NORTH KOREA – BEYOND  THE CHARADE TO THE TRULY IMPRESSIVE

Once beyond the  endless showcasing and street theater charades, there are some things to be said about the more impressive aspects of North Korea (beyond its obvious political and agricultural and human rights shortcomings).  This is a nation that, despite its 80% mountainous topography, would undoubtedly be one of the world’s economic overachievers were it not for so much repression and lack of reward for individual production.  Too much of its resources go into the military and into patriotic show projects or honorariums to the Kims for this to occur.

Among those to be discussed are Rungnado May Day Stadium (the world’s largest), its related Arirang Festival, the Pyongyang Arch of Triumph, Mansudae Hill – scene of an entire phalanx of notable monuments, including the memorable Kimsusan Memorial Palace – the Juche Tower, Unification Arch, and North Korean side of the demilitarized zone (DMZ) which separates North and South Korea roughly at the 38^th Parallel.

Arch of Triumph -- Built in 1982 on Triumph Return Square in Pyongyang, the monument was built to glorify President Kim Il-sung’s unlikely single handed leadership role in guerilla resistance against the Japanese which led to Korean independence.  Like the Juche Tower, this combination of Asian and Roman styled victory arch was inaugurated on the occasion of his 70th birthday.

The structure is modeled after the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, but is 10 meters taller (the world’s tallest triumphal arch and continuation of a distinct North Korean practice, until it was supplanted by a competitor in Mexico). This arch has multiple interior rooms, balustrades, observation platforms and elevators. It also has four lofty vaulted gateways 27 meters high. Prominently inscribed in the arch are the years 1925 and 1945, when North Korea claims Kim set out to liberate the country from Japanese rule and later achieved this end.

An inscription on the monument reveals the purpose of the Arch of Triumph quite well:

“The stone monument was unveiled in April of Juche 71 (1982) in reflection of the deep desire of thewhole Korean people to convey to the posterity the revolutionary feats of President Kim Il-sung, who had successfully achieved the historic cause of the liberation of the country and returned to Pyongyang in triumph.  The Arch of Triumph encourages the Korean people to the efforts to shine the immortal exploits of the President in the liberation of the country through generations and build at an early date a great, prosperous and powerful nation of Juche …”

Rungnado May Day Stadium in Pyongyang is a 150,000 spectator multi-purpose stadium, making it the largest stadium by seating capacity and the 12^th largest sporting venue in the world. This truly impressive construct was completed on May 1, 1989. It is currently used for soccer matches, a few athletics matches, but most often for Arirang Festival performances, a huge spectacle of gymnastics, art and patriotic fervor honoring Kim Il-sung and the Korean nation. 

The stadium name comes from its moorings on Rungrado Islet in the Taedong River, and May Day (international Labor Day). Its scalloped clam shell roof features 16 arches arranged in a huge ring which tops out at more than 60 meters above ground. The stadium occupies over 207,000 square meters of floor space spread over eight levels.  Since everything else of note in North Korea is named after the “Great Leader” this venue is often confused with the nearby but much smaller 50,000 seat Kim Il-sung Stadium.

The stadium is not always the scene of theatrical national passions and mesmerizing synchronization.  A commercial event called Collision in Korea, the largest wrestling event ever, took place there in April of 1995 and had a record wrestling attendance of 190,000 on the final day.  Later in that decade, a number of North Korean army generals implicated in an assassination attempt on Kim Jong-Il were reportedly executed by incineration with flamethrowers in the stadium before a large captive audience.

The Arirang Festival (often referred to as the “Mass Games” or Patriotic Games) started in June of 2002.  It is held in Rungnado Stadium. The meticulously choreographed extravaganza of dancers, gymnasts and card flashing children (many of whom participate up to retirement age) began with 30,000 participants and grew eventually to over 100,000.  It was recently opened to foreigners. These games have become an annual feature in Pyongyang -- usually in August and September (though not in 2014). The Guinness Book of Records has recognized this event as the largest mass performance spectacle in the world.

