In the Land of the Dear Leader

Patriotic gymnastics, daily study of Kim Jong Il—alongside the personality cult, North Korea shows growing pragmatism and foreign investment

by Dexter Roberts

This is the second in a two-part series. For Part One, see "A Rare Look Inside North Korea" (BusinessWeek, 10/1/07).

If the Oct. 2 summit between South Korean President Roh Moo Hyun and North Korea's Dear Leader Kim Jong Il might be a hopeful sign of pragmatism from the North Korean leadership, during the second day of my trip to Pyongyang I was able to witness the North's wacky ideology run amok. Morning featured a visit to the huge, copper-colored statue of Kim's father, the Great Leader Kim Il Sung, backed by a massive 70-meter-long mosaic featuring Mt. Paekdu, the sacred mountain the state says was his birthplace. Solemn schoolchildren wearing red scarves quietly walked to the base of the statue to place wreaths of flowers and bow.

We also went to see the Grand People's Study House. The huge building, with its traditional sweeping roof, purportedly holds 30 million books, but entry is likely restricted to elite Koreans. At the Study House, we heard how Leader Worship is inculcated in all North Koreans from childhood. "We must study 45 minutes a day on our Great Leader, then 45 more on our Dear Leader," said our third guide, a pretty 20-year-old student taking a break from her English language studies at the elite Kim Il Sung University to help our tour.

That indoctrination starts at age 7 and continues right to university, where ideology classes switch to a full hour-and-a-half a day on the elder Kim, then alternate the following day with Kim the Younger. "It's not easy at all. There is lots of memorization, and we have exams every day," she said.

Patriotism on Display

That evening was Arirang, the mass demonstration of patriotic gymnastics held in the world's largest auditorium, and the putative reason for our visit to North Korea. As 100,000 performers unfurled flags and wheeled in unison, they created enormous shifting pictures of everything from soldiers fighting for the Korean motherland to hydroelectric projects surging with water to generate electricity.

But despite that eerie sight of tens of thousands of North Koreans perfectly choreographed in a display of massive patriotism, our young guide's comment to me as we departed hinted again at pragmatism. "I should start studying Chinese," she said with a laugh, as we watched hundreds of Chinese tourists pour out of the May First Stadium.

Day three, our last in North Korea, happened to fall on the national holiday of Chusok, a traditional festival to celebrate bumper crops (unlikely in a North Korea recently ravaged by floods) as well as to visit the tombs of one's ancestors. Pyongyang, for once, looked alive. Families walked through the parks, dressed, it seemed, in slightly more colorful holiday clothes, and children ran alongside the road laughing.

Then about one hour into our trip, disaster struck, or so it initially seemed. Our bus engine began to cough more than usual until finally our driver pulled over to discover a fast-draining, punctured fuel line. A second bus dispatched to ferry us the rest of the way to our mountain tourist destination then also broke down, just as we pulled up to the hotel sitting at the entrance to the Myohyang Mountain resort.

Economic Conditions

That meant the cancellation of our visit to the International Friendship Exhibition, home to tens of thousands of gifts given to the Great and Dear Leaders, including everything from automobiles to ashtrays. But while our frustrated guides arranged for a third vehicle to drive the two-hours-plus from the capital to pick us up, we grabbed a rare chance to wander unescorted.

Staying easily within a 3km radius to the hotel as arbitrarily demanded by our guides, we were able for once to mingle along the road with friendly locals (but unable to communicate as we spoke no Korean) as well as enjoy watching students play soccer in a scruffy schoolyard complete with a young portrait of Kim Il Sung watching over them. Simple enough certainly, but a great pleasure in light of the tightly controlled environment enforced around us for most of our time in North Korea.