IN THE LATE 1970S AND 1980S North Korean students could occasionally be seen on the streets of my native Leningrad. It was never difficult to tell them from, say, Chinese or Vietnamese students. The Kim Il Sung badge was the telltale sign, even if a majority of Russians were sure that those strange Asians were Chinese (the guy on the badge must be Mao, who else?).
However, even in the crazy days of Mao’s mad cult, the Chinese were not required to wear the Great Helmsman’s badges. Once again, North Korea was exceptional in its zeal for the personality cult—perhaps because Kim stayed in power far longer than Mao or Stalin, and also because he controlled a much smaller country.
At any rate, the Kim Il Sung badge tradition is unique. It was introduced in the 1970s, when the cult of the Great Leader reached its height. In 1972 North Korea was staging a pompous celebration of Kim Il Sung’s sixtieth birthday. Around that time, one of the top officials came up with a bright idea: he suggested the introduction of badges with Kim’s portrait on them, and made them obligatory for everyone. From November 1970, the mass production of these badges began, and by the great day, April 15, 1972, every adult North Korean was proudly displaying the likeness of Kim Il Sung on his or her chest.
The badge is handed to its bearer when he or she turns 12, to be placed above their Children’s Union badge. From that age, North Koreans are required to wear the Kim Il Sung badge whenever they leave home (fortunately, in the privacy of one’s own home it is not considered necessary—Kim Il Sung’s portrait hangs in every room, and this suffices). If a person dares to venture out without the obligatory badge, the transgression is discussed at the next mutual criticism session—not really a pleasant option as criticism sessions can be quite an unpleasant affair, even now in the generally relaxed atmosphere of the early 2000s.
The Kim Il Sung badges should be worn always, everywhere, by everybody. Photograph by Christopher Morris.
Badges come in a number of shapes, there being some twenty different types. Each type speaks volumes about its bearer. The most precious and rare type depicts Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il against the background of a large red banner. This is the only badge which has images of both the Dear and Great leaders, and it is extremely rare. These badges are assigned to top-level party functionaries, and the very sight of someone wearing such a badge can send many a minor North Korean bureaucrat into a stupor. Another type of badge which depicts Kim Jong Il (alone, without his father) is worn by the cadres in the security system. With the exception of these two badges, both quite rare, all others sport Kim Il Sung alone.
There are different types for military personnel, for Saroch’ŏng (Party Youth) members, and so on. For example, lower-level party cadres sport the so-called “large round badge,” while lesser beings, North Korean commoners, are only eligible to wear the “small round badges.”
Of course, relying solely on a badge to identify the position of the wearer could be fraught with difficulty, since a typical North Korean might have a number of different badges. A top bureaucrat today may once have been first a student, then a soldier, and so on. Nonetheless, in many cases the badges can be seen as an insignia of a sort which can demonstrate the social status of the bearer to everyone who is knowledgeable enough (as most North Koreans are).
The badges are designed and produced by the Mansudae creative group. This is a unique institution whose sole task is to manufacture the likenesses of Kim Il Sung, Kim Jong Il, and their family members.
Many foreigners who do not comprehend the near mystic importance attached to the badge by the North Korean official ideology, try to purchase the badge from their North Korean acquaintances. Naturally such outrageous proposals are usually rejected. After all, the badge is a symbol of loyalty, an icon in its own right. Even if, in the depth of their hearts, North Koreans do not worship the Leader as a deity, they are not supposed to let on to foreigners—this would be far too risky! What is more, the loss of the badge is seen as an almost criminal act, an act which could inflict serious damage on the culprit’s career opportunities.
This does not mean, however, that the badges cannot be bought and sold—they occasionally appear on the international collectors’ market, obviously smuggled via China or some other tortuous route. There were rumors that some Chinese workshops even began to produce imitations, targeting the foreign visitors of the borderland areas.
In recent days, with the de facto victory of the market economy, the badges can be purchased within North Korea as well. As one can easily guess, the “party banner badges” with portraits of Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il are by far the most expensive. In the early 2000s such a badge could command at least 5,000 won or $25–$30 at the then exchange rate—in other words, between six and twelve monthly salaries. Some other “special” badges can be sold at a high price, too. But this is understandable; a person with such a badge will be treated with the utmost deference by his or her fellow countrymen! The “better” types of badges recently became the target of petty thieves whose numbers grossly increased during the famine of 1996–1999.
Some younger North Koreans use the badges as a fashion statement. I remember that in the 1980s it was fashionable among Korean youth to clip the badge to the very edge of their dress. And we know from the tales of defectors that the badges are frequently an integral part of the latest fashion craze.
With the advent of famine and the gradual decline of the government’s ability to control the population, a small but increasing number of Koreans have begun to venture outside without their badges or, at least, without displaying their badges prominently. This relaxed attitude was finally confirmed in 2004 when some sources reported that North Koreans were now allowed not to wear badges. But it seems that most still prefer to cling to the old routine. It’s safer: who knows what will happen in the future, after all? So it does not hurt to continue to display one’s unbending loyalty and affection.
Sooner or later, the badges will indeed become a collectors’ item, but hardly an expensive one (the few special types being the exception). Too many of them have been produced....
*****
IN JULY 1997, THE FIVE MOST important government agencies of North Korea—including the Central Committee and Cabinet of Ministers—published a joint declaration which informed North Korea and the entire world that the country was introducing a new calendar. The year 1912 became the First Year of Juche. The reason? This was the year when Kim Il Sung was born.
The decision allowed the occasional use of Christian era years, but this four-digit number had to accompany the new official date only if it was deemed necessary. Thus 2005 A.D. is the Year 94 of the Juche Era. In other words, Kim Il Sung’s birthday replaced that of Christ in the official North Korean calendar. Indeed, this is how the dates are written now in North Korean publications, although in everyday discourse people still use Western (or Christian) era dates.
The world has seen other attempts to break with old calendar traditions. In France of the 1790s, the revolutionaries began to count years from the proclamation of the French Republic. In South Korea of the 1950s, the government tried to implement the so-called Tangun Era. None of these attempts succeeded for more than a few decades—and there are few doubts that the same fate awaits the Juche Era.
