October Blues

North Korea - the most bizarre country in the world

North Korea - the most bizarre country in the world



North Korean People's Army soldiers marching at Kim Il-Sung Square in Pyongyang in a military parade to mark the 60th anniversary of the Workers' Party of Korea
North Korea has one of the world's largest armies

By Sue Lloyd-Roberts
BBC News, North Korea

Imagine a country where your mobile phone is taken from you at the airport with no explanation or apology, where there's no access to the internet, where your minders watch every move and you're reported if you try to leave your hotel alone.

A country which has not been at war for half a century but has one of the largest standing armies in the world and where people are expected to worship a president who died 16 years ago.

No, I am not describing Big Brother and the country of Airstrip One in George Orwell's 1984 - it's the Democratic People's Republic of Korea in 2010.
North Korea map

I went to the Soviet Union in the Brezhnev years and have filmed in Burma and Tibet, but I have never before been anywhere I have been so watched and controlled, or where everything is so stage-managed.

Potemkin villages sprang up wherever I went. I visited model farms, model villages, model factories and model schools, though, at the school, even my government minders looked faintly embarrassed when I asked a model pupil in an English language class who he admired most among modern world leaders and he answered: "Joseph Stalin and Mao Zedong."

But then, with its personality cults, dictators and marching Young Pioneers, North Korea is so 20th Century.

A confused old woman pushing a shopping trolley along the road, a factory worker wearing an old jacket at work, and random street vendors were, all hastily removed from in front of the camera, lest they tarnish the sanitised version of their country that officials wanted us to film.

My cameraman almost wept when a group of children playing spontaneously by the side of the road were abruptly shoved aside. "We want to see ordinary people," we begged, day after day.

But spontaneity is not allowed in North Korea.

Immortal president

What they allowed me to film proves that the Democratic People's Republic of Korea is truly the most bizarre country in the world

That evening we were taken to the theatre to watch a ballet devoted to the triumphant building of a hydroelectric dam. The next morning, we were removed to the safety of Pyongyang's model kindergarten.

As I approached each room in the vast, palatial building, children rushed out and grabbed my hand to take me to watch another carefully rehearsed performance.

Little girls smiling widely and dancing in perfect formation, little boys in smart red suits and painted faces singing praises to the country's Great Leader.

It started off faintly charming. But with mask-like faces and rigid grins, even children become rather sinister.

More children are employed to sweep the steps leading up to the 60ft bronze statue of the Great Leader, which dominates Pyongyang.

Kim Il-sung died 16 years ago but he's still the country's president.
Women sweep the steps in front of the Kim Il-sung statue
There are over 500 statues of Kim Il-sung in North Korea

"He's immortal," a 24-year-old-guide explained. "We don't believe he passed away."

When I tried to bring the conversation back to reality, to talk about the modern world, she revealed that she had not even heard of Nelson Mandela.

This lack of connection with the modern world is disconcerting, especially on the practical level.

State secrets

I had sent a "wish list" to Pyongyang via the North Korean embassy in London of the things I wanted to see and do while in the country.

I thought it might be polite to ask to film the country's football team which has, for the first time since 1966, qualified to play in the World Cup.

I was given the impression before I left that this, along with my other requests, had been agreed.

At my first meeting with my minders in Pyongyang, they put me straight. Not only was the football team out of bounds, but, they claimed, there was not a single football match taking place in the entire county during my nine-day stay.

Football is clearly a state secret.
North Korea's national football team
North Korea are playing in only their second World Cup finals

One morning we saw another couple sitting at breakfast, also wearing press arm bands. They looked utterly defeated.

It turned out that they were Brazilian football correspondents. They, too, had asked to come to the country to watch the football team and had flown from Rio to London to Pyongyang via Beijing to do so. "Going to a match today?" we'd ask cruelly every morning.

"No, we're going to the kindergarten," they replied forlornly one day. "No, we're going to the ballet," the next.

Despite the craziness, at least I have been able to make something of my stage-managed trip to North Korea - if only to illustrate, by what they allowed me to film - that the Democratic People's Republic of Korea is truly the most bizarre country in the world.

But one can only weep at the thought of the Brazilian football correspondents at the ballet.

A spy machine with eyes and ears everywhere

Foreigners must surrender mobile phones, other prohibitions abound

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By Petteri Tuohinen in Pyongyang
     
      The Stalinist espionage apparatus of Kim Jong-Il is believed to be even more efficient than the East German Stasi once was. Consequently, when asked, North Koreans will slavishly repeat the official truth of what their leaders have said.
      There is no other choice for anyone who wants to avoid being sent to a labour camp, or getting into other serious trouble.
     
Foreigners visiting the country are also under close scrutiny. Immediately after being welcomed, they are warned by local guides not to take cropped pictures of statues of the dictators. And newspapers with articles about the leaders must not be used for anything other than reading.
      At the airport, officials confiscate mobile telephones for the duration of the visit, and leaf through a passenger’s copy of the Economist to see if it contains anything sensitive.
      “Rules are rules”, explains a Pyongyang official when asked why the mobile phone was taken away. “It could become a security problem”, says another. However, in Pyongyang, mobile telephones in the hands of officials are getting to be an increasingly common sight.
     
Only the elite have access to the Internet. It is possible to send e-mail from the hotel, but only with special permission. Application forms for permission to send e-mail include a space for the intended destination country. A 20-KB e-mail costs EUR 2.30 to send.
      “I do not believe that the Internet will gain widespread use in North Korea. The reason for this is American and South Korean imperialism”, says one official. So what does the United States have to do with the citizens not being allowed Internet access?
      “It’s hard to explain”, the man says and makes it clear that there will be no further discussion of the topic.
     
