with the industrial pollution and environmental degradation of the South.

  To what extent does this propaganda work? This, of course, remains to be seen. Most likely a significant number of North Koreans buy this new propaganda line about “relatively-affluent-but-unhappy-and-debased” South Korea. But the “yellow winds of capitalism” and an understanding of South Korean prosperity is spreading as well.

  This growing awareness of the outside world is merely one of many changes that have occurred in the era of “capitalism from below.” North Koreans’ attitude toward domestic issues is changing as well. People below the age of 30 simply have no experience of life under the old regime of comprehensive rationing and are therefore not inclined to see the state as a natural provider of all life’s necessities. Many above the age of 30 have learned that they can do without the state and some of them came to enjoy this new situation.

  Once again, these trends should not be exaggerated. From regular interaction with North Koreans, I have come to suspect that the average North Korean would much prefer a regimented life under Kim Il Sung to the uncertainties of the subsequent era. After all, in Kim Il Sung’s era, everybody who was not unlucky to find themselves in a prison camp was certain that his or her subsistence-level rations would be forthcoming regularly. Sometimes people were malnourished, but they never starved. Soon after Kim Il Sung’s death in 1994, this old stability had gone. It is likely that the less successful majority would prefer to go back to the comfort of regularly delivered rations, even if this means more boring indoctrination sessions and greater risks of being sent to prison for a misinterpreted joke.

  At any rate, North Koreans do not have much choice. They have had to adjust, thereby modifying their career aspirations as well. For example, in spite of a significant increase in the intensity of militaristic propaganda after 1994, many North Koreans try to skip obligatory military service. In the past, the 7 to 10 years spent in the military were seen as attractive because soldiers could easily join the Korean Workers’ Party, thus acquiring the most essential prerequisite for social advancement. But party membership is not as highly prized as it used to be: after all, for an upwardly mobile and adventurous individual, the marketplace provides a faster way to earthly success.

  People have begun to ignore the institutions of state that were once created to keep them under constant surveillance. The notorious weekly mutual-criticism sessions as well as indoctrination meetings of various kinds still continue, but they have become somewhat less frequent and have lost much of their earlier intensity. One can even skip boring official functions in order not to miss a profitable day at the market, even though this might require a bit of bribery.

  Although completely unthinkable in Kim Il Sung’s North Korea, even riots began to occur occasionally. In March 2005, for example, Pyongyang experienced what was probably the first riot in the city in 60 years. The riot itself began at Kim Il Sung Stadium during a World Cup qualifying match between North Koreans and the Iranian team. In the middle of the game, an argument erupted between a North Korean player and a Syrian referee. The North Korean player shoved the referee, was sent off, and then violence erupted. Fans began to throw bottles, stones, chairs, and everything they could find at the Iranian players and referees. It took a few minutes before order was restored, while the stadium loudspeakers demanded that fans stay calm. The North Korean team eventually lost 2–0 and the violence resumed, continuing for almost two hours after the match. There were clashes between police and fans, and for a while Iranian players could not leave the stadium because of the unruly and outraged crowds outside. All of these events unfolded in front of foreign media, who did not miss an opportunity to take rare shots of North Koreans fighting with police. This was a patriotic riot, no doubt, driven by lofty and officially sanctioned emotions, but it nonetheless demonstrated that the foundations of social control were eroding.

  Around the same time, market riots in the countryside—admittedly, less patriotic in their intentions—began to occur as well. The outbreak of public discontent usually happens at the markets when vendors believe that their right to make money is being unfairly infringed by some decision of the authorities. For example, between 2006 and 2007, when the government unsuccessfully tried to restart the PDS, some markets were closed, and a considerable part of the local population was deprived of the major source of their livelihoods. This resulted in numerous protests, usually by middle-aged women. Reportedly, their cry was “give us rations or let us trade!”—not exactly a pro-democracy demonstration, but still a challenge to the established authority.

  The North Korean authorities have been remarkably—and unusually—lenient when dealing with these market riots. Taking into consideration the secretiveness of the North Korean legal system, one cannot rule out that some of the ringleaders in such incidents might have been secretly punished. But many of those who participated in the disturbances received only light punishment or escaped punishment completely.

  These signs of social relaxation should not be overestimated. The North Korean state still remains one of the most repressive regimes in the world. In spite of some cracks, its surveillance system is still second to none in efficiency and brutality. Nonetheless, changes are palpable. North Korea is drifting away from Kim Il Sung’s “nationalist Stalinism.” The drift is slow and might take years or even decades before it results in dramatic consequences. But it seems clear: the society Kim Il Sung built is slowly but inexorably crumbling and being replaced. As this happens, contradictions between the existing old political order and the emerging social order will lead to more rapid change, and—just as importantly—to the demand for more rapid change. Where these demands will end, we cannot as yet be sure.