Mansudae Grand Monument is a very impressive complex of memorials on Mansu Hill in Pyongyang dedicated once again to Kim Il-sung and Kim Jong-il and the notion of Socialist Revolutionary Progress.  The focal point of the monument is centered about two massive 22 meter bronze statues of the Kims.  Flanking the statues are two 50 meter long bronze and concrete arcades showing a procession of soldiers, workers, farmers, and teachers averaging 5 meters high each.  Each is posed in an anti-Japanese quest or demonstrating a Socialist Revolutionary spirit.

The colossal and grimly determined Soviet style statues were cast by Mansudae Projects, North Korea's government-run propaganda art factory.  The studio employs around 4,000 North Koreans at its Pyongyang headquarters. These artists produce detailed propaganda works, such as idyllic portraits of healthy farm workers, paintings of North Korea's glorious mountains, and numerous works in bronze.  All public images of Kim Jong-un, Kim Jong-il, and Kim Il-sung are the work of these artists.

The most impressive part of the Hill beyond the statues is Kimsusan Palace of The Sun, the final resting place of both Kims.  This marvelous marble clad mausoleum makes the memorials of such luminaries as Mao Zedong and Napolean and Joseph Stalin look like chicken coops.  The stately memorial was the former residence and office of “Great Leader” Kim Jong-il prior to his death in 1994.

There are no cameras allowed in the mausoleum – upon entering the building you are required to empty your pockets and give up all outer clothing and electronic equipment, including cameras.  A pat-down security check follows.  Then a long walk along a motorized conveyor of nearly half a kilometer provides unhurried viewing of the two Kims in various heroic stances, or collegial poses with other world leaders.

After what seems like an eternity viewing the Kims, more statues of the father and son pair await visitors in the palace entrance hall.  Here is the first set of required bows to the two leaders.  Moving up a floor, a large wind tunnel blows off any dust that may have accumulated between visitors and the street.  Eventually you reach the somber and dimly lit Memorial Hall, where the two leaders lie in state in a crystal sarcophagus in separate viewing rooms.  Each is eternally preserved through embalming and the type of wax preservation perfected by the Soviets for Stalin and Lenin. 

A set of three separate bows are required here – something you are not really told about much in advance.  Considering what we know of the Kims, this may be difficult to do for some westerners.  I am prepped somewhat in advance.   “You don’t have to consider it homage to the Kims,” my Koryo hosts and my Korean guides tell me.  “Look at it as respect for Korean customs, respect for the Korean people, and respect for this beautiful hall.”  I bow imperceptibly, gritting my teeth all the while, but desirous nevertheless of not drawing attention from the fully armed and very stone-faced guards standing nearby.

Perhaps the most insidious part of the required bowing is the fact you are filmed.  You know these films are then shown to DPRK citizens, and elsewhere throughout the world to the gullible.  The message is clear: “We have no regime problem.  We have no respect problem.  See these westerners engage their grief, and offer their respects?  How could you possibly accuse us of human rights violations when we are so well thought of.”

Outside is another wind tunnel for dust removal. Then on to the Hall of Lamentations.  Here demonstrations of grief sought from all over the world, are displayed for the benefit of visitors.  Another attempt once again, to trumpet alleged universal acceptance of this regime.  A woman at the entrance to the hall, chants passionately at first and then goes into peals of wailing about Kim’s magical effect on the transformation of the nation through his generosity and wisdom.  She cuts off suddenly completely dry-eyed, and resumes hysterically on cue 15 seconds later when another group appears.

Visits to the Memorial are required of all 24 million North Korean citizens, generally each five years (they are bused in en masse, even from distant villages).  I am struck by the genuine emotion (not all of it the impressionistic power of brainwashing and propaganda or from professional prompting) of citizens when viewing the two leaders, including children who were not even alive at the times of their deaths.

Our guides direct us next into a series of large rooms called “The Cabinet.”  Housed within are all the medals and honors and mementos that were presented to the Kims, both during their lifetimes and posthumously. These come from the DPRK and portions of the rest of the world – notably the formers members of the Soviet Union and tinhorn dictators in South America and Africa (the single honorarium from the US belongs to Kensington University, a paper diploma mill that was shut down by court order in 2003).  Notably absent are honorariums from western nations and democracies.