However, the decision to introduce the Juche Era was just one of several manifestations of Kim Il Sung’s posthumous “personality cult.” Indeed, the memory of North Korea’s founding father is treated in Pyongyang with utmost respect. Perhaps this is what he intended when he appointed his elder son as the heir designate. One of the reasons behind the unusual decision to introduce a Communist monarchy might have been Kim Senior’s fear that the next generation of leaders would treat his memory in the same way as the memory of Stalin was treated in the Soviet Union in the 1960s. Being his son, Kim Jong Il has a vested interest in upholding his father’s image—and this is what he is actually doing with the greatest enthusiasm.
First of all, Kim Il Sung is to remain the country’s only president, under the title of Chusŏk (“chairman,” first introduced in 1972). After his death, the President’s office was left vacant—and is meant to remain vacant forever. Kim Jong Il runs the country not as President, but merely as the “Chairman of the National Defense Committee.”
Of course, portraits of Kim Il Sung are everywhere, albeit often accompanied by the images of Kim Jong Il and his mother Kim Jong Suk. From the late 1960s, the North Korean bureaucracy has developed intricate rules which determine where and how Kim Il Sung’s likeness has to be displayed. I’ll tell about these rules later. For now it is sufficient to say that every living room, every office, and the entrance to every official building as well as every railway carriage has been adorned with the portrait of the Leader from the 1970s. After 1980, it was complemented by the portrait of his son as well.
Yǒngsaengt’ap or “Tower of eternal life” in Pyongyang. It states that “Kim Il Sung will live with us forever.” Photograph by Andrei Lankov.
An important part of Kim Il Sung’s posthumous glorification are the numerous Yǒngsaengt’ap, or “Towers of Eternal Life.” Their name reflects the official slogan: “Kim Il Sung will live with us forever!” (Obviously, there is an influence from one of the most popular Soviet-era slogans in Russia, which said: “Lenin lived, Lenin lives, Lenin will live with us!”) These towers have a shape slightly reminiscent of Ancient Egypt’s obelisks and they are decorated with this slogan about Kim’s alleged “eternal presence” in his realm.
As of 1997, there were 3,150 Towers of Eternal Life nationwide. Such towers were to be erected in every city, every province, every county and every shire, so there must be some 5,000 of them by now. The towers are normally placed on the crossroads in the most central locations. The structures are usually relatively cheap and easy to build, but some of them are quite expensive. The largest of all towers is, of course, located in Pyongyang. It has a height of 92.5 meters—just a bit lower than the Juche Tower, one of the city’s major architectural monuments.
The Towers of Eternal Life are objects of regular and well-organized pilgrimage. They are to be visited on official holidays and on the anniversary of the Great Leader’s death, to serve as a place of vows of loyalty to the regime and its founder.
Kim Il Sung’s body has been embalmed and left on public display in a special glass-covered coffin. Actually, in this regard, Korea follows an established—if bizarre—Communist tradition. Like many other Communist traditions, this one originated from the USSR.
In 1924, the body of Vladimir Lenin, the founding father of the Soviet Union, was laid in a specially constructed mausoleum where it was kept in a glass-covered coffin. This mausoleum became a place of mass pilgrimage. Initially most visitors may have been driven by sincere devotion, but in later decades the major impulse bringing visitors was, more likely than not, just bizarre curiosity. Nonetheless, passions sometimes ran high. In the Soviet times, there were two known attempts to damage Lenin’s mummy in an act of symbolic resistance against the regime. On the other hand, the post–Communist Russian government has not dared to close the mausoleum, being aware that such an act is certain to spark large-scale protests and riots of the Russian Left.
In the Soviet times, a special and highly secretive research institute with a generous budget was responsible for the maintenance of Lenin’s body. Over the decades, its research staff gained unique expertise. In due time this expertise was in demand for new generations of the venerable dead.
In 1949, the Bulgarian Communist leader Dmitrov became the first person to be embalmed by the personnel of Lenin’s mausoleum. After Stalin’s death in 1953 the body of the Soviet dictator was also treated with this proven technique and put alongside Lenin’s mummy. However, in 1961 Stalin’s corpse was hastily removed from the mausoleum, to be buried below the Kremlin wall.
Meanwhile, Soviet experts were sent to take care of a number of politically important corpses across the world. They embalmed the bodies of a number of other Communist rulers: Choibalsan of Mongolia, Gottwald of Czechoslovakia, Ho Chi Minh of Vietnam, Netto of Angola (Mao’s body was treated by the Chinese themselves).
Thus, when in 1994 Kim Il Sung died, few people doubted that his body would be put on display as well. The Russians confirmed that they had taken part in treating Kim Il Sung’s body. According to unconfirmed reports a group of Russian biologists and chemists worked in Pyongyang for almost a year.
In the 1950s and 1960s Moscow did not charge its clients and allies for treating the bodies of their deceased rulers. But this is not the case any more. After the collapse of the Communist system in Russia, the research center has had to survive on a very tight budget, and it is not willing to provide its unique know-how for free. Incidentally, these laboratories’ major income source is now the bodies of Mafia bosses or new Russian capitalists (it was not really easy to distinguish between the former and the latter in the Russia of the 1990s).
The fees for treating the earthly remains of the Great Leader, the Sun of the Nation, were never disclosed, but the Russians reportedly charged North Korea one million dollars. Frankly, this was a steal: Kim Il Sung died at the time when the former USSR was in the middle of its severest crisis, and ex–Soviet scientists were ready to accept meager rewards for their work. Nonetheless, this deal was made at the time when North Korea was on the eve of the worst famine in Korea’s history. The final result of the scientists’ efforts was the mummy of Kim Il Sung which, incidentally, cannot be referred to as a “mummy” but only “the eternal image of the Great Leader.”
However, the million-dollar fee is only a fraction of the ongoing cost of keeping Kim Il Sung’s body well preserved. A few years ago a high-level North Korean bureaucrat mentioned to visiting Indonesians that North Korea paid about 800,000 dollars annually for these expenses. On might surmise that at least a part of this money goes to the budget of the same Soviet research centre which once did the embalming.
