By Andrew Salmon
From the Pyongyang command bunker, it must be intoxicating.
At Kim Jong-un's command, clockwork battalions prance across the square named after his grandpa, displaying a mastery of precision drill that makes the Brigade of Guards look like boy scouts. At the press of a button, missiles soar into the stratosphere, nuclear devices shake the earth.
Upping the shock and awe, battalions of wordsmiths in the Korean Central "News" Agency hammer on keyboards, churning out menacing vitriol, warning of impending apocalypses and imminent Armageddon.
The young dictator has seized attention globally. Despite the fact that Kim (or whoever is pulling his puppet strings) presides over probably the world's least respected nation, the world is taking him seriously. In fact, the world can't get enough of him.
Overseas journalists eagerly regurgitate the latest KCNA release, often taking the drivel at face value. Editors around the globe and diplomats around the region are all-a-quiver, waiting to see what ― shudder! ― Kim does next. Even Psy's new release has been overshadowed by Pyongyang's pie-loving dictator.
Given the lack of any actual military movements by the Nork legions, bold fellows like your columnist are maintaining stiff upper lips. But I seem to be in a minority.
Normally cool-headed South Koreans are spooked at the volume and longevity of Kim's saber rattling. My Doris told me that during a recent meeting of mums at our daughter's school, the main topic of conversation was which nearby subway station offered the deepest shelter ― just in case the missiles come howling in.
Even old Korea hands are going wobbly. My chum (and fellow KT columnist) Jack Burton told me a couple of weeks ago, "I won't worry until they close the Gaesong Industrial Complex." Now that has actually happened, Mr. Burton has not soiled his trousers, but I fancy he may have a few more gray hairs in his beard. And I recently overheard him and ex-KT columnist Mike Breen discussing evacuation scenarios.
Meanwhile, foreign players are reportedly bolting the local bourse, the won is under downward pressure and the Americans are flying in nuclear-capable aircraft and John Kerry.
This is perplexing.
I understand that incoming newsmen are under pressure to file alarmist copy and overseas editors lack the discrimination to filter KCNA fantasy from hard fact. But South Koreans are customarily blasé about Pyongyang's threats, and long-term expats rarely get cold feet. International investors factor North Korea risk into their investment strategies, and Washington has been listening to North Korean ranting for decades.
In short, Kim has not just seized the attention of the world, he has succeeded in giving a lot of usually level-headed people the vapors. This is impressive.
Don't get me wrong: I am not praising Kim. (If I were ― even in this enlightened republic ― I might expect a knock on the door at midnight and an invitation to join a couple of dark-suited gentlemen in their car for a drive to, and a chat at, an "undisclosed location.") For let us remember that while the world puzzles over "Pyongyangology" ― perusing KCNA bulletins, scrutinizing missile sites and deciphering the activities of Kim and his henchmen ― millions of our fellow humans are suffering appalling hardship and tragedy.
A significant percentage of North Koreans are malnourished. Others may be starving; medicines are in short supply. Hundreds of thousands are assigned to brutal gulags without due process and joined by their families, found "guilty by association." Travel and information flow is severely limited.
So one hates to call Kim in any way admirable, but he has played a poor hand masterfully.
His boutique military threats ― special operations chaps and strategic missiles ― appear formidable, but his main force is rusting. He could not win a war, and if he ever detonates a nuclear device on soil other than his own, he is kaput. Beyond threats, he is irrelevant in global affairs: His nation is a diplomatic pariah, an economic basket case, a political anachronism, a social disaster.
Given this, his game is increasingly asymmetric. Bluster and measures such as shuttering industrial parks, nullifying the armistice, severing hotlines and (maybe) ordering cyber attacks have had a psychological impact worldwide and caused real financial damage to South Korea.
Yet despite his declarations, Kim has not unleashed war. In fact, unlike his father and grandfather, he has not fired a single bullet.
What he has done, is launched a war of words. And he is winning it.
For economic management and statesmanship, Kim gets a D; for humanity, a Z. But when it comes to visibility raising, media terrorism and diplomatic poker, one has to (grudgingly) award him an A+.
Andrew Salmon is a Seoul-based reporter and author. Reach him at andrewcsalmon@yahoo.co.uk.
