Under The Loving Care Of The Fatherly Leader Part 6

One incident sounds suspiciously similar to Kim Il-sung's boyhood challenge to a Korean nationalist lecturer in Jilin. Jong-il purportedly got the better of a critic who complained that Kim Il-sung's emphasis on building heavy industry was keeping living standards down. The man had made the mistake of lecturing at the school attended by the Great Leader's son, who let him have his say before responding sternly, "Denying the necessity of making our own trucks and tractors totally runs counter to the idea of the leader." The lecturer, the loyal son insisted, should give a "correct explanation on this matter."

The poor fellow "turned pale, unable to answer anything as the audience got excited. Having realized the counterrevolutionary content of the lecture,' the pupils glared at the lecturer with an indignant eye. The scared lecturer, a stooge of factionalists, was at his wit's end and vainly rubbed his hands. He dismounted from the rostrum and hastily took leave." Thereupon the students looked up to Kim Jong-il "with boundless admiration and adoration." The lad responded by telling them: "We should think and act only in accordance with the ideas of Marshal Kim Il-sung anytime anywhere."26 Such stories are very hard to credit, and the question remains: Just how devoted was Kim Jong-il to Kim Il-sung? Kang Myong-do said the Kang clan's view was that the junior Kim had a love-hate relations.h.i.+p with his father.27 Kim Il-sung may have slighted the boy and his late mother by s.h.i.+fting affection to Kim Song-ae and her brood-but on the other hand, North Koreans, including Jong-il and his cla.s.smates, were taught to wors.h.i.+p the G.o.dlike Leader more and more fanatically during the years when the boy was growing up. The father's reflected glory alone gave Kim Jong-il the power that he seems to have relished using. Kim Il-sung may have slighted the boy and his late mother by s.h.i.+fting affection to Kim Song-ae and her brood-but on the other hand, North Koreans, including Jong-il and his cla.s.smates, were taught to wors.h.i.+p the G.o.dlike Leader more and more fanatically during the years when the boy was growing up. The father's reflected glory alone gave Kim Jong-il the power that he seems to have relished using.

Stretching credulity, but perhaps not totally unbelievable, is another story, proudly related in an official biography, describing a field trip to Pochonbo by Kim Jong-il and his schoolmates. Reaching the town, Jong-il insisted on making an immediate inspection of a bronze statue of his father, which the townspeople had erected on the site of the Great Leader's command post during the guerrilla a.s.sault on the town. "General Kim Il-sung, the brilliant commander of the anti-j.a.panese struggle, stood majestically looking at the enemy stronghold, with a binocular in one hand, just as he had appeared when he commanded the march into the homeland." The visiting students "stood solemnly and bowed with respect to the statue. Then they sang the 'Song of General Kim Il-sung' loudly in a chorus with a feeling of infinite reverence for the Marshal."

All of them, including Kim Jong-il, were "deeply stirred"-until, that is, Kim Jong-il started looking more closely at the statue, from various angles and distances.

A stern look came gradually into his face, but no one knew "why After a while he quietly asked the officials there if the statue was not too small. Upon the unexpected inquiry, the officials could not but feel embarra.s.sed, not knowing what to say. Then he said in a tone of anxiety that despite the fact that the leader was the peerless patriot and national hero who had defeated the j.a.panese imperialists on this land and regained the country, his bronze statue was too small, its representation was not made well and its location was too low in view of the surrounding area.His words were a great shock to the officials. Until that day numerous people had visited Pochonbo but no one noticed the defect. And the officials themselves, living in Pochonbo, could not discover its weak points, though looking at the statue almost every day. None but Kim Jong-il, who had no parallel in loyalty and was devoted to defending and carrying forward the fatherly leader's immortal revolutionary cause, saw the failure to erect the statue properly the moment he visited it. Only when they listened to what he said could the officials realize that they had failed to build the statue better, with greater respect. ... The officials dropped their heads low, feeling very sorry that there were weaknesses in their work of arranging the revolutionary battle sites and that this meant precisely a breach in their loyalty to the leader.28 As that field trip continued, it seems from official accounts that Kim Jong-il continued to throw his weight around. He wanted to visit Lake Samji, another site in his father's guerrilla saga, but a local middle-school student serving as a guide told him the road had not been built yet and there was only a rough path. Fine, said the fourteen-year-old visitor. His group would hike through the forest-and in the process would choose the route for the new road.

That was the time when Kim Il-sung's critics had dared to attack his personality cult. Kim and his sycophants rejected not only the criticism but the term "personality cult" itself, insisting they were simply promoting the party's "revolutionary traditions"-that is, remembrance of the feats of the Great Leader. Gazing at the forest of Mount Paektu (his "birthplace"), Kim Jong-il is reported to have uttered aloud-and, of course, "sternly''-a vow: "The anti-party, counterrevolutionary factional elements, although playing tricks to disparage the party's revolutionary traditions," would be defeated. To that end, "he said a road network should be laid out up to the ridge of Mount Paektu to link all battle sites in a chain," so that all North Koreans could visit them. Officials took his statement as an instruction and guideline for their subsequent work developing the sites for the throngs of loyal subjects who soon would be trooping there daily.29 If such stories seem to the nonNorth Korean reader to portray a spoiled-rotten brat shamelessly exploiting his father's position to get away with bossing grownups around, so be it. It is almost beyond doubt that Kim Jong-il himself approved every word before the publication of those accounts in the 1980s. Quite obviously he was appealing not to outsiders but, rather, to Korean wors.h.i.+ppers of Kim Il-sung. Nevertheless, the subsequent publication of those biographies in numerous foreign languages-projects on which he also would have had to sign off-suggests he had no sense that the behavior attributed to him would appear outrageous to many people outside the fold.

Kim Jong-il had a narrow and sheltered upbringing, subject to relatively few influences that would challenge the world-view he was developing as the son of the North Korean G.o.d-king. Although he spent his early years in the Soviet Union, the family moved to Pyongyang when he was only three. He spent most of the Korean War years in China-but was surrounded there by relatives and fellow members of the North Korean elite, not interacting much if at all with Chinese people and not learning the language.