In one respect the North Koreans did not emulate other Communist countries. The bodies of Lenin, Mao, and Ho Chi Minh were laid in mausoleums specially constructed for that purpose. The North Koreans did not erect a new structure but renovated a pre-existing building, the Kǔmsusan Palace. This large structure was erected on the outskirts of Pyongyang in the mid–1970s. In subsequent decades it served as the residence and office of Kim Il Sung. Now this building’s huge central hall became the Great Leader’s resting place.
Unlike the USSR, where visits to Lenin’s tomb are essentially voluntary acts, the North Koreans are picked by their party secretaries to visit the Kǔmsusan Palace. Most of them, admittedly, do not mind going—partially out of curiosity and partially out of sincere reverence to the deceased strongman.
For the past few years, crowds of North Koreans have passed by the body of the Great Leader who, for better or worse, ran their country for almost half a century. The visitors are required to stop for a while and bow to the glass-covered coffin containing the embalmed body. The dim lights and quiet music emphasize the quasi-religious nature of the entire scene. The visitors pay their tribute to a person who once started the worst war in Korean history, killed at least a quarter of a million people in prisons and ran what even in the Communist world was seen as an exceptionally repressive state.
Indeed, many (I would say, most) North Koreans more or less believed in what the official propaganda told them about the Great Man. All Koreans younger than 70 have spent their entire life listening to stories about Kim Il Sung’s greatness. He is supposed to be the person who defeated the Japanese in 1945, then repelled U.S. aggression in 1950 and, by keeping the cunning imperialists at bay for decades, saved North Koreans from the sorry fate of their enslaved Southern brethren. Of course, outside the North it is common knowledge that Kim Il Sung did not fire a single shot during the liberation of Korea, that the Korean war was started by him and nearly lost due to his miscalculations, that South Korea had one of the fastest growing economies of the 20th century while the North became an international basket case. But these things remain largely or completely unknown inside the North, where many people still believe in the deceased Great Fatherly Leader.
The downward spiral which the country’s economy entered soon after Kim Il Sung’s death has also helped to boost the posthumous standing of the Great Leader. After all, rations were coming when he was alive, and everybody enjoyed his or her 600 or 700g of rice a day. This might not sound luxurious to us, but few North Koreans knew any other life. What they know is that after 1994 things changed for the worse, and this is probably seen as a good reason to pay tribute to the dead Leader.
*****
IMAGINE YOURSELF CLIMBING A scenic mountain somewhere in North Korea. You are surrounded by the breathtaking magnificence of peaks covered with white clouds and the lush greenness of mountain forests. And then you notice that one of the peaks is adorned with huge scarlet characters which are clearly visible from miles away. The inscription reads: “Long live the Great Leader” or “Hasten to battle!” or “Long live the Korean Workers’ Party” or some other equally poetic statement!
The stones carved with odes to commemorate the “three great generals of the Paektu mountain”—Kim Il Sung, Kim Jong Il and Kim Jong-suk (Kim Jong Il’s mother). Photograph by Andrei Lankov.
Indeed, even the picturesque Korean mountains are not spared from being used as a propaganda medium. Slogans are carved out in huge letters in the most beautiful parts of the Korean mountains. There is perhaps no peak left in the Kŭmgangsan and Myohyangsan gorges which does not sport such a stimulating inscription as “Let’s transform ideology, technology and culture according to Juche!”
The North Korean authorities have developed a sophisticated technology to further beautify the country’s famous scenery. The slogans are not simply painted on the slopes. They are actually first carved deep into the rocks by teams of stonemasons. These stonemasons are selected from among model workers, and their job is seen as prestigious and full of perks—even if occasionally dangerous! The selfless devotion of these stonemasons has even been reflected in some North Korean movies. The carved slogans are then painted bright red, ensuring that they are visible from afar.
This frantic stone-cutting activity began in 1972 when North Korea celebrated Kim Il Sung’s 60th birthday with hitherto unprecedented pomp. Now this activity is explained as yet another brilliant invention of General Kim Jong Il, but in the earlier stages the credit for the idea used to go to Kim Il Sung himself. Indeed, Kim Il Sung once remarked: “It would be nice to carve out some good inscriptions on the rocks for future generations!”
This is not to deny Kim Jong Il’s involvement. In August 1973 he visited the Kŭmgangsan mountains and personally supervised the carving of the first inscriptions which honored his father’s “immortal achievements.”
A North Korean historian describes this campaign in the following terms (the quotation affords a glimpse into the modern North Korean academic style):
“Having wholeheartedly perceived the wise instructions of the Great Leader and the Dear Leader, party members and all working people rose to struggle to carve out inscriptions which would last for ten thousand generations. To this end, a ‘youth shock detachment’ was formed from Party Youth members and other young people who were helped by voluntary groups of workers. The members of the rapid combat detachment and helpers from the local population, inspired by a feeling of fiery devotion to the Great Leader, by February 1982 had created in Kŭmgangsan 61 carvings (3690 characters). In their scale and their deep ideological content they are not paralleled anywhere in the world [indeed!—A.L.]. Thus, the inscription ‘Juche’ on Ch’on’yŏn rock is 27 meters high, 8 meters wide, while its characters are 1.2 meters deep.”
In the early 1990s, this inscription was surpassed by yet another one, also located in the Kŭmgangsan mountains. In Korean, Kim Il Sung’s name is depicted by three characters, and each of the three was carved in stone 20 meters long and 16 meters wide, with strokes up to 2 meters broad. What makes things worse is the depth of the carving, which is 0.9 meters. Even if the paint is scrubbed off, such a huge inscription cannot be removed without a trace—it is now probably there forever!
The entire activity is supervised by the Institute of Party History, which is subordinated to the Central Committee. The Institute officials choose the sites for new inscriptions as well as their content. Nobody knows for sure how many stunningly beautiful rocks have been “adorned” by this Institute, but recently North Korean officials boasted that they had inscribed some 20,000 characters nationwide!
One must admit that the North Korean penchant for “beautifying the scenery” has some historic roots. It is in line with East Asian tradition, since carving out poetry on a suitable rock has long been the norm for rich travellers (i.e., those who could afford to hire stonemasons to do the job!). However, these old inscriptions were quite small, and blended in with the environment, especially since they were essentially unofficial in nature. They are a far cry from Kim Il Sung’s modern propaganda art.
