Taste of life under Kim Jong Un’s thumb
Refugees reveal realities of living inside North Korea under ‘Great Successor’
“In North Korea, life only gets better if the state helps you. But these days, the state doesn’t help. We’re on our own.”
— The bride, now 23, from Hyesan. Escaped from North Korea in May 2017. When Kim Jong Un became the leader of North Korea almost six years ago, many North Koreans thought that their lives were going to improve. He offered the hope of generational change in the world’s longest-running communist dynasty. After all, he was so young. A millennial. Someone with experience of the outside world.
But the “Great Successor,” as he is called by the regime, has turned out to be every bit as brutal as his father and grandfather before him. Even as he has allowed greater economic freedom, he has tried to seal the country off more than ever, stepping up security along the border with China and stepping up the punishments for those who dare to try to cross it. And at home, freedom of speech, and of thought, is still a mirage.
In six months of interviews in South Korea and Thailand, the Washington Post talked with more than 25 North Koreans from different walks of life who lived in Kim Jong Un’s North Korea and managed to escape from it. In barbecue restaurants, cramped apartments and hotel rooms, these refugees provided the fullest account to date of daily life inside North Korea and how it has changed, and how it hasn’t, since Kim took over from his father, Kim Jong Il, at the end of 2011. Many are from the northern parts of the country that border China — the part of North Korea where life is toughest, and where knowledge about the outside world just across the river is most widespread — and are from the relatively small segment of the population that is prepared to take the risks involved in trying to escape.
Some parts of their stories cannot be independently verified because of the secretive nature of the regime and their names have been withheld to protect their family members still in North Korea. They were introduced to the Post by groups that help North Korean escapees, including No Chain for North Korea, Woorion and Liberty in North Korea.
But in talking about their experiences, including torture and the culture of surveillance, they recounted the hardships of daily life under Kim Jong Un’s regime. They paint a picture of a once-communist state that has all but broken down, its statedirected economy at a standstill. Today, North Koreans are making their own way, earning money in an entrepreneurial and often illegal fashion. There are few problems in North Korea that money can’t solve.
As life inside North Korea is chang- ing, so too are people’s reasons for escaping. Increasingly, North Koreans are not fleeing their totalitarian state because they are hungry, as they did during the 15 or so years following the outbreak of a devastating famine in the mid-1990s. Now, they are leaving because they are disillusioned.
Market activity is exploding, and with that comes a flow of information, whether as chit-chat from traders who cross into China or as soap operas loaded on USB sticks. And this leads many North Koreans to dream in a way they hadn’t before.
Some are leaving North Korea because they want their children to get a better education. Some are leaving because their dreams of success and riches in the North Korean system are being thwarted. And some are leaving because they want to be able to speak their minds. Anew Kim at the helm Korean Central News Agency — Dec. 19, 2011 — “Standing at the forefront of the Korean revolution is Kim Jong Un, great successor to the revolutionary cause of Juche (self-reliance ideology) and outstanding leader of our party, army and people.” The meat delivery guy, now 23, from Undok. Escaped in 2014: “Kim Jong Un came to power the same year I graduated from high school, and I had very high hopes for him. I heard that he’d studied abroad in Switzerland. I thought he was going to be very different from his father.” The young mother, now 29, from Hoeryong. Escaped in 2014:
“I could see how young he was, and I hoped that maybe things were going to get better. We were given some rations through our neighbourhood association — we even got meat and fish — at the time he took over.” The preschooler, now 7, from Hoeryong. Escaped in 2014:
“I remember how fat he was. He had a very fat face like a pig.”
As the regime started preparing for Kim’s succession, it put out a song that everyone in the country was made to learn, called “Footsteps.” The idea was that Kim was following in the footsteps of his father and would lead the country into a glorious future. The money man, now 43, from Hyesan. Escaped in 2015:
“We heard the song ‘Footsteps’ and we were told to memorize it so (we) knew that he was going to be the leader after Kim Jong Il. We were told how great he was, that he could ride a horse when he was 5 years old and shoot a gun when he was 3. Of course, we didn’t believe these things, but if you laughed or said anything, you’d be killed.” The university student, now 37, from Sariwon. Escaped in 2013:
“I was in my second year at the university when this person was introduced to us as our new leader. I thought it was a joke. Among my closest friends, we were calling him a piece of s--t. Everyone thinks this, but you can only say it to your closest friends or to your parents if you know that they agree.” The drug dealer, now 46, from Hoeryong. Escaped in 2014:
“I created some kind of fantasy in my mind about Kim Jong Un. Because he was so young, I thought he was going to open North Korea’s doors, but after he took power and I lived three years under him, life became harder.” Money talks In theory, North Korea is a bastion of socialism, a country where the state provides everything, including housing, health care, education and jobs. In reality, the state economy barely operates anymore. People work in factories and fields, but there is little for them to do and they are paid almost nothing. A vibrant private economy has sprung up out of necessity, one where people find ways to make money on their own, whether through selling homemade tofu or dealing drugs, through smuggling small DVD players with screens called “notels” over the border or extracting bribes. The university student:
“North Korea technically has a centrally planned economy, but now people’s lives revolve around the market. No one expects the government to provide things anymore. Everyone has to find their own way to survive.” The bean trader, now 23, from Hyesan. Escaped in 2014:
“I had an aunt in Pyongyang who sold beans in the market there. I would buy what she needed from various farmers and get it to her. I’d pay people to pack up the beans into sacks, pay porters to take them to the station, get them onto the train. You have to smooth the way with money. My uncle is in the military, so his position provided protection for my aunt’s business. Of course, my aunt was the main earner in the house. It’s the women who can really make money in North Korea.”