Before finis.h.i.+ng high school, he did accompany his father to the Soviet Union, one of the few known instances of his traveling abroad. Indeed, the politically precocious seventeen-year-old actually involved himself in planning Kim Il-sung's itinerary for the trip, according to Hw.a.n.g Jang-yop, who traveled with them as party secretary for ideology. "When Kim Il-sung left the hotel in the mornings to attend to official functions, he would help his father to the door, bring out his shoes and personally put them on his feet. Back then Kim Il-sung was only forty-seven, enjoying robust health that was the envy of much younger men. However, he was still pleased by his son's act of taking his arm and putting his shoes on for him." During that trip the younger Kim took a supervisory role over his father's doctors, nurses and a.s.sistants. In the evening he would a.s.semble them and "ask them how they had served Kim Il-sung during the day and what they should do the next day." Jong-il "was particularly interested in me, and asked me a lot of questions," Hw.a.n.g said. "I felt that he was much too politically sensitive for a seventeen-year-old."30 Hw.a.n.g "had the premonition that Kim Jong-il would one day chase his uncle out and take over or climb even higher. Anything higher would have been inheritance of Kim Il-sung's power, but back then I did not dream that things would come to that." Hw.a.n.g "had the premonition that Kim Jong-il would one day chase his uncle out and take over or climb even higher. Anything higher would have been inheritance of Kim Il-sung's power, but back then I did not dream that things would come to that."31 Hw.a.n.g took the opportunity of that Moscow trip to suggest that the youth enroll in the party secretary's alma mater, Moscow University, but Kim Jong-il rejected the idea. "He said that politics should be learned from his father, and that he could not a.s.sist his father while studying abroad."32 He returned to Pyongyang to enroll at Kim Il-sung University. The official version has it that his decision was based on his "yM He returned to Pyongyang to enroll at Kim Il-sung University. The official version has it that his decision was based on his "yMci>e-consciousness": He realized that "his real learning and his textbooks were found in the reality of Korea and not in any other country"33 Perhaps that's not far from the real reason. For most of his life he had been known as Yura, but shortly before his high school graduation he is reported to have told cla.s.smates to call him Jong-il. Perhaps that's not far from the real reason. For most of his life he had been known as Yura, but shortly before his high school graduation he is reported to have told cla.s.smates to call him Jong-il.34 It may be that he wished to present a more Korean image so his father would not look ridiculous attacking flunkeyists for aping things foreign. But Hw.a.n.g came to believe that the youngster had developed ambition for his own career: "Considering his words and deeds from this time onwards, I believe that Kim Jong-il was more aggressive than his father in the process of power inheritance." It may be that he wished to present a more Korean image so his father would not look ridiculous attacking flunkeyists for aping things foreign. But Hw.a.n.g came to believe that the youngster had developed ambition for his own career: "Considering his words and deeds from this time onwards, I believe that Kim Jong-il was more aggressive than his father in the process of power inheritance."

Kim Jong-il "grew up in the royal family headed by an absolute dictator, and faced no obstacles in his path," Hw.a.n.g wrote. "Since his mother Kim Jong-suk's death in 1949 no one had any control over him." The lad "behaved like a prince," and was "a conceited child who flaunted his status as the son of the highest ruler among his friends. This tendency to do whatever he liked worsened as he grew and turned into the overvaulting ambition to make his father's power his own.35 As befits its ill.u.s.trious name, Kim Il-sung University was the country's most prestigious inst.i.tution of higher learning. It employed about six thousand faculty and staff members. Compare that number with a student body of ten thousand "and you'll see it's a very prominent school," one former student said. Known as the place where the country grew "pure particles for Kimil-sungism," KISU emphasized ideological studies even more than other universities did.

The official accounts describe Kim Jong-il's university career as brilliant. He took top academic honors. He led fellow students, both on campus and in the off-campus physical labor that was required of all North Korean students. And he "published some 1,200 works including treatises, talks, speeches, answers, conclusions and letters as a student"-publications that "concern matters of philosophy, political economy, history, pedagogy, literature and art, linguistics, law military science and natural science."36 In fact, his purported undergraduate writings, on topics such as "The Characteristics of Modern Imperialism and Its Aggressive Nature," did not draw official praise and start appearing in print until he had been picked to succeed his father in the 1970s. By then he commanded an enormous corps of writers, some of whom just might have had something to do, even retrospectively, with his prolific output. In fact, his purported undergraduate writings, on topics such as "The Characteristics of Modern Imperialism and Its Aggressive Nature," did not draw official praise and start appearing in print until he had been picked to succeed his father in the 1970s. By then he commanded an enormous corps of writers, some of whom just might have had something to do, even retrospectively, with his prolific output.

Kim Jong-il majored in political economy. Largely as a result of his choice, economics later became the most prominent of the university's departments. "A lot of people who graduated in economics have been promoted quite well," said a former math major at KISU who took the basic political economy course. "They learn socialist economics and a touch of capitalist economics. What you learn about capitalist economics is just what Marx said in Das Kapital Das Kapital. In other words, you get a critique of capitalism."37 On his first day at KISU young Kim humbly greeted professors and fellow students, taking off his cap and saying, "I hope I will learn a great deal from you." Within days, however, he is said to have begun criticizing the curriculum and the textbooks-and professors and deans, of course, had begun changing them according to his instructions.

For one thing, he did not see why it was necessary to include study of computation using the slide rule and abacus in the university economics curriculum. After all, students were supposed to have learned one of those tools, the abacus, before they got there; at the university level they would do their computation on adding machines. "Surprised at the keen insight" of that complaint, the dean not only revised the curriculum but took to having a private chat with Kim Jong-il after each of his lectures to see if his words had met with the very special freshman's approval.38 In rescuing North Korea's future economic managers from the drudgery of studying computation so they could concentrate on what he considered the really important parts of the curriculum, Kim Jong-il was following in the footsteps of his father and his father's mentor, Stalin. Both were known for their suspicion of mathematical and scientific evaluation of policies. In rescuing North Korea's future economic managers from the drudgery of studying computation so they could concentrate on what he considered the really important parts of the curriculum, Kim Jong-il was following in the footsteps of his father and his father's mentor, Stalin. Both were known for their suspicion of mathematical and scientific evaluation of policies.39 Mean-while Kim Jong-il saw to it that his KISU cla.s.smates were "afire with unquenchable ardor" for reading. Official accounts credit him with having started a movement in which every student was to read ten thousand pages a year-from books by and about Kim Il-sung. The younger Kim's rationale: "In order to make the Great Leader's revolutionary thought your own conviction, you must read his works ten or even twenty times until you grasp their essence, thinking deeply over the ideas conveyed by each phrase of his works." Soon-like Chinese with the little red book of Mao's quotations-they are reported to have been studying Kim Il-sung's works "no matter when and where, in libraries, while walking in parks and in their spare minutes in dining halls.40 Kim Jong-il joined the Workers' Party while a university student. He was not the leader of his party cell-or of the campus Democratic Youth League. Indeed, an authorized biography has it that the party cell chairman was so "greatly honored by mere registration of the distinguished name" that he told young Kim he could "do as he pleased regarding his life in the party." However, the account goes on, Kim rejected the offer, and throughout his university career he provided "a brilliant example" of the conscientious party member.