The carved inscriptions are both conspicuous and virtually indestructible. Nothing short of dynamiting the mountains will erase them, and plastering them over is also unlikely to be completely successful. Thus, perhaps, these inscriptions will become the longest-lasting monument to Kim Il Sung’s era and his ambitions. For many decades, they will cause outrage and irritation (perhaps mixed with admiration), but sooner or later they will become the amusing reminder of times long past, like those equally megalomaniac inscriptions of ancient Babylonian and Assyrian kings.
*****
IN 1987 THE WORLD (OR RATHER the very small section of it that cared about North Korea in those pre–nuclear times) learned that the North Korean bureaucrats had invented yet another way to extol the Great Leader, Sun of the Nation, Ever-victorious Marshal Kim Il Sung. They began erecting massive commemorative stones bearing enlarged facsimile reproductions of the Great Leader’s own handwriting.
Actually, the idea to put the Great Leader’s pronouncements in stone is not that new. From the early 1970s, the picturesque North Korean mountains have been carved with huge inscriptions conveying to the masses slogans or sayings of Kim Il Sung. But the ch’inp’ilbi, as the stones carrying the facsimile reproductions are known, were somewhat different. First of all, they were much larger, and second, they bore an exact copy of the sacral handwriting. Nor was this a new idea for East Asia. The art of calligraphy has been appreciated there for millennia, and it was common for a Korean king or Chinese emperor to present an especially illustrious subject or some institution with a specimen of royal handwriting.
The first ch’inp’ilbi was unveiled in Pyongyang on the Morangbong Hill in October 1987. This monument was of great scale: its length was 75 meters, height 10.4 meters, and total weight was said to be 650 tons. On it workers carved a facsimile copy of the entire speech which Kim Il Sung delivered on October 14, 1945, upon his arrival in Korea. This was the first public speech by the would-be Great Leader after his return to Korea. As a matter of fact, the speech was written by the propaganda officers of the Soviet 25th Army, which was responsible for the occupation of Korea, but this fact was never admitted in the North, needless to say.
The masses and the Leader. The obligatory tribute paid to the mammoth statue of Kim Il Sung on top of Mansudae Hill. Photograph by Christopher Morris.
It was followed by a new monument, erected in April 1992, to commemorate Kim Il Sung’s eightieth birthday. This one was constructed in the Myohyang Mountains, at a place where Kim Il Sung once conducted one of his numerous “on-the-spot-guidance” homilies. This monument was smaller and weighed merely 250 tons, being made of granite. It conveyed the following wisdom: “Water is rice. Rice is Communism. The irrigation-based socialist agriculture of our country will have a great harvest every year. Kim Il Sung, April 15, 1992.” With the wisdom of hindsight this sounds a bit ironic, especially since Kim Il Sung’s incompetent advice on agricultural methods contributed to the disaster of 1996–1999. The terraced fields much promoted by the Great Leader proved to be vulnerable to floods and were virtually washed away. The irrigation system based on the wide use of power-driven pumps did not survive the energy crisis of the 1990s and the heavy reliance on such a system is often mentioned among the reasons that led to the disastrous famine.
However, the most important monument was erected in the truce village of Panmunjom. It is very short and contains only Kim Il Sung’s own signature and date: 1994.7.7 (July 7, 1994). This is a facsimile of Kim’s signature on one of the documents related to the “reunification” issue. He allegedly signed this document shortly before his sudden death on July 8. Probably this really was the case: Kim Il Sung died amidst the preparations for the first intra–Korean summit, which was scheduled to take place in late July 1994. The stone was symbolically located in Panmunjom, a “truce village,” which in popular imagination has long become the symbol of Korea’s division. The stone cannot be seen from the southern territory, but it is a must for all foreigners visiting Panmunjon from the North. Even Kim Jong Il once made a very public pilgrimage to this stone.
The most famous of all ch’inp’ilbi, located in Panmunjom. The facsimile copy of Kim Il Sung’s own signature. Photograph by Andrei Lankov.
The personality cult of Kim Jong Il is deliberately made to mirror the cult of his father. The much-adored “Kim Il Sung flower” is paired with the “Kim Jong Il flower.” The “Song of General Kim Il Sung” nearly replaced the national anthem, but after the promotion of Kim Jong Il the North Koreans were made to sing “Song of General Kim Jong Il” as well. Everything now comes in such pairs, with the exception of statues: for some reason, there are no Kim Jong Il statues in the North.
Thus, it is only logical that Kim Jong Il’s ch’inp’ilbi are present as well. In August 1993 one such commemorative stone was unveiled at a school once attended by Yi In-mo, a former North Korean officer and Communist guerrilla who was taken prisoner in the South, and then spent 34 years in prison since he refused to sign a repentance declaration. The stone contains a sentence from a letter sent by Kim Jong Il to Yi In-mo’s daughter: “Our Party will not forget Comrade Yi In-mo’s confidence and willpower.” Later this monument was augmented by some other specimens of Kim Jong Il’s ch’inp’ilbi. The most visible is located in the privileged Pyongyang Maternity Hospital. It says something mundane: “I wish you success in serving the people.” As one can easily guess, this is a quotation from Kim Jong Il’s congratulatory letter to the hospital staff.
In addition to these stones, facsimile copies of Kim Jong Il and Kim Il Sung’s handwriting are carved on rocky slopes in the mountains, and sometimes even reproduced as mosaics made of colored glass. One such “decoration,” for example, adorns a slope of Paektu Mountain and is reported to be 216 meters long.
I keep wondering what is going to happen to these monuments in the future. They are difficult to demolish, unlike statues that can easily be toppled. And what will grandchildren of present-day North Koreans feel while gazing on the traces of the Kims’ well-calculated megalomania? Disgust? Irony? Nostalgia? Admiration?
*****
IN 1964, AN INDONESIAN BOTANIST called Bunt bred a new type of orchid. One year later, the then Indonesian President Sukarno decided to use the new flower to please a foreign guest—the North Korean leader Kim Il Sung. Sukarno presented the flower to Kim Il Sung and suggested naming the orchid after his guest. Kim Il Sung loved the idea.