The final three rooms offer serious displays of the two Kims transport means.  That includes the train carriage for each (both were afraid to fly, and particularly Kim Jong-il).  It also includes electronically lit dot maps of their travels, their Mercedes limousines, a golf cart, personal effects such as Kim Jong-il’s oddly touted clothing collection, and his private yacht Chongsong.

The Chollima Statue, also located on Mansu Hill, is typical of the revolutionary/heroic style of the Mansudae Projects casting specialists.  This huge magnificent winged horse is said to represent the spirits of constant innovation and advancement which were especially emphasized in the reconstruction of Pyongyang.  This occurred after its near total destruction in 1950, following counterattacks by US and South Korean forces that briefly captured North Korea.

The Tower of The Juche Idea was opened on April 15, 1982 (Juche 70) and again to commemorate the birthday of President for Life Kil Il-sung … “so that his revolutionary exploits would be remembered for all ages.”  It measures 170 meters in total height.  The summit is topped with a 20 meter bright red metallic lit torch weighing 45 tons. The tower is a four-sided tapering spire containing 25,550 blocks -- one for each day of Kim Il-Sung's life.  It can be ascended by elevator, where visitors are treated to a 360 degree viewing platform just below the torch with sweeping views over all of Pyongyang.

The Juche idea is quoted as “the masters of the revolution and construction are the masses of the people and that they are also the motive force of the revolution and construction.  In other words, one is responsible for one’s own destiny and one also has  the capacity to shape one’s own destiny.  The Juche idea is the guiding idea of the Korean revolution evolved by President Kim Il-sung.  The Workers’ Party of Korea and the Government of the Republic head the revolution and construction, guided by the Juche idea.”  [ Frankly, I’d like to do street intverviews with locals about their confidence in being “masters of their own destiny” ].

At the tower’s base, there are reception rooms with videos explaining the tower's ideological importance. Overall design is assumed to be modeled after the Washington Monument (which it exceeds in height by less than a meter).  Perhaps focused only on the DPRK practice of one-upsmanship on a national level, designers apparently forgot the 173 meter San Jacinto Monument, dedicated to the “Heroes of the Battle of San Jacinto and all others who contributed to the independence of Texas."

Associated with the Juche tower is an amazing in its own right 30-meter statue consisting of three idealized figures each thrusting skyward typical symbolic tools of North Korean ideological lore – a hammer (the worker); a sickle (the peasant); and a writing brush (the working intellectual). There are in addition six “smaller” groups of figures, each 10 meters high that symbolize other aspects of Juche ideology -- Juche Industry, Bumper Harvest, The Land of Learning, Juche Art, Longevity, and Impregnable Fortress.

The North Korean Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) begins with a 2.5 hour trip south from Pyongyang along the optimistically named Reunification Highway.  A brief stop is arranged at the Reunification Arch, built in 2001 (known also as the Monument to the Three Point Charter For Reunification, named after a manifesto orated by Kim Sung-il in June of 1973 to end the partition of Korea into north and south).  The arch depicts two women clad in traditional Korean dress leaning toward each other, holding a globe with a map of a united Korea.  Under the DPRK vision this revamped nation would be called the “Democratic Federal Republic of Koryo.”

Kim’s three principals for reunification included the absence of outside interference in the reunification process, a peaceful transition, and fostering of national unity by transcending differences in ideas, ideal, and systems.  All quite reasonable on its face … until you get down to the sting of the details.  Kim never did explain how he would inspire South Koreans to give up their much higher standard of living, their personal freedoms, and the lack of want and fear in their lives in exchange for being able to see long-lost relatives on occasion.

Quite noticeable on the journey south is the absence of traffic.  I counted a grand total of seven cars along Reunification Highway on the way to Kaesong -- capital of a united Korea from 918 to 1392 and now an industrial city.  Most obvious was the complete absence of mechanization along the route.  Ill equipped, poorly clad workers in the fields labored completely by hand, occasionally supported by a beast of burden.  A diplomat friend traveling by train to China verified the same is true on the north end of the DPRK: grimy thin workers, most of them walking, and utilizing only hand tools.  Many children were also observed laboring in the fields.