For example, he intervened to revise the cell's work plan when he saw that it had strayed from the main target into minutiae. Ashamed of their mistake, the committee members "dropped their heads." (The gesture evidently was becoming reflexive among North Koreans as the junior Kim more often deigned to offer his guidance to lesser mortals.) Kim also realized that "party-life review"-the criticism session so central to communist practice- was held too seldom. He proposed making it a weekly or even daily routine. "If we have it frequently, we will not have to keep our deficiencies for a long time before they are criticized as we do now," he explained. "We will be able to rectify them before they grow too serious." Oddly, there is no mention of any criticism of him uttered in such sessions, no listing of deficiencies he might have had.41 One story full of unintended ambiguity tells of news reporters who went to the campus in early 1963 to write up an award-"Double Chollima"- won by Kim's cla.s.s. Already, "Kim Jong-il was widely known as a young leader," says an official biography. "Various anecdotes about this were told widely. So the people desired eagerly to see him." The reporters asked to interview him, "because they had thought that the cla.s.s owed all its success to his energetic guidance." Kim Jong-il refused, however, explaining that it would be enough for them to "meet the comrades who have done good jobs." Finally he submitted to a brief interview, but was not very forthcoming. When they asked about his experience in guiding the cla.s.s's work to win the award, he answered that he had "nothing to say." After thinking a bit, he broke his silence only to the point of delivering a homily of a few words on the mission of youth to carry forward the revolution.

When the journalists suggested he pose for a photograph, he refused, asking: "Why should I have my picture published in the paper?" Instead he sent them away, "asking them to write a fine article and show it to him when it had been written." They complied-this was North Korea, remember, where reporters were mere mouthpieces for the regime. After he received their draft, he returned it to them-having marked for excision all references to him.

Although they failed to photograph him alone, the journalists did get a chance to take a picture of the whole cla.s.s. On that occasion they are reported to have asked Kim Jong-il to stand front and center. The story is that he refused, saying the places of honor belonged to the party cell chairman, the Democratic Youth League chairman and the cla.s.s monitor, who had "done a great deal of-work." The journalists insisted that having him stand in the middle was "the wish of the readers of our newspaper, the unanimous wish of all our people." Fellow students chimed in, urging him to stand in the middle. He refused, and the cameraman finally snapped the picture showing Kim Jong-il in "an obscure corner," second from the left in the central row.

The reporters were "deeply impressed with his infinite modesty," says his biographer. "On honorable occasions he always took the back seat, giving all honors to the ordinary students. In him they saw the great personality of a true leader who bears the brunt of all difficulties for the well-being of the people." That photograph, published in February of 1963, was the first one picturing Kim Jong-il to appear in the North Korean media. "This was how the dear leader whom the Korean people had craved to see so eagerly made a public appearance so unseemingly and so obscurely among fellow students. The people saw the image of their dear leader in this very humble picture.42 Right. Well, it sounds as if the regime, by the time the biography carrying that account was published, might have had to make a virtue of necessity. As we have seen, most of the stories officially told about him from the 1980s showed Kim Jong-il as the leader of his mates since his elementary school days. But here was his first published photograph and it showed him taking a back seat. What to do? Tell a story about his modesty, true or concocted.

Kim Jong-il may well have had ample cause for modesty that day. He was not the cla.s.s leader (although presumably he could have held whatever post he wanted-if higher-ups and he himself had thought at the time that he was destined to rule the country, and had realized it would look good on his resume for him to get his college-leaders.h.i.+p ticket punched on the way up).

It may have been true that real credit for the achievements in question belonged to others, whether he actually said so or not. Kim Jong-il was just growing out of adolescence, while a great many of his male cla.s.smates- more than likely including the leaders who did the real organizational work--were army veterans senior to him by several years, who had shown their mettle in the military and in party work before matriculating. I do not recall having seen the photograph in question, but other photos of him with fellow KISU students show a cherub-faced boy among lantern-jawed men.43 In the extraordinarily faction-p.r.o.ne and education-wors.h.i.+pping Korean culture, after the family there is no group as important throughout one's working career as cla.s.smates. However shamelessly Kim Jong-il might have played the big shot among ordinary strangers, taking public credit for efforts that others in the cla.s.s actually had exerted would not have endeared him to the Kim Il-sung University Cla.s.s of 1964. The cla.s.s was destined to be an important source of support for him. Perhaps he understood that much.

But there are other factors to consider in evaluating this story. First, the photographers were asking him to stand in the middle of the front row. Kim Jong-il was very short-perhaps five feet two inches (1.58 meters) when fully grown-and extremely self-conscious about it. In later years he would exert himself mightily to appear taller, wearing shoes with three-inch heels44 and teasing his hair up into a bouffant pompadour to add a few more inches. (The glorious career of China's even more diminutive Deng Xiaoping evidently provided him little if any consolation.) If Kim had stood where he supposedly was asked to stand that day in 1963, he might have been seen to be the shortest male in his cla.s.s. Photographers might not yet have gotten the word that they must routinely pose him standing slightly in front of others so that perspective would give an illusion of extra height. and teasing his hair up into a bouffant pompadour to add a few more inches. (The glorious career of China's even more diminutive Deng Xiaoping evidently provided him little if any consolation.) If Kim had stood where he supposedly was asked to stand that day in 1963, he might have been seen to be the shortest male in his cla.s.s. Photographers might not yet have gotten the word that they must routinely pose him standing slightly in front of others so that perspective would give an illusion of extra height.

Additionally, there are hints that young Kim had been going through a rebellious period. If his father-as seems likely-or someone else in the regime had decided it was a good idea to start publicizing him as a "young leader," perhaps he himself had not come to terms with the requirements of the public role being thrust upon him. And finally, his reluctance to be interviewed and to bask in public praise was not temporary. For decades to come he remained largely inaccessible to journalists, and repeatedly stayed out of the public eye for such long periods as to suggest an almost Howard Hugheslike aversion to the limelight.