Thus North Korea acquired its very own special flower, and it became a sort of botanical symbol of the regime. Its name—Kim-il-sǒng-hwa or “flower of Kim Il Sung” in Korean—is translated into English in a number of ways, kimilsungia being, perhaps, the most suitable.
It could not have come at a better time: in the late 1960s the North had worldwide ambitions, and the Indonesia-originated flower seemed to confirm the love that the world’s peoples felt for their only true leader, Comrade Kim Il Sung, the Creator of the Immortal Juche Idea. This was confirmation of the ambitions of the North Korean leaders who tried to present their tiny country as another center of the worldwide Communist movement, an alternative to, and superior to, both Moscow and Beijing.
For the next few years, until 1975, North Korean botanists diligently worked with the presented orchid. The original breed flowered in September, but the efforts of the scientists bore fruit and the improved kimilsungia was in full bloom every April, just in time for the North’s lavish celebrations for Kim Il Sung’s birthday.
The kimilsungia was called “the flower of loyalty” and its breeding became an important political task, yet another test of political reliability. By the late 1970s the kimilsungia craze had taken over the North.
Of course, this craze was heavily subsidized by the government: the Korean Peninsula is not the most suitable natural environment for a tropical orchid. In 1979 the Central Botanic Gardens in Pyongyang constructed a special “Kimilsungia greenhouse” which was to breed the vulnerable flowers. Initially the greenhouse area was 600 square meters, but in the 1980s it was enlarged to 1,500 square meters. Similar greenhouses were built throughout the country; every major city and every province has one.
Thus, the North Koreans now have a reliable supply of kimilsungia. It was difficult to breed the capricious flowers at home, so the job was entrusted to teams of professional botanists who take care of the seedlings in the greenhouses. These ecological bubbles did not come cheap, but who cared?
However, in the 1980s it became clear that the kimilsungia craze lacked its politically symmetrical counterpart. Every single propaganda campaign aimed at eulogizing Kim Senior had to be augmented by a similar gimmick extolling the virtues of his son and heir, soon to become a new Great Leader. Thus, in 1988 Kim Jong Il got a flower of his own. It was called kim-jǒng-il-hwa or kimjongilia.
The story of the kimjongilia was deliberately constructed to contain a parallel with that of kimilsungia. This time the flower originated in Japan, where a local botanist named Kamo Motoderu spent some twenty years breeding it from a South American begonia. He then presented the flower on the 46th birthday of the Dear Leader as a token of “friendship and goodwill between Korea and Japan.” Soon afterwards, this particular begonia was bred throughout North Korea, requiring even more greenhouses, even though it is said to be easier to grow than kimilsungia. The first such greenhouse was erected in 1989, with a total area of 730 square meters.
The statue on top of Mansudae Hill, 1972 vintage Stalinist realism, North Korean version. Photograph by Anna Fifield.
Meanwhile, the North Korean composers wrote a song called “Kimjongilia,” soon to be performed across the country. The lyrics read:
The red flowers that are blossoming over our land
Are like our hearts: full of love for the leader.
Our hearts follow the young buds of kimjongilia;
Oh! The flower of our loyalty!
Lavish exhibitions of these flowers were held in cities throughout the 1990s. In recent years a particularly extravagant and expensive exhibition of kimjongilia became a standard feature of the annual birthday celebrations of Kim Jong Il. The best specimens, reared by some local institutions or presented from overseas, are exhibited there. The foreign businessmen who cooperate with the North are pressured to “donate” some money and/or flowers for such an exhibition. The press runs stories about selfless Koreans who were keeping the flowers warm throughout the winter even when their houses were freezing during the disastrous years of the Great Famine.
The economic difficulties seemingly did not influence the spread of kimjongilia and kimilsungia even though tropical flowers are unlikely to prosper in a starving temperate-zone country. Indeed, the greenhouses breeding kimjongilia and kimilsungia are deemed so important that even in the midst of famine, amidst the nearly complete collapse of the energy supply, the greenhouses were still allocated generous quotas of hot water and electricity. People might have died in large numbers, but Indonesian orchids and Japanese begonias survived.
*****
WHAT WOULD YOU EXPECT to see in a subway museum? You are probably going to say that in such a place there must be some photos documenting the subway construction, and perhaps models of the carriages and other equipment used by the subway services. Yes—but not if your museum is located in Pyongyang.
North Korean museums are very specific institutions. Basically, there are two types of museum in North Korea: museums in the normal sense of the word, and the so-called museums of merit (sajǒkkwan in Korean). The real museums form only a minority. There are just half a dozen of them in Pyongyang and a handful in the countryside.
Meanwhile, “museums of merit” are virtually everywhere. In the 1990s, there were some 60 museums of this type nationwide. I’ve seen three such museums, affiliated with a university, a railway, and a subway, as well as two local “museums of merit” in Wonsan and Ch’ǒnsanli. And, I dare to say, this was an unforgettable, if bizarre, experience!
The full official name of these institutions is “Museum of the Revolutionary Merit of the Great Leader and the Dear Leader” (that is, of Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il). In fact, they are museums of Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il but with some local or specialized touches. These establishments use the backdrop of a university, railway, subway or locality to illustrate the acts or thoughts of the Leaders.
Thus, in the subway museum, the first few halls deal with the childhood of Kim Il Sung, followed by his guerrilla activities in Manchuria, his return to the country and, of course, his wise leadership during the Korean War. The heroic deeds of Kim Jong Il are treated with equal respect, but none of the exhibits in the first halls is related to the subway in any meaningful manner. Only in later halls do materials related to the subway itself begin to appear.
Nonetheless, even these materials are, first and foremost, related to the Kims and their constant care for the development of the Pyongyang subway system. Of course, there are photos of the subway construction and of workers, and there are leaflets and newspapers that were issued during the subway construction. However, the exhibition is centered around such moving items as, say, a fountain pen that Kim Il Sung once used to sign the decree about the subway construction, or a chair in which Kim Il Sung sat while inspecting the construction site, or a microphone into which Kim Il Sung uttered a few words about the subway, or even an entire vehicle in which Kim Il Sung once traveled between two underground stations.