  CHAPTER 3

  The Logic of Survival (Domestically)

  To an outside observer, the behavior of the North Korean leadership often appears irrational. It seems that there is a tested and easy way out of their predicament—but for some reason they refuse to see this way, let alone follow it. This allegedly “sure and tested�
� way is the path of Chinese-style reforms that, as many people believe, North Korean leaders will eventually follow as well. However, a closer look makes us skeptical about the alleged advantages of the “Chinese solution.” It might be good for the country, but it is too dangerous for the elite—and hence unlikely to be implemented any time soon.

  REFORM AS COLLECTIVE POLITICAL SUICIDE

  The history of East Asia after the Second World War was, above all, the history of spectacular economic growth. The world has not seen anything like this since probably the dramatic rise of Europe after the Industrial Revolution in the late 18th century. During the period between 1960 and 2000, the average per capita GDP growth in East Asia reached 4.6 percent, while the same indicator for the world was 2.8 percent.1 It is difficult to believe now that in 1960, in terms of per capita GDP, South Korea was slightly below Somalia, while Taiwan was lagging behind Senegal.2

  This remarkable economic growth was presided over (or even brought in) by regimes that were decisively illiberal and undemocratic. These regimes are often described as “developmental dictatorships”—largely because they combined authoritarian politics with an obsession for economic growth.

  The “developmental dictatorship” strategy was pioneered by the military regime in South Korea and by Taiwan (the latter between 1945 and 1988 was a one-party hereditary dictatorship, a bit like North Korea). These regimes combined anti-Communist rhetoric and some lip-service to the principles of the “free world” with a market-driven but government-controlled developmental strategy. Lacking natural resources, they emphasized cheap labor and economic efficiency, and they were successful beyond anybody’s wildest expectations.

  From the mid-1980s this “first generation” of the “developmental dictatorships” was emulated by the Communist regimes in mainland China and Vietnam. In both countries, the Communist Party elite kept the old slogans and quasi-Leninist decorum for the sake of domestic stability, but for all practical purposes switched to the developmental model pioneered by Taiwan and South Korea. If anything, their version of capitalism was even more unabashed and brutal—the quasi-Communist regimes treated labor with greater harshness and demonstrated a remarkable indifference to the yawning gap between the rich and poor. The model worked again, and the “second generation” of the “developmental dictatorships” also achieved spectacular results. Suffice it to say that Vietnam, which experienced a famine in the mid-1980s, by the mid-1990s became the world’s third-largest exporter of rice.3

  Thus, in China and Vietnam, the (technically) Communist oligarchy presided over an unprecedented economic growth while successfully maintaining domestic stability and enormously enriching themselves in the process. They can see themselves—with good reason—as benefactors and even saviors of their countries and also enjoy the power and comfort that was beyond the dreams of their mentors, who began their careers in the brutal and austere times of Mao and Ho Chi Minh.

  This option seems to be irresistibly attractive, but it has failed to inspire the North Korean elite. Over the last two decades, at every sign of changes in the North, a number of newspaper columnists and academic commentators alike assured their readers (and, perhaps, themselves) that the unavoidable has finally happened, and that the long-overdue reforms have started at last. Such enthusiastic commentaries greeted the Joint Enterprise Law of 1984, the launch of the Rajin-Sonbong Special Economic Zone in the early 1990s, and the so-called 7.1 measures of 2002. I recall an article from 2003, written by a professor of marketing from Indiana, entitled “North Korea Moving from Isolation to an Open Market Economy: Is It Time to Invest or to Continue Observing?” Predictably, the suggestion was to invest before it was too late (to give the author his due, however, he did include some cautious warnings).4

  Terence Roehrig, from the US Naval War College, expressing fairly typical sentiments of optimistic outsiders, said recently:

  To avoid the potential dangers of a sudden collapse in the DPRK, it may be a better route to promote a long-term, gradual transition that seeks to encourage the forces within North Korea and the ruling regime for change. Whether that regime is another member of the Kim family or a military/party collective of some sort, to further a process of economic opening and reform could lead to a subsequent path of political moderation and reform.5

  Roehrig might be right when he is saying this—cynically speaking, it makes sense to persuade the Pyongyang leaders that they would have a bright future in a reformed North Korea. However, they have not shown much inclination to be persuaded by this siren song, and some suspect that the reforms would become their shortcut to ruin and self-destruction. Regrettably, they are very likely correct in this assumption.