Young Kim is described in one officially disseminated biography as having gone "deeply into the people" during his college days.45 The phrase is an accidental but telling double entendre: Those "people" seem to have been mainly young women. Nonofficial sources describe Kim the collegian as a ladies' man leading a rambunctious life. He started out living in the premier's mansion instead of the school dormitory, but serious family problems- especially conflicts with his stepmother, who would report to his father on his behavior-eventually kept him away from home for long stretches. Not eating properly he was expending his energies on love affairs to the extent that one professor, Kim s.h.i.+n-sook, decided the budding Don Juan needed better nutrition to keep up his health and stamina. Whether out of sincere concern or to earn brownie points, the professor acquired delicacies and fed them to Kim Jong-il. The young man, on that rich diet, began to grow chubby-eventually presenting a roly-poly contrast to the slim builds of most of his fellow North Koreans on and off campus. The phrase is an accidental but telling double entendre: Those "people" seem to have been mainly young women. Nonofficial sources describe Kim the collegian as a ladies' man leading a rambunctious life. He started out living in the premier's mansion instead of the school dormitory, but serious family problems- especially conflicts with his stepmother, who would report to his father on his behavior-eventually kept him away from home for long stretches. Not eating properly he was expending his energies on love affairs to the extent that one professor, Kim s.h.i.+n-sook, decided the budding Don Juan needed better nutrition to keep up his health and stamina. Whether out of sincere concern or to earn brownie points, the professor acquired delicacies and fed them to Kim Jong-il. The young man, on that rich diet, began to grow chubby-eventually presenting a roly-poly contrast to the slim builds of most of his fellow North Koreans on and off campus.

Rumors of wild partying, fast driving and s.e.xual escapades got around in Pyongyang. Perhaps it was partly for that reason that the regime eventually went to so much trouble to paint a contrasting picture. Jesus Christ as Eagle Scout, doing many a good turn daily-that pretty much sums up the official portrayals of the young Kim. China's communist propagandists once plucked from the ma.s.ses a previously anonymous do-gooder named Lei Feng, composed songs about him and taught children to emulate Lei Feng's selflessness. In North Korea the songs and tales of Kim Jong-il would serve the same function.

As in stories about his father, it seems people were constantly shedding tears at the astonis.h.i.+ng love, benevolence and selflessness Kim Jong-il unfailingly displayed. One of countless officially peddled anecdotes relates that a sickly youth whom he tended in the hospital and helped with studies "could not hide hot tears welling up in his eyes." Holding in his hands the cla.s.s notes that young Kim had copied out for him during his absence, the student "threw himself into the broad arms of Kim Jong-il and burst into sobs with his face buried in his breast. That was something too n.o.ble to be called mere friends.h.i.+p.46 Helping sick friends seems to have been a specialty. There is another story telling how young Kim prescribed and delivered medicine-"a cure-all"- for a female student suffering the aftereffects of a malnourished childhood in South Korea. "She burst into sobs," and her mother's eyes were "wet with tears." Needless to say, the young woman recovered.47 Exaggerated and over-dramatized they may be, but probably there is at least a grain of truth in some of the stories about kind gestures to individuals. Regarding his "prescription," for example, Kim Jong-il had access to the best medicines, many of which were unavailable to ordinary North Koreans. Considering that virtually everyone else let him have his way the pharmacists at the hospital for the top elite might well have let the youngster do the prescribing-perhaps of a tonic such as Korean ginseng. In the pattern of n.o.blesse oblige it would become his habit to present gifts-usually elaborate and sometimes wildly extravagant-to somewhat less fortunate people who happened to be his friends, supporters or underlings, or who otherwise were known to him. Exaggerated and over-dramatized they may be, but probably there is at least a grain of truth in some of the stories about kind gestures to individuals. Regarding his "prescription," for example, Kim Jong-il had access to the best medicines, many of which were unavailable to ordinary North Koreans. Considering that virtually everyone else let him have his way the pharmacists at the hospital for the top elite might well have let the youngster do the prescribing-perhaps of a tonic such as Korean ginseng. In the pattern of n.o.blesse oblige it would become his habit to present gifts-usually elaborate and sometimes wildly extravagant-to somewhat less fortunate people who happened to be his friends, supporters or underlings, or who otherwise were known to him.

But against whatever signs of a warm heart the young Kim displayed must be balanced some tasteless hijinks in which he humiliated others for his own amus.e.m.e.nt. An example is a story that a former member of the Pyongyang elite told me about Kim and his pal "Jerkoff" Choe.

Choe Hyon, a former anti-j.a.panese guerrilla, rose to become vice-president of North Korea and lived in the exclusive neighborhood of Changkw.a.n.gdong, near the premier's mansion. His son, Choe Yong-hae, grew up hanging out after school with Kim Jong-il and Kim's other buddies.48 After Kim Jong-il enrolled in the university and began his career of amour, he noticed that Choe Yong-hae was very shy and would not date girls. He suggested that Choe might not be a "real male." One day Kim Jong-il and his other buddies, with their girlfriends, were at Choe's house after cla.s.ses. Continuing to torment Choe, Kim demanded that he take his pants off. The boy complied, but Kim Jong-il pointed out his lack of an erection despite the girls' presence and suggested that Choe must be impotent. So he had other pals tie up Choe and told one of the group to ma.s.sage him. Disobedience to Kim Jong-il was unthinkable because of whose son he was, as well as fear that the disobedient one would become his next target for bullying. Those who had tied him up held the struggling victim down while the designated youngster duly complied with the instruction. When Choe became aroused, Kim Jong-il said: "Oh. You're capable. I'm satisfied. After Kim Jong-il enrolled in the university and began his career of amour, he noticed that Choe Yong-hae was very shy and would not date girls. He suggested that Choe might not be a "real male." One day Kim Jong-il and his other buddies, with their girlfriends, were at Choe's house after cla.s.ses. Continuing to torment Choe, Kim demanded that he take his pants off. The boy complied, but Kim Jong-il pointed out his lack of an erection despite the girls' presence and suggested that Choe must be impotent. So he had other pals tie up Choe and told one of the group to ma.s.sage him. Disobedience to Kim Jong-il was unthinkable because of whose son he was, as well as fear that the disobedient one would become his next target for bullying. Those who had tied him up held the struggling victim down while the designated youngster duly complied with the instruction. When Choe became aroused, Kim Jong-il said: "Oh. You're capable. I'm satisfied.49 Instead of Yong-hae, from that day forward Choe was known as Yong-du, "the head is moving toward the sky," a slang term for masturbation. He eventually became chairman of the Central Committee of the League of Socialist Working Youth, the body responsible for training and guiding prospective party members following their graduation from school. He held that post until 1997, when, according to a South Korean intelligence report, he was ousted for corruption. He was known to be a trusted crony of Kim Jong-il's- and very fond of women. His childhood pals had continued to call him Yong-du.50 Kim Jong-il may have grown a bit more serious as he became a university uppercla.s.sman and could see looming ahead his graduation into the North Korean top elite's version of the real world. Maybe his father had a heart-to-heart talk with him about his future and the need to settle down somewhat- perhaps even mentioning Jong-il's possible eventual succession to the top post. The younger Kim did not stop partying then, it is clear, but the official accounts have him accompanying his father on frequent trips for "on-the-spot guidance." In the course of such trips the junior Kim enthusiastically picked up his father's style of micromanagement. It is a style that unfortunately had reached, if it had not already long since pa.s.sed, the point of diminis.h.i.+ng returns for the economy.