The list of prohibitions imposed on foreigners is endless. Photography from inside a car is not allowed. People must not be photographed. Soldiers must not be photographed. The bans are enforced by officials who keep a close eye on foreigners. There is no shortage of watchful eyes: there are three officials chaperoning seven tourists.
      It soon becomes apparent that foreigners are not allowed to leave the hotel unescorted.
     
A British and an Irish visitor taking a morning stroll are quickly stopped by a crowd when they take pictures of street vendors. The men are driven back to their hotel by security officials.
      The North Koreans consider this a serious incident. A report is written, the memory cards of the cameras are confiscated, and the pictures must be deleted from their computers. The men are also required to write a humble letter of apology to North Korea.
     
“This is a serious setback to the positive development of relations between Britain and North Korea”, the director of the travel agency says, as he chastises the Irish man.
      The guide, a middle-aged North Korean man who is responsible for the group, breaks down in tears.
      People have been sent to labour camps for lesser infractions.

Silence: North Korea’s most chilling sound

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By Petteri Tuohinen
     
      The strangeness of North Korea becomes apparent already on the flight from Beijing to Pyongyang. Before the safety demonstration the passengers are shown a video praising the strength of socialism and the country’s dictator Kim Jong-il.
      A magazine is distributed among passengers praising an “asteroid pill” developed by North Korea.
      According to the magazine, the medicine contains ingredients from asteroids. It is said to promote growth in children, prevent cancer, and protect against the effects of radiation.
     
A visit to North Korea, the world’s most isolated country, has been a dream of mine for years. If I had been given a choice of visiting the moon, or North Korea, I would have bought a ticket to Pyongyang.
      Already at the airport in Pyongyang time seems to have stopped at a moment decades in the past. In addition to our aircraft, there are only old Soviet planes, and some helicopters on the edge of the airport.
      Immediately after getting off the plane, the tourists start taking pictures: of the plane, of the terminal building - of anything. They’ve never seen anything like it.
     
A North Korean who is returning home behaves differently. Before donning his jacket, he carefully removes a pin with a picture of the nation’s father, Kim Il-sung, from his shirt, and carefully places it on the lapel of his jacket.
      Every adult in North Korea wears such a pin. It is mandatory.
      It becomes apparent very soon that it is not possible to ask ordinary North Koreans things like whether or not they know that they are living in a bubble.
     
“Tour guides” follow visitors everywhere, translating questions and answers as they please.
      No profound points of view are forthcoming from the guides either. Questions about the country’s leaders bring answers of praise that have been learned by rote.
      “I was at school when I heard of the death of Kim Il-Sung. The sky fell down then. All Koreans wept. It was impossible to believe”, one of the guides said.
     
Often it happens that the guide gives no answer at all, simply remaining silent and looking in another direction. It is a chilling kind of silence.
      “Do you know what it is like in Seoul, the capital of South Korea?” I ask the guide.
      “Pyongyang is the capital of the Koreans. We are all happy here, and we have no need to go to Seoul”, the guide answers.
      “But do you know what it is like there?”
      “I don’t know. I have not seen any pictures.”
      “Wouldn’t you like to visit there?”
      Silence.
     
Thousands of other North Koreans have not been content with silence. Instead, they have hopped across the Chinese border to Freedom.
      The choice had to be a difficult one. The price of one’s own freedom is losing a family, possibly for ever.
      Families are punished for a family member’s disloyalty to the state. Work camps in North Korea are bleak.
     
Some of those in the North Korean elite are quite aware of what kind of a bubble the people are living in. One such person is a young Pyongyang woman who has lived in Yemen and Singapore because of her father’s work.
      “There was plenty of sand in Yemen. Singapore was better.”
      “Would you like to move to Singapore?”
      Silence.
     
Conversations with North Koreans often conclude in an absurd manner. During a visit to a model farm the guide was asked when their best crop was.
      “It was in 1998.”
      “And when was the worst crop year?”
      “We have not had a worst crop year.”
     
While having a beer one of the guides says that he knows about the Internet, and has even used it once.
      “Did you go on to Facebook?”
      “Yes, I looked for a textbook there.”
      “No, I mean Facebook.”
      “What’s that?”
     
Between places on the tour the tourists are taken to restaurants where no local people are to be seen, and hardly any tourists.
      The guides sit at their own table, away from the foreigners. At one restaurant, the guests are entertained by a unique selection of music. Blaring from the loudspeakers in turn are El Bimbo and Für Elise.
     
North Koreans live in a world where an attack by “the imperialist United States” is a daily threat, where the country’s dictator needs to be worshipped without question, and where the start of the dictatorship is spoken of as a “liberation”.
      The citizens have been taught that “The United States is a terrorist power”, and that each of the stars in the country’s flag symbolises a massacre conducted by the Americans in other countries.
      It is hardly surprising that South Korea has a centre dedicated to helping North Korean defectors adapt psychologically to life in the free world.
     
When coming from China to Finland on holiday, one enjoys things that would normally be self-evident facts of life: being able to access Facebook, reading newspapers that can freely criticise the government, and that politicians are chosen by the people.
      The same kind of relief is felt when returning from North Korea to China.
      Freedom is relative. There is more or less of it in various countries. In North Korea it does not exist at all.
     
Helsingin Sanomat / First published in print 3.10..2010