  Unfortunately for the common North Koreans, the Pyongyang leaders’ unwillingness to emulate China has very rational explanations. North Korean leaders stubbornly resist reform not because they are ideological zealots who blindly believe in the prescriptions of the Juche Idea (they do not, and the idea itself is too nebulous to be a guide to a practical policy anyway) nor because they are ignorant of the outside world. They are neither irrational nor ideological—on the contrary, they are rational to the extreme, being, perhaps, the most perfect bunch of Machiavellians currently in operation. The North Korean leaders do not want reforms because they realize that in the specific conditions produced by the division of their country, such reforms are potentially destabilizing and, if judged from the ruling elite’s point of view, constitute the surest way of political (and, perhaps, physical) suicide.

  The existence of rich and free South Korea is what makes North Korea’s situation so different from that of China or Vietnam. The regime lives next to a country whose people speak the same language and are officially described as “members of our nation,” but who enjoy a per capita income at least 15 times (some claim even 40 times) higher than that of the North Koreans.6 Even if the lowest estimate is believed, it is still by far the world’s largest per capita income difference between two countries that share a land border. To put things in perspective, the income ratio in divided Germany was merely 1:3, and even this was enough to prompt the East Germans to overthrow the regime as soon as they had an opportunity to do so without fear of Soviet retribution. If ordinary North Koreans become fully aware of the prosperity their brethren enjoy only a mere hundred miles or so away, the regime’s legitimacy would suffer a major blow and, quite likely, become untenable.

  One can only imagine the mind-blowing effect that might be produced by the sight of the average Seoul street, a typical South Korean department store, or, for that matter, the flat of a humble, semiskilled manual worker. Perhaps 15 years of flourishing market activities somehow have made North Koreans immune to the sights of consumerist abundance at shops (after all, one can buy a lot in North Korea now if/when money is available). But one can easily imagine what will happen to a North Korean’s mind when he or she discovers that a South Korean worker—supposedly a slave of American neocolonialism—enjoys the amenities and lifestyle that in North Korea are available only for a tiny minority, to people like successful drug smugglers or Central Committee officials.

  Reforms worked in Vietnam and China because their situation is different—simply put, Chinese reform succeeded because there is not a prosperous “South China” whose size would be comparable with that of the China of the Communist Party. The prosperity of, for example, Japan or the United States is well known in China, to be sure, but is not seen by the common Chinese as politically relevant—after all, those are different nations, with different histories, so their remarkable prosperity does not necessarily demonstrate the inefficiency of the Communist Party rule.

  And, of course, China is not going to join the United States, becoming its 51st state. Neither Vietnam nor China has a rich “other” with which to seek unification: Taiwan is too small to have a palpable impact on the average Chinese income in the event of unification, and South Vietnam ceased to exist in 1975. Thus, for the time being the common Chinese seemingly accept th
e same bargain accepted by the South Koreans or Taiwanese of the 1960s: they put up with authoritarian rule as long as they enjoy stability and economic growth. In North Korea, due to the allure of the rich and free South, such a bargain has very thin chances of success, and the Pyongyang leaders of Kim Jong Il’s generation were well aware of this.

  Reform is impossible without a considerable relaxation of the information blockade and daily surveillance. Foreign investment and technology are necessary preconditions for growth. Consequently, if Chinese-style reform were to be instigated, a large number of North Koreans would soon be exposed to dangerous knowledge of the outside world, and above all of South Korea. A considerable relaxation of surveillance would be unavoidable as well: efficient market reforms cannot occur in a country where a business trip to the capital city requires a weeks-long wait for travel permits and where promotion is determined not so much by labor efficiency but by demonstrated political loyalty (including the ability to memorize the lengthy speeches of the Dear Leader). Relaxation would entail information flowing within the country, and thus the dissemination of this information, as well as dangerous conclusions drawn from it, would become much easier. The situation is further aggravated by the recent dramatic improvement of the IT technologies, which make censorship even more difficult and therefore constitute a major political threat to the regime.

  It is doubtful whether the North Korean population would acquiesce to enduring a further decade of destitution followed by a couple of decades of relative poverty and backbreaking work if they were to learn about another Korea—affluent, free, glamorous, and attractive. Would they agree to tolerate a reforming but still authoritarian and repressive regime on the assumption that this regime will on some distant day deliver a prosperity comparable to that of present-day South Korea? The North Koreans, unfortunately for their leaders, are much more likely to react to the new knowledge and new freedom in a different way: by removing the current regime and unifying with South Korea in order to partake in the fabulous prosperity of the wildly rich South.