One such story unintentionally shows that Kim Il-sung's originally admirable practice of going out to the boondocks to see the real problems of the people was becoming an empty ritual. Both officials and ordinary people wanted only to please the overburdened Great Leader without "troubling" such an exalted being with their problems.

Father and son, visiting a military outpost near the Demilitarized Zone in February 1963, split up for separate inspections. The junior Kim noticed that the only water supply was a dribble from an ice-covered spring. Mess hall, bathhouse and laundry were all out of commission on account of the lack of water. Kim Il-sung had already asked the soldiers if they had any problems. Oh, no, they said. They were living "literally in plenty." Then Jong-il approached the Great One to tell him quietly about the water shortage that the men had not mentioned, a problem that could be overcome with just a little pipe and pumping equipment. "These comrades say that they dared not request the material out of consideration of the nation's economic problems," he told his father, who immediately gave orders to solve the problem. "The next day found the arrival on that hill of many technicians and a large amount of pumping equipment, all sent by the Fatherly Leader. A fortnight later clear water began to gush forth." The soldiers felt "boundless respect" for Kim Jong-il.51 During a scorching lowland heat wave the following August, the Kims prudently chose to focus their guidance on remote Pungsan County, in the high, cool mountains of Yanggang Province. (The accounts do not say whether the premier's entire family, including Pyong-il and the other children, went along on that working summer vacation.) Kim Jong-il discovered that local children's lunchboxes were packed with potato cakes instead of the rice Koreans generally prefer. Imagining "the sorry faces of the mothers preparing the lunches for their children every day," he "perceived the still poor livelihood of the mountain folk, and judged the irresponsible work att.i.tude of the officials who were not so enthusiastic for the improvement of the people's standard of living." He pa.s.sed along his findings to his father, who called a meeting of county agricultural officials and set them right with instructions on soil building, planting suitable crops for the cold highland, damming the river to set up an irrigation system and exchanging the potatoes grown there for lowland rice. Hearing the Fatherly Leader point out "the bright road they should follow," the listeners cheered "at the top of their voices."52 In those instances Kim Jong-il kept his role to investigating quietly, advising his father of his findings and recommendations. One wonders, then, about the real feelings of an obsequious school official in Pungsan County when the college boy stepped out of the staff role and decided to guide the official directly in the work of running the Pungsan Middle School. Visiting the school's science laboratories, young Kim noticed that they were set up only for general teaching of the subjects, with nothing to help tailor instruction to the particular needs of the county. He advised collecting local soil samples and bringing in preserved specimens of local flora and fauna- asters, sheep, bull trout. That seems to have been sensible enough advice.

But then, "seeing that trunks of poplars around the playground had been mauled by axes and knives," Kim Jong-il said sports equipment should be provided to prevent mischievous boys from misbehaving. Additionally, he instructed that apple trees be planted on a bare hillside behind the school. Apples don't normally do well on such a cold highland, but Kim Jong-il "explained in detail" how to adapt them. That, he said, would be "very important in convincing the children that nothing will be impossible if they get down to implementing the leader's instruction to develop the highland to be as good a place as the lowland."

In a cla.s.sroom he found a gap in the floor. Frowning, "he exhorted the official to fill in the c.h.i.n.k lest a cold "wind through it in winter should make the children catch a cold." The school official, astonished that the young visitor had noticed something he himself had neglected, "bo-wed his head, ashamed of his failure to fulfill the duty as an educationist." A little later, "reluctant to part" with Kim Jong-il, the same official "begged him to give more instructions." Kim Jong-il then produced bark he had stripped off a birch tree in the schoolyard. (Evidently that was okay, although carving on poplar trees was not.) Using the birch bark as writing paper just as his father's anti-j.a.panese guerrillas supposedly had done, he dashed off seven pages of "precious instruction."53 Back at the university that fall, Kim Jong-il is reported to have set out to use what he had learned as the starting point for a graduation thesis on the role of the county. His father was then promoting the county as the key local government level at which to "resolve all problems arising in the building of socialism and communism in the countryside." A professor suggested that the topic was too ambitious for a mere bachelor's-degree thesis, requiring so much original research and argument that it would be more like a doctoral dissertation. The professor advised young Kim to be satisfied with a typical graduation paper proving socialist economic laws. However, "Kim Jong-il said smilingly that the validity of socialist economic laws had already been confirmed and that there was no use of proving it again. He continued: 'What we need is a correct way to carry on the revolution and construction. Many lectures at the university deal with something abstract and general, and lack in clarifying such a thing.'"

Sticking with his plan, the junior Kim worked hard studying his father's p.r.o.nouncements on rural economy and local industry, says an official biography. "At the same time, he himself toured different parts of the country to collect various data on politics, the economy and culture." That was, of course, a research opportunity not available to the usual North Korean undergraduate. He also had plenty of help from state agencies, normally stingy with statistics, as he "a.n.a.lyzed the facts consolidated by the State Planning Commission and economic guidance agencies."

After all that work, finally "he could give perfect answers to the questions raised in the revolution." In March of 1964, a few days before his graduation, he rose in a college lecture hall to deliver "an immortal work, 'The Place and Role of the County in the Building of Socialism.'" Needless to say "the audience loudly applauded him for his firm conviction, clear-cut a.n.a.lysis and cogent theory and his ideo-theoretical brilliance and convincing argument by which he solved the complex rural problem in an original way from the standpoint of juche." juche."54 As in the case of his other some 1,199 college writings, though, skeptics harbor doubt that Kim himself-wrote the thesis- or wrote it the way it was finally published, twenty-one years later, at a time when efforts to promote his personality cult were peaking. As in the case of his other some 1,199 college writings, though, skeptics harbor doubt that Kim himself-wrote the thesis- or wrote it the way it was finally published, twenty-one years later, at a time when efforts to promote his personality cult were peaking.55 But even if Kim Jong-il was not quite the Big Man on Campus that such official accounts make him out to have been, it does seem he was very much a presence at his university-and not only on account of-whose son he was. Partially overcoming his peculiar upbringing, he was developing some engaging qualities of his own. Perhaps he was learning something about human relations by-watching his father, a past master. Relations.h.i.+ps with cla.s.smates seem to have been relatively good.