Kaesong itself is notable for two things: a special status manufacturing complex where South Korean factories employ North Korean workers, whose day-to-day status can easily be determined by the weathervane of political cooperation between the two sides.  The other is the “show village” of Kijong-dong (detailed in my posts about South Korea).  Simply put, this is – like the Ryugyong Hotel, a village of show residences which are meant to convey to South Koreans that the north is equally well off economically, yet when examined closely proves to be yet another hollow shell bereft of occupants or life.

So, with my earlier posts providing much of the detail on the DMZ and its history, I will simply contrast what I found on the DPRK side with what was experienced in South Korea.  Amazingly, I found North Korea more accessible (one has to be screened three days in advance in South Korea to have access to the Peace Village of Panmunjeom).  It is clear that the DPRK is not at all worried about spooking South Koreans.  The South meanwhile, will not even allow flash photography at viewing terraces overlooking the DMZ for fear the north will take it for sniper activity and return fire.

The two nation’s strips of the 4 kilometer wide DMZ separate their visitors by days and blocks of time.  We were not able to overlap with visitors coming from the south.  That way North and South Korean citizens will not cross paths, and there will be no easy means of spycraft or information exchange taking place.  Our Koryo group visit to the Panmungak Hall, Armistice Building, and Military Commission Meeting Rooms within the northern portion of the strip were absent South Korean guards and personnel.

Unlike visiting South Korea’s portion of the strip, in North Korea our group was able to wander somewhat freely.  We were of course always within the purview of North Korean guards.  But there was no concern about offending South Korea.  The guards were much friendlier than expected.  There was the usual jingoism when reviewing a DMZ map about the imperialist and warlike nature of the United States – and how the US kept Korea from uniting -- but by this time the material was old and mainly induced yawns and quiet smiles.

We first rode in from Kaesong to the guard station and map room. Our passports are checked with great scrutiny.  Here the layout and borders of the DMZ and the buildings we will soon visit in Panmunjeom are explained.  We are not told about the four discovered tunnels witnessed to the south and built by the DPRK (of 17 suspected to exist) to bypass heavily mined or fortified ground areas above for the purpose of attacking South Korea by stealth.

We continue to Panmunjeom on raised roads passing through man made swamps (intended to keep potential massed armored attacks at bay).  Clever road barriers in the shape of huge concrete cylinders large enough to stop a tank were placed at many points above the roads, capable of being unleashed at any moment by gravity feed to block virtually all traffic.  Checkpoints and double rows of barbed wire also line the landscape.

Within full view to the west just outside the show village of Kijong-dong was what used to be the world’s largest flagpole at 160 meters.  This is really more of a tower though, so that Guinness now classifies world record flags as “unsupported poles.” This radio tower turned flagpole was meant to surpass South Korea’s nearby display of its flag, but is now only fourth largest in the world after poles in Saudi Arabia and Tajikstan and Azerbaijan.

We are shown the Joint Service Area (an 800 square meter military administrative reserve) Conference Rooms.  Here blue Quonset hut type buildings maintained by both sides are divided evenly down the middle by the Military Division Line (MDL).  This is the spot where the cessation of hostilities armistice was signed in 1953.  It is a thrill to set at that same green felt covered table where negotiations took place 64 years prior, and be able to circle the table and walk around to the south side without any intervention.  As noted previously, no South Korean guards or representatives are allowed during our time.

Military Commission meetings to discuss the 750+ acts of overt violence which have taken place inside the small JSA area (in addition to countless other DMZ wide ceasefire violations) since 1953 used to take place here.  But the meetings ended in March of 1991, after the US led United Nations Command (UNC) appointed a South Korean general as their commander.  North Korea refused to accept this and departed the table, since South Korea ironically had never been a signator to the original Armistice Agreement.