Tens of thousands of North Koreans now work outside the country, in lumber yards and garment factories and on construction sites, in China, Russia and other countries, earning foreign currency. Generally, twothirds of their pay goes to the regime and they’re allowed to keep the rest. The construction worker, now 40, from Pyongyang. Escaped in 2015:
“I wanted to earn money for my family and buy a house, so I paid $100 to bribe my way into an overseas construction job. I was sent to St. Petersburg. We lived at the construction site and would work from 8 a.m. to 8 p.m., or sometimes until midnight in the summer, then we’d go back to our dormitory to eat. We worked seven days a week, but we could finish early on Sundays — 7 p.m. — and that was nice. My whole purpose for being there was to make lots of money and go home proud of my achievement. I still remember the first time I got paid. It was 1,000 rubles. When I finished work at 10 p.m., I went to the store and saw that a bottle of beer was 27 rubles. I thought, ‘wow, I’m rich.’ ”
As the economy and the rules that govern it change, there are more and more grey areas that can be exploited. That means that illegal trade and activity have blossomed, too. The drug dealer:
“I did so many things that I wasn’t supposed to do. I worked as a broker transferring money and connecting people in North Korea with people in South Korea through phone calls. I arranged reunions for them in China. I smuggled antiques out of North Korea and sold them in China. I sold ginseng and pheasants to China. And I dealt ice (methamphetamines). Officially, I was a factory worker, but I bribed my way out of having to go to work. If you don’t operate this way in North Korea, you have nothing.” The doctor, now 42, from Hyesan. Escaped in 2014:
“The salary for doctors was about 3,500 won a month. That was less than it cost to buy one kilogram of rice. So of course, being a doctor was not my main job. My main job was smuggling at night. I would send herbal medicine from North Korea into China, and with the money, I would import home appliances back into North Korea. Rice cookers, notels, LCD monitors, that kind of thing.”
From the big cities to the smallest villages, There is now some kind of market building where people can sell their wares and keep their profits.
Money is now needed for nearly everything — even for the parts of communist life that the Kim regime crows about providing, such as housing and schooling. Bribery and corruption have become endemic, undermining the regime by loosening controls and creating incentives that may not always be in line with Kim’s priorities. The fisherman, now 45, from Ryongchon. Escaped in 2017:
“I lived through all three Kims, but our life was not getting any better for any of us. We all have to pay for Kim Jong Un’s projects, like Ryomyong Street (a residential development in Pyongyang). We had to contribute 15,000 North Korean won per household (more than four months’ salary) to the government for that street.” The drug dealer:
“My main business was selling ice. I think that 70 or 80 per cent of the adults in Hoeryong city were using ice. My customers were just ordinary people. Police officers, security agents, party members, teachers, doctors. Ice made a really good gift for birthday parties or for high school graduation presents. It makes you feel good and helps you release stress, and it really helps relations between men and women . . . ”
The ability to make money, sometimes lots of money, through means both legal and illegal has led to visible inequality in a country that has long touted itself as an egalitarian socialist paradise. This could be a potential source of disruption. The construction worker:
“There were long periods where we didn’t get paid. I once went for six months without getting any salary at all. We lived in a shipping container at the construction site. We were given rice and cabbage and one egg per person per day, and we had an electric coil in our container that we could cook on. We needed some protein because our work was so hard, so we started buying pigskin at the market because it was cheap. Washing was like a special occasion.” The phone connector, now 49, from Hoeryong. Escaped in 2013:
“I watched lots of (smuggled) movies and soap operas on USB sticks from the market. I would plug them into my TV. Vendors who are selling ordinary things like batteries or rice or whatever, they hide the USBs inside under the counter. When you go into the market, you say to the vendors: Do you have anything delicious today? That’s the code. USBs are also good because they are so easy to hide.” Repression and disillusionment It is impossible to overstate the pervasiveness of the personality cult surrounding the Kims. Founding president Kim Il Sung, his son Kim Jong Il and his grandson, the current leader, Kim Jong Un form a kind of holy trinity. There is no criticizing them or questioning the system — not without risking your freedom. Your life itself could be at stake. The preschooler:
“I learned songs about the general and about the Kim family and how great Kim Il Sung was.” The elementary schoolgirl, now 7, from Ryongchon. Escaped in 2017:
“We got gifts on Kim Jong Un’s birthday: candy and cookies and gum and puffed rice. I was so grateful to him for giving me all these sweets. We would stand up in class and say, ‘Thank you, General Kim Jong Un.’ ”
“If someone is drunk and says Kim Jong Un is a son of a b---h, you’ll never see them again.” THE YOUNG MOTHER
The university student:
“We had ideological education for 90 minutes every day. There was revolutionary history, lessons about Kim Il Sung, Kim Jong Il, Kim Jong Un. Of course, they taught us about why we needed nuclear weapons, and they would tell us that we needed to make sacrifices in our daily lives so they could build these weapons and protect our country . . . I was so sick and tired of hearing about all this revolutionary history, I was so sick of calling everyone ‘comrade.’ ” The young mother:
“Everybody knew that Kim Jong Il and Kim Jong Un were both liars, that everything is their fault, but it’s impossible to voice any opposition because we are under such tight surveillance. If someone is drunk and says Kim Jong Un is a son of a b---h, you’ll never see them again.” The doctor:
“It’s like a religion. From birth, you learn about the Kim family, learn that they are gods, that you must be absolutely obedient to the Kim family. The elites are treated nicely, and because of that they make sure that the system stays stable. But for everyone else, it’s a reign of terror. The Kim family uses terror to keep people scared, and that makes it impossible to stage any kind of social gathering, let alone an uprising.”