According to a Bulgarian diplomat who was an exchange student at Kim Il-sung University, Kim Jong-il "loved to talk with friends," especially foreigners. Evidently, by that time he had acquired a proper aristocrat's set of manners. He seemed "not as arrogant as many sons of high-ranking officials in Bulgaria," Georgi Mitov recalled in a South Korean newspaper interview some three decades later. Young Kim's humility quotient was high enough, at least, to permit his becoming star-struck: Mitov was a famous volleyball player, and he thought that was part of the reason Kim Jong-il visited him in his dormitory often-so often that the Bulgarian sometimes had to pretend he was out.56 Another former East European diplomat has described the junior Kim in Joe College terms-soccer player, amateur pianist, at least normally intelligent student. Expanding on the latter point, a North Korean who knew him told me, "Although his mind is okay, it does not appear he studied much. There must be a strict teacher-student relations.h.i.+p for good education. Could there possibly be someone able to teach properly the son of Kim Il-sung?"

TWELVE.

Growing Pains Kim Jong-il, at the top of the pecking order, was by no means unique in the extent to which the experiences of childhood and youth depended on who his father was. All the way down the complicated North Korean cla.s.s hierarchy youngsters typically found their treatment, from even their earliest years, to be governed by the family's socioeconomic position, or songbun songbun - essentially the status of their parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles. - essentially the status of their parents, grandparents, aunts and uncles.1 Take Dong Young-jun, who grew up in privilege-although not even remotely near Kim Jong-il's level-in Bukchong, the big country town in North Hamgyong Province where he was born in 1965. "My family-was very well off," he told me. "Whenever I met people who were undergoing hards.h.i.+p or hunger, I felt especially thankful for my parents."

Dong's father worked as an investigator in "internal affairs," meaning he was checking up on his fellow North Koreans. Following the turmoil of the Korean War, "many people lied about their backgrounds," Dong explained. Employed by a secret police organization that in 1973 was renamed Department of State Security, his father "was digging up their true backgrounds." On the other side of the family Dong's mother, herself a doctor, had some good connections in Pyongyang. One of her cousins was a senior colonel working at a military academy. Another was a member of the Supreme People's a.s.sembly.

Dong grew up, he told me, as a "fanatic," idolizing Kim Il-sung and urging his schoolmates to do the same. "All through elementary school, junior middle and higher middle school, I was student body president. Even at the university I was on the student council."

At one point in our interview Dong asked if I minded if he smoked. I told him it was all right with me. He interjected then that he had grown up hating the United States. Now that he had defected to South Korea, though, "I think I actually like the United States," he told me. "Look, I have a U.S.-made lighter and I smoke Marlboros."

I asked when he had started smoking. His answer, totally unexpected, introduced me to a facet of North Korea that I had neither heard nor read about. He had started "at age eleven," Dong said. He explained: "In North Korean schools there are gangs that fight a lot. They consider the first boy to suffer a nosebleed the loser. They believe if you smoke a lot you won't get a nosebleed." So Dong the model student had led a double life, moonlighting as a member of a violent teenage gang? Naturally I wanted to know more, and Dong obliged me.

"Gangs are rated according to the social rank of the members' fathers," he told me. "These aren't formal groups, but this has been going on for years-for generations. In most cases, if your father is very high ranking you get the power. You hang out with kids from similar family backgrounds.

"You can't fight on the school grounds," Dong said. Rather, the gangs usually fought at sites where the students were doing the manual labor frequently required of them. "Or we would meet on Sunday by pre-arrangement, say near the Namdaechon River bank at such and such a time with such and such number of people. We might catch a dog around there and eat it, or hide and steal people's watches."

Dong told me he stayed in his gang until junior year in higher middle school. "But in senior year I studied very hard, so I could get into Pyongyang Engineering College."

My own very first article as a cub newspaper reporter in North Carolina, in 1969, was about a fatal fight between gangs supporting the basketball teams of two high schools. Of course, it made the front page of The Charlotte Observer. The Charlotte Observer. To hear Dong describe the fights with rocks and tools that went on in his community-an arm cut off, a skull broken in half-it was clear to me that some of them would be considered newsworthy in any country with a free press. In North Korea, however, although the official media on occasion referred vaguely to problems of young people's misbehavior, the regime did not like to s.h.i.+ne too bright a light on such rampant juvenile delinquency as Dong was describing. "It's never in the newspapers there," Dong said. To hear Dong describe the fights with rocks and tools that went on in his community-an arm cut off, a skull broken in half-it was clear to me that some of them would be considered newsworthy in any country with a free press. In North Korea, however, although the official media on occasion referred vaguely to problems of young people's misbehavior, the regime did not like to s.h.i.+ne too bright a light on such rampant juvenile delinquency as Dong was describing. "It's never in the newspapers there," Dong said.

Most interesting in Dong's account, I thought, was his description of the makeup of the gangs. "There were basically about four groupings throughout the grades," he said, and all of those were from the elite. "Ordinary people's children could hardly be part of the gangs. Say you had a fight and hurt someone. You'd go to prison. If your parents were influential, they could get you out. But the ordinary people would have no chance of getting out, so they didn't join.

"The leader of each gang was whoever had the most important father. The first group consisted of children of party or State Security men. The second group's members were children of people working in administration and technology; the third, military; the fourth, trade and commerce. I was part of the first group. Because our group was highest ranking and most powerful, the other groups would give us gifts like cigarettes. Normally the first group would fight the second and third groups. Often the second group fought the third."

And what were those fights about? Dong gave me an example. "In my district," he said, "there were a lot of special forces military men. The student who got his arm cut off was the son of a military man. The one who cut it off was the son of a technocrat. What happened was that the military man's son had just been transferred into the school and wasn't part of a gang yet. Kids can be very cruel to newcomers in school. People in the second group kicked him around and beat him up badly. The military kids took offense, even though he wasn't yet part of their gang. The whole gang got into the fight. That was in 1977, at the Namdaechon River bank. We were a.s.signed there to collect pebbles. One guy hit a military kid with a sharp-edged spade and cut his arm off. It was completely severed. I saw it. We always sharpened the spades so they would slip easily into the ground. I was twelve years old then, and so was the kid who got hurt.

"The incident of the split skull I didn't see. It happened a year later at the same site, during the night. In that case it was a fight with kids from another school. A guy on the other side had his skull split-again, with a sharpened spade-and died."