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At Kim Jong-un's command, clockwork battalions prance across the square named after his grandpa, displaying a mastery of precision drill that makes the Brigade of Guards look like boy scouts. At the press of a button, missiles soar into the stratosphere, nuclear devices shake the earth.
Upping the shock and awe, battalions of wordsmiths in the Korean Central "News" Agency hammer on keyboards, churning out menacing vitriol, warning of impending apocalypses and imminent Armageddon.
The young dictator has seized attention globally. Despite the fact that Kim (or whoever is pulling his puppet strings) presides over probably the world's least respected nation, the world is taking him seriously. In fact, the world can't get enough of him.
Overseas journalists eagerly regurgitate the latest KCNA release, often taking the drivel at face value. Editors around the globe and diplomats around the region are all-a-quiver, waiting to see what ― shudder! ― Kim does next. Even Psy's new release has been overshadowed by Pyongyang's pie-loving dictator.
Given the lack of any actual military movements by the Nork legions, bold fellows like your columnist are maintaining stiff upper lips. But I seem to be in a minority.
Normally cool-headed South Koreans are spooked at the volume and longevity of Kim's saber rattling. My Doris told me that during a recent meeting of mums at our daughter's school, the main topic of conversation was which nearby subway station offered the deepest shelter ― just in case the missiles come howling in.
Even old Korea hands are going wobbly. My chum (and fellow KT columnist) Jack Burton told me a couple of weeks ago, "I won't worry until they close the Gaesong Industrial Complex." Now that has actually happened, Mr. Burton has not soiled his trousers, but I fancy he may have a few more gray hairs in his beard. And I recently overheard him and ex-KT columnist Mike Breen discussing evacuation scenarios.
Meanwhile, foreign players are reportedly bolting the local bourse, the won is under downward pressure and the Americans are flying in nuclear-capable aircraft and John Kerry.
This is perplexing.
I understand that incoming newsmen are under pressure to file alarmist copy and overseas editors lack the discrimination to filter KCNA fantasy from hard fact. But South Koreans are customarily blasé about Pyongyang's threats, and long-term expats rarely get cold feet. International investors factor North Korea risk into their investment strategies, and Washington has been listening to North Korean ranting for decades.
In short, Kim has not just seized the attention of the world, he has succeeded in giving a lot of usually level-headed people the vapors. This is impressive.
Don't get me wrong: I am not praising Kim. (If I were ― even in this enlightened republic ― I might expect a knock on the door at midnight and an invitation to join a couple of dark-suited gentlemen in their car for a drive to, and a chat at, an "undisclosed location.") For let us remember that while the world puzzles over "Pyongyangology" ― perusing KCNA bulletins, scrutinizing missile sites and deciphering the activities of Kim and his henchmen ― millions of our fellow humans are suffering appalling hardship and tragedy.
A significant percentage of North Koreans are malnourished. Others may be starving; medicines are in short supply. Hundreds of thousands are assigned to brutal gulags without due process and joined by their families, found "guilty by association." Travel and information flow is severely limited.
So one hates to call Kim in any way admirable, but he has played a poor hand masterfully.
His boutique military threats ― special operations chaps and strategic missiles ― appear formidable, but his main force is rusting. He could not win a war, and if he ever detonates a nuclear device on soil other than his own, he is kaput. Beyond threats, he is irrelevant in global affairs: His nation is a diplomatic pariah, an economic basket case, a political anachronism, a social disaster.
Given this, his game is increasingly asymmetric. Bluster and measures such as shuttering industrial parks, nullifying the armistice, severing hotlines and (maybe) ordering cyber attacks have had a psychological impact worldwide and caused real financial damage to South Korea.
Yet despite his declarations, Kim has not unleashed war. In fact, unlike his father and grandfather, he has not fired a single bullet.
What he has done, is launched a war of words. And he is winning it.
For economic management and statesmanship, Kim gets a D; for humanity, a Z. But when it comes to visibility raising, media terrorism and diplomatic poker, one has to (grudgingly) award him an A+.
Andrew Salmon is a Seoul-based reporter and author. Reach him at andrewcsalmon@yahoo.co.uk.
