David Tizzard is a professor at Seoul Women’s University, holds a PhD in Korean Studies, and hosts the Korea Deconstructed podcast. He has lived and worked in Seoul for more than two decades. Reach him at datizzard@swu.ac.kr.
The little red books of North Korea
Courtesy of Kelly Sikkema
By David A. Tizzard
In the department stores of Pyongyang, you will find a whole host of items for sale. These places are, on the whole, relatively well-stocked ― even carrying what looks like versions of IKEA furniture (though one would rightly question the legality of them being there). One of the more curious items for sale, however, is a little red book. Hardback and, at first glance, no different from any other diary or notepad you might find elsewhere in the world. Yet these little red books serve a special purpose: they are used for carrying out one's “life review” (saenghwal ch'onghwa). For this reason, the books are empty. A simple white canvas on which a person can confess their shortcomings and, at the same time, praise the higher powers tasked with guiding them.
Although the red books are blank and contain nothing other than empty pages, a visitor to Pyongyang is not allowed to buy one. Even emptiness is off limits to us. The books rest above a sign stating as such, tantalizingly close but yet forever forbidden. You can, however, find some examples of them online if you get your Google terms correct.
A life review doesn't sound too extraordinary to those of us used to the mind-numbing boredom and bureaucracy of modern capitalism, assigned readings of the meditations of Marcus Aurelius at school, or diligently following the instructions of the various self-help books so that we might find our inner penguin. However, the life review is a weekly duty for the people of North Korea. Where we might keep a diary or a journal in which to document our lives and seek to better ourselves for personal reasons, in North Korea the reasons are far more extrinsic. Instead of counting calories or cheat days, this is about monitoring one's ideological purity. Citizens are required to document where they have fallen short in their day-to-day actions, specifically related to the 10 guiding principles to which they are asked to adhere. People are also tasked with criticizing others based on these standards. If this already feels akin to a religious practice, that's because it is. However, although there is a clear Christian influence, particularly in the number of principles and the requirement for weekly confession, there is nothing that explicitly regulates a person's sex life or diet.
The Ten Principles for the Establishment of a Monolithic Ideological System (Dangui yuilsasangchegyehwangnibui 10dae wonchik) were first published in 1974 and serve a singular goal: unquestioning loyalty and obedience to Kim Il-sung, Kim Jung-il, and, now, Chairman Kim Jong-un.
It's not about faith in the one God above and forsaking all false idols, but instead a selfless devotion to the leadership of the country. You can find the Ten Principles online, including information on how they've changed over time. The most recent 2013 edition begins with the following admonition: “We must give our all in the struggle to unify the entire society with Kimilsungism and Kimjongilism.” Imagine being so influential in society your very name becomes an “ism”?! Seven of the 10 principles feature those names. This illustrates the nature of the “personality cult” that exists in the country. The ruling family are the embodiment of the state. It is a theocracy in all but name. Those 10 principles, and the documents and pamphlets on which they are written, act as the most important document to a North Korean on a daily basis. And yet despite this importance, the 10 principles are not written on banners around the city. They are hidden from outsiders' eyes. The real North Korea remains, as it always has, for North Koreans only.
It is worth saying something about this type of life. A life that many of us are not only unfamiliar with, but may simply never even comprehend. It is not, for example, South Korea under the military dictatorships of the 1980s. That was a time when certain topics were off limits (mostly the North and Marxism), but for the most part citizens were free to do as they please. Life in North Korea, however, even today is something entirely different. It is a life we will never understand. Like a frog trying to communicate with a scorpion.
In the British Secret Intelligence Service archives is a letter from the KGB double-agent Oleg Gordievsky to the MI6 director Sir Maurice Oldfield. In an effort to describe his decision to ultimately reveal the inner workings of the Soviet Union to their erstwhile Cold War enemy, as well as the psychological toll it took on the inhabitants of Moscow, Gordievsky said, “The decision has been preceded by a long spiritual struggle and by agonizing emotion, and an even deeper disappointment at developments in my own country and my own experiences have brought me to the belief that democracy, and the tolerance of humanity that follows it, represents the only road for my country. The present regime is the antithesis of democracy to an extent which Westerners can never fully grasp.”
Obviously the Soviet Union is not North Korea and Pyongyang is not Moscow. The countries however share deeper connections than many casual observers may realize. The story of the North Korea starts with the Soviet occupation of the country. The responsibility of turning a zone of chaos into a functioning national unit was given to the Soviet 25th Army under the command of Colonel-General Ivan Chistyakov. North Korea was born in a time of political and social anarchy as ideological and regional factions sought power. Rather than portraits of the Kims, images of Stalin and Lenin use to adorn the walls of power. To centralize operations amidst the chaos, it was the Soviet Marshal Kirill Meretskov who chose Pyongyang over Hamhung as the nascent state's capital.
The same desire to regulate the control of information continues today in North Korea as it once did in the Soviet Union. It is psychological. It is physical. And it takes place in empty little red books that we're not allowed to buy.
To learn more about these books, listen to Jacco Zwetsloot share stories about his visits to Pyongyang on the latest episode of
the Korea Deconstructed podcast
.
Dr. David A. Tizzard (datizzard@swu.ac.kr) has a Ph.D. in Korean Studies and lectures at Seoul Women's University and Hanyang University. He is a social/cultural commentator and musician who has lived in Korea for nearly two decades. He is also the host of the Korea Deconstructed podcast, which can be found online. The views expressed in the article are the author's own and do not reflect the editorial direction of The Korea Times.