The walls are decorated with photos and pictures treating the same subject of “Kim Il Sung, Kim Jong Il and the subway” from all imaginable perspectives. A huge diorama equipped with numerous special effects is devoted to that great historic event: the inspection of the subway construction by Kim Il Sung.
In the railway “museum of merit” one picture was especially memorable. It depicts a girl in railway uniform holding a signal flashlight and standing near a railway line while looking with tearful eyes somewhere into the darkness. The caption explains everything: “Where are you going so late at night, our Great Leader?”
Once upon a time the “museums of merit” dealt with Kim Il Sung alone, but after Kim Jong Il was officially declared his heir in 1980, they were re-organized to relate the heroic deeds of the younger Kim as well. I was particularly moved by the hall “Kim Jong Il at a Military Camp” in the Kim Il Sung University’s “museum of merit.” Like all other university students in the early 1960s, the would-be heir designate was required to undertake a short course of reserve officers’ training (somewhat similar to the American ROTC system, but obligatory). Among other exhibits, there is a rifle (allegedly Kim’s), his shovel and even a ladle Kim Jong Il used while working a shift in the camp kitchen. Another huge picture is devoted to this historical event of great significance—Kim Jong Il working a shift in the kitchen. He is depicted giving instructions to his fellow students—attentive and admiring, needless to say!
In the late 1980s, the village of Ŏŭndong, within the administrative borders of Pyongyang, where Kim’s training camp was once located, became a huge memorial complex. Even a stone on which Kim Jong Il rested after a tiring run has been specially fenced and now is carefully protected there. After all, only six months of Marshal Kim Jong Il’s life were spent in the barracks, and throughout all this not-so-long time of his “military service” Kim Jong Il was in Ŏŭndong. So, the place warrants special attention indeed!
*****
IN AUGUST 2003, SOUTH KOREANS were excited about some very special and unusual guests. The North Korean athletes who came to take part in the Taegu Universiade were accompanied by a large team of beautiful cheerleaders. The girls were stunners, indeed, and the power of the mysterious and the exotic made them an instant success.
Such socialist realism paintings of Kim Il Sung adorn countless crossroads in the country. They should be kept in good order. Photograph by Andrei Lankov.
On August 28 the girls were returning to their boarding facilities after they had cheered for North Korean archers. It was raining, and through the windows of their buses they saw portraits of Kim Jong Il pictured together with the South Korean President Kim Dae Jung. The banner was an enlarged copy of a photo taken during the summit in 2000. Obviously, it was put up by some South Korean leftist-nationalist groups (and what wonderful cheerleaders for the Dear Leader and his system these groups are!).
However, the picture had an unintended effect. Once the beauties saw it, they were outraged. The banner was wet, since it had not been duly protected against the rain! The raindrops were damaging the sacral likeness of the Dear Leader! The girls demanded the bus drivers to stop and rushed to rescue the icons. They also had an additional complaint: the banner was placed inappropriately low! The journalists were eager to take pictures of this colorful scene: a crowd of the outraged beauties running to save the likeness of the incumbent monarch, loudly screaming all the way.
North Korea is a country of portraits—portraits of Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il, that is. The portraits are ubiquitous. They are to be placed in every living room, in every office, in every railway (and, by extension, subway) carriage but, for some reason, not on the buses or trolleybuses. The portraits adorn the entrances of all major public buildings, railways stations and schools. Reportedly, in the late 1990s, the largest portrait of Kim Il Sung within the city limits of Pyongyang graced the First Department Store in the very center of the North Korean capital. The portrait was 15 meters high and 11 meters wide.
North Koreans have been living under the permanent gaze of the Great Leader for more than three decades. In the late 1960s North Koreans were ordered to place these icons in their homes and offices. By 1972, when Kim’s 60th birthday was lavishly celebrated, North Korea had a much greater density of portraits than could ever be found in Stalin’s Russia or Mao’s China—the two countries that bestowed this peculiar fondness for the Leader’s portraits on Korea.
In the late 1970s, the North Koreans received another set of instructions. They were ordered to display portraits of Kim Jong Il, the heir designate. This had to be done unofficially. The propaganda insisted that there was a widespread movement of North Koreans who, purely out of love for the son of their ruler, began to adorn their dwellings with his portraits. Only in the late 1980s did Kim Jong Il’s portraits appear in public spaces, and from the early 1990s on they have been the same size as those of his father and they are put together in rooms and offices in pairs.
All portraits are produced by the Mansudae workshops that specialize in making images of Kim Il Sung, Kim Jong Il, and their relatives. They are framed and glazed (and only the best glass and timber will do!).
In different eras the Kims were depicted in diverse manners, and these changes tell a lot about changes in ideology and policy. In the 1960s and 1970s Kim Il Sung wore a Mao suit, stressing the austerity and quasi-military character of the regime. In the mid–1980s these portraits were replaced with new ones, depicting Kim Il Sung in a Western-type suit. This signaled the relative openness of the regime in the late 1980s. After Kim Il Sung’s death in 1994, the new portraits also showed him in suits (incidentally, these portraits were called a “depiction of the Sun” since in his lifetime Kim was “the Sun of the Nation”). However, from early 2001 Kim Il Sung has appeared in newly issued portraits in the military uniform of a generalissimo, the rank he bestowed on himself in the last years of his long life.
Kim Jong Il’s portrait underwent similar changes. Initially Kim Jong Il was also depicted in the dark-colored Mao suit, once his favorite. However, the 2001 version showed him in the grandeur of a marshal’s uniform. This once again confirmed the importance of the “army-first policy” proclaimed by Kim Jong Il, North Korea’s “Glorious Marshal” who—unlike the vast majority of North Korean males—never served in the military himself.
Nowadays, in 2004–2005, there are two sets of the portraits in North Korean houses. The households of party cadres, military officers and security officials sport three portraits: one depicts Kim Il Sung, another Kim Jong Il, and yet another Kim Il Sung’s wife and Kim Jong Il’s mother, Kim Jong Suk. Such sets are distributed to them by the state authorities and are supposed to be put on display.