So what happened to the young authors of mayhem and murder? "If the victim's father was of higher rank, the perpetrator would be in serious trouble," Dong said. "And if the perpetrator's father was of higher rank, things would be hushed up. The guy who cut off his opponent's arm got only three weeks of forced labor. In the case of the killing I described, the perpetrator had his head shaved and was sent to prison. He stayed only ten days, though. His father was so prominent, he was just sent to another school."

When I asked, Dong told me that from what he had heard his experience was not peculiar to his locale. "All over North Korea there are gangs like this. I don't know about the degree of brutality. Even in Pyongyang there are gangs, but they're closely watched. If there's a fight between two groups there and the authorities find out, the leader and his family are sent to a prison camp. Chongjin, Rajin and Hamhung are the worst places. Gang fighting originated with Koreans from j.a.pan, who tended to settle in those areas. Lots of Koreans who moved from j.a.pan are people who got in trouble in j.a.pan and then were sent to North Korea. They were accepted because they had money."

I have no confirmation of Dong's observation that banis.h.i.+ng troublemakers was a significant factor when ethnic Korean families in j.a.pan decided who among them would repatriate to North Korea. However, it is true that for decades many of the gangsters in j.a.pan were people of Korean ancestry. (That was, at least in part, a reflection of the Korean minority's mistreatment by the j.a.panese majority.) So I was curious to know whether the North Korean gangs followed the rituals of the j.a.panese underworld yakuza. yakuza. "No, they don't cut their fingers off or tattoo themselves," Dong told me. "But they do p.r.i.c.k their fingers and hold them together to become blood brothers." "No, they don't cut their fingers off or tattoo themselves," Dong told me. "But they do p.r.i.c.k their fingers and hold them together to become blood brothers."

Dong told me that the name of his gang was a Korean word that means downpour or deluge. "Every member of my gang wore formal shoes-leather shoes with laces. Of course, the other kids had only cloth shoes. Leather shoes were rare. Just by wearing those, we showed we had prominence."

The shoe discussion led Dong to digress away from the topic of gang life into courts.h.i.+p customs. For a son, son, the arranged and rather formal first date between a man and woman of marriageable age, he told me, "a guy might borrow leather shoes to impress the woman." the arranged and rather formal first date between a man and woman of marriageable age, he told me, "a guy might borrow leather shoes to impress the woman."

It took me a moment to realize that Dong was relating a standard North Korean joke, whose humor derived from its essential if not literal truth about the material advantages of the elite. "The three things you need for that first date are leather shoes, a Seiko watch and a gold tooth," Dong went on, getting wound up. "Sometimes you would even borrow the gold tooth. At night the guy would take the girl to a bright spot and show those things off as he made arrangements for the next meeting. He would say, 'We have to meet tomorrow at eight,' and he would tap his Seiko watch. 'We have to meet here.' here.' He would tap his leather shoe on the ground so she would look at it when he said 'here,' and then he would grin widely at her so the light would glint off his gold tooth." He would tap his leather shoe on the ground so she would look at it when he said 'here,' and then he would grin widely at her so the light would glint off his gold tooth."

As Kim Dae-ho grew up he had a life quite different from Dong's-except for the fact that he also became a juvenile gang fighter. Born across the border in China in 1959, Kim was a member of an ethnic Korean family. He formed few memories of China before his parents, motivated by patriotism, moved the family to South Hamgyong Province in North Korea when he was three. His father went to work in a food factory. His mother stayed home to keep house and care for Dae-ho and his younger brothers, of whom eventually there were three.

The parents quickly realized that the lifestyle they had left behind in China was more prosperous, and they "couldn't forget" about the differences, Kim told me. "In China we had candy stored in the kitchen for snacks"-but not in North Korea. "My mother used to cry when, as an elementary student, I ripped my pants and she had to mend them. We were so poor. That's why she cried."

Starting his education with nursery school and kindergarten, where he began to learn about Kim Il-sung's greatness, little Dae-ho soon came to wish he had an elder brother. "When I got in a fight, a kid with his elder brother could beat me up."

Worse, Kim Dae-ho recalled being subject to "invisible discrimination from fellow pupils with more stable backgrounds. Having no relatives in North Korea I was at a disadvantage. You have to write a paper on your family. Other people could write about a father in the party, an uncle on the Central Committee. I had no relatives and my parents weren't party members, so the discrimination continued."

Not only other children but also teachers and officials meted out different treatment depending on a pupil's family background, Kim Dae-ho told me. "Even when looking over our home-work the officials would praise children of high officials." (Recall the slavish praise of Kim Jong-il by his teachers.) The highlight of a youngster's life was supposed to be donning the bright kerchief of a member of the children's corps. Even there, though, "the children of the elite got in earlier. There were two inflows of eight-year-olds. The first group got in on April 15, Kim Il-sung's birthday. I was part of the second intake, on June 6. The reason given for letting the first group in early was that they were better students, brought up more uprightly."

Kim Dae-ho blamed such discrimination for having affected his personality. "I became rough and aggressive. I beat up children of high officials and disobeyed the teacher often." He grinned and added: "Since I was very rough, kids were afraid of me and the teachers didn't know what to do with me." Mean-while some older youngsters were bullying him in turn. Junior high students, some of them repatriated from j.a.pan, had formed gangs. "I did some dirty work for them, got on trains to steal from people, did some shoplifting. You couldn't say I was a gang member, because I was only about ten years old. They would bully me and demand that I bring money from home."

Eventually each group gave him something serious to think about. "In third grade I bullied so many kids that my cla.s.smates decided to gang up on me. I realized then that kids no longer feared me. They would throw stones at me, or spit at me." The older gang members, around the same time, "took me to the railroad, stripped me to my underwear and made me lie on the track."

After thinking things over, the boy gave up his pose of ferocious loner in hopes of becoming a leader. "I made friends and created my own gang," he told me. Indeed, from the sound of it-and despite his lack of family connections to fall back on in the event of punishment-he seems to have become a junior-grade G.o.dfather in Tanchon, the South Hamgyong Province city-where he lived. "I retaliated against gang members who had used me. As I got older they came and asked for food or tickets. I got my revenge by ordering my gang members to beat them up. I had friends not only in my own school but in all the schools of the city. At a parent-teacher conference, teachers told parents to keep their kids from a.s.sociating with me. But if the kids obeyed, I'd beat them up. So parents would come up to me and ask for good treatment for their kids."

