If ever you've watched the show Departures, where two young Canadians travel the world, their visit to North Korea is by far one of the most interesting episodes. Accompanied by two North Koreans (tourists are typically not allowed to travel alone), they're given the royal tour of the country's capital. From the locations they were allowed to film, it seems like a poor but quiet, livable country.
After reading Barbara Demick's book, Nothing to Envy: Ordinary Lives in North Korea, you'll understand that tourists, like the general population, are being fed a healthy dose of government propaganda. Venture any distance from the capital of Pyongyang and the tranquil façade fades into a deprived reality where there is no future – only a longing for the past.
North Korea is one of the true last bastions of dictatorial communism. Its isolation, economic malaise, and government brutality remains unparalleled in today's interconnected free-market world. Unless they've tampered with their government-issued TVs, North Koreans are utterly cut off from the outside world.
If ever there was a country that resembles George Orwell's 1984, this is it. One of North Korea's defectors, Jun-sang, took a liking to Orwell's book after he escaped, finding the parallels to his homeland extraordinary. Their Great Leader is Big Brother. He's always watching, whether it be through informants, police, or neighbours. But unlike the main character of 1984, who was beat into submission, Jun-sang realized he did not love Big Brother.
Jun-sang's path to enlightenment began as a student in 1994, when he found it difficult to publicly mourn the death of their Dear Leader, Kim Il-sung. Unlike others who wailed with real tears, Jun-sang had to keep his eyes open until they burned and began to water.
Then he got a TV. He tampered with the channels and established an antenna to watch South Korean TV at night. If caught, he would have ended up in prison. He turned the volume so low that he had to sit an inch from the fuzzy screen. When he got his first glimpse of the outside world, he couldn't believe his eyes. He wondered if this was capitalist propaganda or if it could actually be for real.
By the 1990s, South Korea was a full-fledged participant in the global economy. Its per capita income skyrocketed, rising up to 50 times that of its northern neighbour. North Korea's factories, by contrast, were shuttered after the collapse of the Soviet Union and its workers, where work existed, were no longer paid. North Korea lost 15% of its population in the late 1990s to starvation. By 2003, over 40% of North Korean children showed permanent signs of malnutrition, notably underdeveloped legs and heads too large for their stunted bodies.
The economic divergence of the two countries is a major reason why South Koreans are hesitant to reunify the two countries even if politically possible. It's something you say, reports Demick, but not something you actually want. The cost to South Korea would be tremendous.
Incorporating defectors into South Korean society is difficult enough. Typically, North Koreans are looked down upon as they have little training relevant to the modern economy and are worlds apart in their thinking – even their language is now different. Making personal decisions every day is antithetical to living in a dictatorial society, where government plans everything and the primary goal in life is to survive.
Surviving may involve spending afternoons picking grass or weeds for food. It could involve prostituting oneself to men in China. Or it might involve taking a bribe from someone who has relatives in neighbouring countries.
Even the most ardent supporters of the North Korean regime, like 57-year-old Mrs. Song, eventually realized she had been deceived by her government. Unlike most defectors, Mrs. Song was tricked by her own daughter into leaving; as a loyal citizen, she had no intention of leaving her homeland for good.
Only when she entered China did her views change. The first meal she was offered – beer, fruit and kimchi – was more food than she had ever seen outside of a wedding feast. Then she saw her first rice maker, a technological marvel that was an endless source of fascination for her. It even beeped when the rice was ready. This sparked the beginning of her unique conversion experience.
After living two years in South Korea, her conversion was complete. Demick writes that when Mrs. Song saw Kim Jong-il on TV, she shouted, "That rotten bastard!" To utter these words in North Korea would be an act of treason, potentially punishable by death. At one time, she would have been the first person to report a disloyal neighbour to the authorities.
But that was then, in a country where their Great Leader even controls one's thoughts. A country so near, yet worlds apart.
No comments:
Post a Comment