Lesser beings have not been ordered so far to have the portraits of Kim Jong Suk, but their humbler dwellings still sport three pictures—a portrait of the Dear Leader, a portrait of the Great Leader, and a photo depicting the two great men talking together.
But this is the situation in late 2004. By the time you read this, it will probably change: the “portrait policy” has been remarkable for its constant fluidity.
North Korea is run as if it is a cult, and portraits of the Kim family are icons of this religion. The special care of these icons is prescribed by the so-called ten rules of the unified ideological system, a sort of North Korean “Ten commandments” (taking into consideration the Christian background of Kim Il Sung and many other early Communist activists, this is not necessarily a coincidence).
The portraits are put on one of the walls, and that wall cannot be used for any other images or pinups. When a North Korean family moves to another place, they must start by hanging the Kims’ portraits on the wall. Random checks are conducted to make sure that proper care of the portraits is taken.
Of course, the portraits have to be kept in good order. Thus, every set comes with a special box which is used to keep tools for maintaining the portraits. Inside such a box there are two pieces of soft cloth for cleaning the portraits and a brush. The cleaning should be done daily. In offices and schools, the local cadres are responsible for organizing proper cleaning, and the quality of the job is checked by random inspections by more senior cadres. It is a major sin to have portraits undusted, and even unintentional damage to the portraits is a serious problem.
In the military, the portraits are hung in all rooms in permanent barracks. When a unit departs for a field exercise (as North Korean units do often), the portraits are taken with them. Once the platoon prepares its tent or, more commonly, its dugout, the portraits are placed there, and only after this ritual is the provisional shelter deemed suitable for life.
Often the portraits become an important part of ritual. In schools, students are required to bow to the portraits and express their gratitude to the Dear Leader who, in his wisdom and kindness, bestowed such a wonderful life on his subjects. The portraits feature very prominently in marriage ceremonies as well. The couple has to make deep bows to the portraits of the Great Leaders. This tribute is very public and serves as a culmination of the wedding ritual. It does not matter whether the wedding ceremony is held in a public wedding hall or at home.
The portraits are jealously protected. Even incidental damage of the portrait might spell disaster for the culprit. It was recently learned that Kim Yŏng-jun, a prominent Korean leftist scholar who had defected to the North, committed suicide in the 1960s. The reason? He accidentally damaged Kim Il Sung’s portrait. This suicide was an indication of neither his excessive political zeal nor his paranoia. He made a rational choice, preferring a swift death in the relative comfort of his privileged apartment block to a slow death in prison.
Thus it comes as no surprise that in 2003 the North Korean cheerleaders reacted to the improper treatment of the portraits in such a violent manner. Nonetheless, it is a great unknown if the girls were sincere in their rush. Perhaps, they simply wanted to demonstrate their loyalty and score some additional points in their files or just followed the crowd with full knowledge that insufficient zeal would be dangerous.
*****
EDUCATION IN NORTH KOREA IS POLITICAL. This is a truism, since the same can be said about education in any other country. Schools are entrusted with the task of imbuing future citizens with the values considered “correct” in any given society.
So, what is so special about North Korea? First of all, the sheer volume of propaganda which is heaped on the children is exceptional. Another peculiarity is the prominence given to the country’s ruling family—the world’s only Communist dynasty.
This is not really unique. Most other Communist countries have emphasized the importance and superiority of their systems over that of their adversaries. Needless to say, Stalin and Mao also received more than their fair share of adulation in the Russian and Chinese textbooks of their era. However, the scale of such propaganda in North Korea surpasses everything which has been seen before.
The emphasis is, first and foremost, on the Kim family. The North Korean system is good because it was created by the Kims, and it remains good as long as it is managed by them—or so the mantra goes.
Therefore, every North Korean student must study the biographies of Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il. Not real biographies, of course, but rather a collection of fairy tales where the Great and Dear Leaders are presented as the embodiment of wisdom, courage, benevolence and all other virtues.
Back in the 1980s, I had the opportunity to visit a couple of showcase North Korean kindergartens. Both boasted a special room for these “biographical” studies, with a large relief model of Mangyŏngdae, the native village of Kim Il Sung, placed in the center. Before the lesson started, all the children along with their teacher made three full bows to Kim Il Sung’s portrait chanting the words: “Thank you, Marshal-Father!” And with this charming ritual, the lesson commenced. Nowadays, it is Kim Jong Il rather than Kim Il Sung who is in the center of the ritual.
One after another, the children were summoned by the teacher to approach the model. In childish voices, but doing their best to affect an “adult” intonation, they would recite various episodes from the Great Leader’s childhood: “Here the Father-Leader played war games preparing himself for combat against the Japanese imperialists,” or “Here the Father-Leader trained himself by playing sports.” The unfortunate children are required to speak with the aggressive pathos which is common in North Korean radio broadcasts, using “adult” expressions and idiom.
The children are reminded that it is only thanks to the Kim dynasty that they are able to enjoy their “happy childhood.” Even the food they eat is proof of the benevolence of the Great Leader, so after every meal all children have to thank the Leader for his care for them, chanting: “Great Leader, thank you very much, we ate well!”
As children attend primary school, they begin to study the “history of the Great Leader.” Then, in secondary school, there is another round, followed by a final dose at university. Since the 1980s, the “Revolutionary history of the Great Leader” has been supplemented by the “revolutionary history of the Dear Leader” (Kim Jong Il). Now the younger Kim has supplanted the dynasty’s founding father as the primary object of official veneration. Finally, Kim Jong Suk, the first wife of Kim Il Sung and mother of Kim Jong Il, has also joined the group and nowadays students are supposed to study her great deeds as well.
However, political education does not end with these indoctrination classes. Even such seemingly apolitical subjects as mathematics are awash with political messages. Take, for example, a quiz from a North Korean math textbook: “3 soldiers from the Korean People’s Army killed 30 American soldiers. How many American soldiers were killed by each of them, if they all killed an equal number of enemy soldiers?” Then a child may be offered more food for thought: “The Great Leader-Father Kim Il Sung was, as a child, once given 9 apples. He gave 3 to his grandfather, 2 to his grandmother, 1 to his father and 1 to his mother. How many apples did he give away and how many did he keep for himself?”