Just behind the blue conference buildings are pavilions constructed by the opposing sides.  Whatever is built by South Korea is matched by North Korea in a habitual “bigger and better” show of one upsmanship.  Hence the House of Freedom to the south, is mirrored by the Panmungak Hall in the north.  Here we get direct access to large photos of the war, maps, photos of key leaders and peace negotiators, a great territorial view, and the North Korean copy (under plexiglas) of the Armistice Agreement of July 27^th, 1953.

Returning from the DMZ, we are treated to a scrumptious 12-course meal of potatoes, cabbage, dumplings, pork, fish, tofu, cucumber, kimchi, ginseng, chicken, dog soup (yes, dog soup), rice, tea, and rice wine.  The portions – served in gold lidded painted ceramic bowls – are both plentiful and succulent.  We observe the slender waitresses surrounding us and note their occasional looks of longing, as ironically described earlier by my fellow writer Anjaly Thomas.  I particularly fall in love with the kimchi, which is otherworldly tasty and addictive.

The finale for our North Korea venture ends in an afternoon foray in to a public beer hall, one of our few chances to press the flesh with locals without encountering a scripted play of pre-selected actors pretending to be average Joes in spontaneous encounters.  This huge hall reminded me of Octoberfest in Bavaria.  Double decked carts of beer are wheeled continuously about by pretty attendants.  Six different brews are available.

No attempt is made to separate locals from visitors.  I do my very best to chat up some stained t-shirt factory locals for small talk, but the only common language is “thumbs up” and a “high five.”  Those encountered nevertheless break into huge smiles at my attempt.  We toast each other a few times with some giddiness.  I learn eventually their beer is subsidized by the government, they are entitled to roughly ten pints a week, and the cost to them is approximately 3 cents per pint.

Our group farewell dinner consists of delicious barbecued duck and imperialist, war mongering sized portions of liquor.  Endless toasts and reminiscing about the combined beauty and oddity of what we have seen over the previous four days is our preferred expression of “Single Hearted Unity.”  In between drinks, some of us reflect on what makes North Korea so odd.

For myself, I recalled there were no gas stations.  No individual homes in sight – only large, relatively ugly Soviet style concrete apartment blocks.  I did not see any pregnant women.  There were numerous impressive monuments, paid for by tens of thousands of starving people.  The military was hefty and disproportionate to population … but at what cost?  The “show locations” or performances were so transparent as to not be worthy of a seventh grade theater production.  The food was consistently fabulous (if it was only available to the locals).  The North Koreans in Pyongyang at least, were better dressed than expected.  There is no litter to be found, anywhere.

But the predominate sense is an obvious air of repression.  There is a glumness manifest everywhere, even in moments between the “make happy” performances.  Nobody is smiling, unless in the presence of a high level government or military leader.  Still, you can tell the locals want to engage.  They want to be part of the fabric of life.  They too want to know what a young man I befriended in Cuba who remains a contact asked me: “What is really going on in the world.”

You can see it in their eyes.  These folk are the same as everybody else on the planet.  They are warm inside. They want to express themselves.  They want to engage.  They want to dream.  They want to create. They want to be free.  They just have no idea who is looking over their shoulder, or what utterance today might be punishable at a later date.  You get warmth and feedback, but only to a point – then the nervous side glances begin which impart: “Who is watching?  How will this be interpreted?”

It reminds me of an account I read by a western writer who had snuck out in the middle of the night to report on the realities of the massive hollow shelled Ryugyong Hotel.  Upon returning to his room at the usual foreign lodgings in “Alcatraz” (the Yanggakdo Hotel) he was observed by a number of locals and soldiers – all of whom would have known he was not supposed to be out unattended.  They all looked the other way.

Better to “know nothing” as the affable Sergeant Schulz used to say on the seventies TV series Hogan’s Heroes, than to invite trouble.  One can easily imagine endless questions from security personnel about:  How and why did you see this man?  What is your previous connection with him? What did he say to you? Who else did he talk with? and similar in-depth probing to discomfiting lengths one can expect in a fear based totalitarian society.