Members of gangs "mostly were children of high officials and more prosperous people who came from j.a.pan," Kim Dae-ho told me. "Even in my group, lots were kids of high officials." As for weapons, "in elementary school we used rocks. In the upper grades we learned taekwondo taekwondo and fought with our fists and feet. I had a fight with the son of a military security officer. The kid brought a knife, so I asked my friends to bring me one. They brought me a straight razor. The kid ran away He didn't come to school the next day; by coincidence he died of accidental gas poisoning. Otherwise, there was the occasional minor stabbing but n.o.body got killed in our fights." and fought with our fists and feet. I had a fight with the son of a military security officer. The kid brought a knife, so I asked my friends to bring me one. They brought me a straight razor. The kid ran away He didn't come to school the next day; by coincidence he died of accidental gas poisoning. Otherwise, there was the occasional minor stabbing but n.o.body got killed in our fights."

Due to his family's unhappy circ.u.mstances, Kim Dae-ho told me, he was slow to develop feelings of wors.h.i.+p for the country's leader. But when he reached sixteen he realized that his career choices might soon start to narrow very drastically. The dream of most North Korean males was to join the army. That was the standard route to becoming members of the party and, when they were mustered out following a decade's service, being considered for responsible civilian jobs.

Only youngsters of acceptable cla.s.s background by North Korea's standards, and whose "loyalty" was unquestioned, would be accepted into the army. Kim Dae-ho s family background was merely undistinguished; it was not positively bad as it would have been if, for example, his forebears had been big landlords or prominent collaborators with the j.a.panese colonial regime. But his credentials were lacking in the personal loyalty department, so he proceeded to immerse himself in the organized adoration of Kim Il-sung. Still he found that ordinary expressions of loyalty wouldn't persuade the army recruiters "because I was known as a gang leader."

So what did he do? "I went to the recruitment center and wrote an oath in my blood," Kim told me. The oath read: "I will sacrifice my life for the nation and I will do my best in the army."

When I interviewed Kim Dae-ho he was slender and appeared rather studious. To look at him, he was no Bruce Lee type. It had been a little difficult for me earlier in the interview to picture him taking the lead role in a real-life North Korean version of West Side Story. West Side Story. Now I suppose my jaw must have dropped as I wondered whose idea the blood oath had been, and about Kim Dae-ho s sincerity in signing it. When I asked him, though, he didn't hesitate to reply. "I truly believed in it and it was my idea to write it in blood," he told me. Now I suppose my jaw must have dropped as I wondered whose idea the blood oath had been, and about Kim Dae-ho s sincerity in signing it. When I asked him, though, he didn't hesitate to reply. "I truly believed in it and it was my idea to write it in blood," he told me.

The blood-oath gesture had the desired effect. Kim entered the army in 1976 and became an artillery spotter, stationed near the front line in Kang-won Province. He was promoted to sergeant and singled out as a model soldier, honored with a chest full of commendation medals. When he finished his army service in 1985, his record qualified him for something that at first glance might have looked better than the farming or coal-mining jobs to which most army veterans were a.s.signed: He went to work for an atomic energy agency. We shall hear more from him in a later chapter.

A third North Korean who talked with me about juvenile rumbles was Ahn Choong-hak,2 who said that the gang fights sometimes involved as many as fifty or sixty boys at a time. But Ahn added that there had been a crackdown starting in 1974. It "became a social issue. The authorities suggested that South Korean spies were organizing the violence. Partic.i.p.ants were portrayed as dissidents. So people became afraid to join in and by 1976 gang fights disappeared, as far as he knew." who said that the gang fights sometimes involved as many as fifty or sixty boys at a time. But Ahn added that there had been a crackdown starting in 1974. It "became a social issue. The authorities suggested that South Korean spies were organizing the violence. Partic.i.p.ants were portrayed as dissidents. So people became afraid to join in and by 1976 gang fights disappeared, as far as he knew."

Before that happened, Ahn was involved in his share of youthful hijinks. But I think his personal story mainly goes to show that one's family background could be very good-yet still not good enough.

His family had quite good songbun, songbun, which is precisely why the Ahns were relocated to Kaesong, near the Demilitarized Zone, in 1961. As we noted briefly in chapter 6, their move was part of a ma.s.s s.h.i.+ft of families of "good" background to replace large numbers of locals, who were s.h.i.+pped north to live in remote areas where there was less danger that they could be enlisted to serve the enemy. Kaesong had been under South Korean rule until the Korean War, and the families that were moved out were considered suspect or worse in terms of loyalty to the North Korean regime. which is precisely why the Ahns were relocated to Kaesong, near the Demilitarized Zone, in 1961. As we noted briefly in chapter 6, their move was part of a ma.s.s s.h.i.+ft of families of "good" background to replace large numbers of locals, who were s.h.i.+pped north to live in remote areas where there was less danger that they could be enlisted to serve the enemy. Kaesong had been under South Korean rule until the Korean War, and the families that were moved out were considered suspect or worse in terms of loyalty to the North Korean regime.

Ahn found the atmosphere in Kaesong "always tense. There were always rumors of spies caught around our area. People from other provinces weren't allowed to enter freely. When I was in third grade, the teacher who had taught me in first grade suddenly disappeared. I heard other teachers say it was because she was the daughter of a landlord's concubine. I had felt a special affinity for her."

Ahn's father was a university-trained civil engineer (his education alone signaling elite status) who traveled a lot in his work. Ahn's mother tailored suits at home. Alas, Kaesong did not suit her. She was constantly ill, blaming the city's "bad water." When Ahn was a fourth-grade pupil, his father managed-it was difficult-to get the authorities' permission to move the family back to their home city, Hamhung.

If the second move pleased his mother, it didn't help the emotional well-being of the son. "Kids in Hamhung made fun of my Kaesong dialect, which is almost like Seoul dialect," Ahn told me. He reacted, as children often do in such circ.u.mstances, by becoming a troublemaker. "My dad disciplined me a lot for misbehavior. He didn't want the whole family resettled on my account."

Ahn's boldest exploit came in the first year of senior middle school when he and two friends decided to go to the capital. North Koreans were not allowed to travel without permits. In particular, the regime was at great pains to avoid migration or casual travel from the outlying areas to Pyongyang, a city of strictly controlled population that served both as seat of the top echelons and showcase to foreigners.

"We got on a train secretly" Ahn told me. "In the restroom of a North Korean train, above the toilet, is a loose wooden plank. There's a s.p.a.ce above it, under the ceiling. We hid there and replaced the plank. But Public Security is on to that trick. The police caught us when we reached Sunchon. They took us off the train and planned to send us to a rehabilitation center for a month. But there was such a big crowd of offenders waiting for the bus that we were able to escape. We walked to Pyongyang and stayed four