North Korean books on social subjects are permeated with statements about the Leaders’ wisdom: “The Great Leader Kim Il Sung was the great father of the people who during the 82 years of his life kept working for the people and did not allow himself a day of rest!”
One should wonder how it is possible to connect young Kim to the anti-guerrilla resistance. After all, the would-be heir designate was merely three years old when the struggle was over. However, this does not seem to be an issue: the North Korean children are taught that their nation’s leader was born in a secret guerrilla base in mountain forests of Paektusan and took part in the liberation struggle in spite of being a toddler!
To what extent does such an education influence the North Koreans? If my Soviet experience is a guide, its impact should be neither overestimated nor underestimated. Some details will disappear soon, but underlying assumptions are likely to last. The North Koreans might lose their belief in the superhuman qualities of the Kim family overnight, but it will probably take much longer for them to learn not to expect too much from the state and take their own lives in their own hands.
*****
IN 1979 A BOOK WAS PUBLISHED in North Korea. It was called On the Honorific Words Applicable to the Great Leader Comrade Kim Il Sung, and the Proper Use of Respectful Expressions in Reference to the Great Leader. I suspect that the book was welcomed by many Koreans who had been forced to navigate the treacherous shoals of political linguistics without proper charts. By the late 1970s Kim Il Sung’s personality cult had reached a near hysterical pitch, and he had to be mentioned and thanked everywhere. However, the use of an improper expression could easily land a person in a prison camp. Thus, clear instructions were badly needed. They probably existed since the 1960s but were not published openly—a major inconvenience in an era when every North Korean had to pay tribute to the Great Man.
Of all Kim Il Sung’s titles, “Great Leader” was the most popular. It nearly became Kim Il Sung’s second name. The English “Leader” is used here to translate Korean “suryǒng,” which consists of two Chinese characters, the first meaning “head” and the second “lead” or “leader.”
The term was introduced in the late 1940s, and initially it was applied only to Stalin and Lenin, the two “great leaders” of Communism. In 1952 Kim Il Sung was promoted to the rank of suryǒng as well. Nonetheless, in those early years he was usually called “susang” (“prime-minister”), or “changgun” (“general”). Suryǒng was still too lofty a designation for general use and was reserved for special occasions.
It became a standard term of reference only in the 1960s, usually combined with widaehan, “great,” or with ǒbǒi, “fatherly.” From around 1960 it was only Kim who could be addressed in that fashion.
“Great Leader” or “Fatherly Leader” became the two most frequently used sobriquets of the North Korean dictator. There were others—some dozens of them, and they were sometimes very picturesque. The most common were “Sun of the Nation” and “Ever-Victorious General.” “Sun of Mankind” was also widely used.
In 1972 Kim Il Sung promoted himself to the newly established post of state president. It was called chusǒk, the Korean pronunciation of the title that was used for Mao as well. However, in Chinese the title is usually rendered in English as “Chairman,” while in Korea for some reason it came to be translated as “President.”
In the 1970s Kim Jong Il began to consolidate his power. For a while the rising son was enigmatically called the “Party Center,” but eventually he acquired a title of his own. This was ch’inaehanǔn chidoja or “Dear Leader.” One has to note that for father and son they use two different Korean words, which both are usually rendered into English as “leader.” Kim Senior was “suryǒng” while Kim Junior was merely “chidoja.” It is hardly possible to render this difference in English correctly; alas, the language of Shakespeare is somewhat lacking when it comes to discriminating the subtleties of that vocabulary.
When President Kim died in 1994 his son assumed power. After the three years of mourning passed, North Koreans were informed that henceforth the designation suryǒng would never be employed for anyone else. This title, even posthumously, could be applied to the late Kim Il Sung alone. The position of the President was also reserved for him forever. Kim Il Sung’s son became the head of state, not its president. He holds the position of Chairman of the National Defense Committee—and thus the title “Chairman Kim” can occasionally be seen in the Western press.
And what happened to the “Dear Leader” after his father’s death? He changed the first part of his official appellation, becoming “great” instead of “dear.” However, the second part remains the same: Kim Jong Il is “chidoja” or “ryǒngdoja.” Kim Junior can occasionally be called “suryǒng” as well, but in general this somewhat superior title is still reserved for his late father.
Perhaps, sooner or later, Kim Jong Il will also be upgraded to suryǒng. After all, some titles which once were reserved for Kim Il Sung have become standard for Kim Jong Il as well. For decades, the North Koreans knew that only Kim Il Sung should be referred to as “the sun of the nation” (minjǒkŭi t’aeyang’), but nowadays this is one of the most common titles of Kim Jong Il.
This elaborate system creates a lot of problems for English translators. The standard titles of “Great Leader” and “Dear Leader” have long become the standard sobriquets of Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il in English texts. These translations give some flavor of the original, but they are not quite correct now in the 2000s when the most common titles of both Kim Jong Il and Kim Il Sung can be rendered as “Great Leader,” with the original having the same Korean word for “great” but different words for “leader.”
There are other honorific titles reserved for the Dear (or, sorry, now Great) Leader. Some of these simply reflect his official positions: he is the Supreme Commander-in-Chief, the General Secretary and the like. The titles of “Beloved General” (kyǒngaehanǔn changgun) and “Commander-in-Chief” (kycngaehanǔn ch’oego saryǒnggwang) are also quite popular. Some other titles are more inventive, like the Bright Star of Paektu Mountain (Paektu kwangmyǒngsǒng) or Guiding Star (hyangdo-ui pyŏl, a literal translation of a Western idiom, once very popular among the Russian propaganda-mongers of Stalin’s era).
It appears that, when compared to his late father, Kim Jong Il is somewhat less enthusiastic about flowery titles: the rules governing the use of these terms have become less strict after his ascent to power. Indeed, Kim Jong Il knows what has happened to the numerous “little Stalins” across the world, and perhaps is not very happy about the situation in which he finds himself. But what can be done? The Soviet experience clearly demonstrated that reforms can easily lead to a revolution, and if such a revolution happens, neither the “Beloved General” nor his entourage have any place to go....