|
PYONGYANG
WATCH Stop fief: Was Sinuiju
thought through? By Aidan
Foster-Carter
It's not what you'd call subtle.
Certainly not tactful, nor in good taste after September
11. Hardly great art, either. The crudely drawn poster,
its style taken from war comics, shows what is
unmistakably the Capitol building in Washington,
crumbling under an onslaught of fierce red rockets. A
tattered and torn Stars and Stripes flutters helplessly.
Just in case we still don't get it, the caption, in big
chunky Korean letters, screams: "If someone starts a war
of invasion, we'll crush the American bastards first!"
This charming little piece hangs on the wall of
a shoe factory in Sinuiju, North Korea. And doubtless in
many another grim workplace, to keep the popular masses
seething with patriotic hatred. But Sinuiju was where an
Associated Press photographer snapped it recently. This
grey northwestern border city, across the Yalu river
from China's bustling Dandong, is the newest of many
surprises Kim Jong-il has sprung lately.
This
time the Dear Leader has a sidekick. Yang Bin sounds
like quite a character. Not yet 40, an ex-officer in the
Chinese navy, in the 1980s Yang fled to Holland where he
got asylum, an education, and Dutch citizenship. Later
he came home, and built a Shenyang-based orchid and
property empire that has made him one of China's richest
men. He doesn't dispute Forbes' estimate of a net worth
of around $900 million.
Clearly not a man to
duck a challenge, Yang now has a country to run, kind
of. On September 19, North Korea announced Sinuiju would
be a Special Administrative Region (SAR). Five days
later Yang Bin was sworn in as its first governor, and
lost no time in telling the world that pretty much
anything goes. The present inhabitants, for a start:
they'll all have to move out, to make way for half a
million of the brightest and best, and not just North
Koreans, either.
Foreigners are welcome, and
will even be a majority on the SAR's legislative
council. The police will be foreign too. So will the
money: dollars, yuan, whatever you've got. No border
duties, no capital controls. Yang promises "a completely
private and free capitalist society". How the
legislative council will check Yang's boundless
ambitions is just one of many mysteries. Not content
with expelling the population (really free, huh?), he
doesn't care for the buildings either: "I plan to
demolish everything." Only historic monuments will be
spared - including, no doubt, the statutory statue of
Kim Il-sung that looms over the town, floodlit by night.
(Those naughty locals had a go at that, a while ago:
someone stole the copper cable for scrap, plunging the
Great Leader into gloom. The culprit was shot.)
What's more, this all starts right now.
Visa-free entry from last Monday, promised a breezy
Yang. So of course, assorted intrepid hacks from South
Korea and Japan swarmed to Dandong to be first into the
new free North Korea.
And did they get in? Nope
- because China wouldn't even let them out. Clearly Yang
hadn't bothered to square all this with Beijing, with
whom he isn't exactly best buddies anyhow. China has
probed him for tax evasion; while on the very day
Sinuiju was declared, a rather better known SAR, Hong
Kong, banned trading in his Euro-Asia Holdings for a
week after suspicious shifts in its share price. But
Yang's new job doesn't mean he plans to drop the old
one. How, he asked rhetorically, can he give up his own
child just because he now has a new daughter-in-law in
the family?
That patriarchal metaphor seems apt
for a deal which suggests a feudal fief more than free
enterprise. Transparent appointment procedures? Er, not
exactly. Yang is frank: "It was Kim Jong-il's idea. They
didn't seek anyone else." In the past two years Yang's
flower power expanded from its Shenyang base into North
Korea, and he caught the Dear Leader's eye. The pair
have been plotting this since January.
What was
it that appealed? The white socks? The high-roller
gambling in the foreigners-only basement casino at
Pyongyang's Yanggak-do Hotel? The personal jet parked at
Sunan airport? Or that $900 million? Whatever, this
choice says a lot about Kim Jong-il's judgment. Yang may
have flair and drive, but he seems to be making this up
as he goes along. He doesn't even have an office in
Sinuiju yet. The Korea Times quoted a vexed Chinese
official: "Yang Bin cannot be a reliable person to shoot
from the hip."
And where does this leave other
fiefs? In similarly feudal manner, the Dear Leader once
gave Kaesong - Korea's ancient capital, just north of
the Demilitarized Zone - to the Hyundai group founder,
the late Chung Ju-yung, as a reward for his pioneering
tourism ventures. (Actually he tried to offer him
Sinuiju, but Chung wasn't having it: too far from South
Korea.) Kaesong is a plum site, a potential Shenzhen if
and when the border opens; but then North-South ties
were frozen, so a bare site it remains. Now the start of
work for real on cross-border road and rail links has
put Kaesong back on the agenda - or had, until suddenly
Sinuiju came out of left field. How many new investment
zones can North Korea take, all at once? Has Kim Jong-il
had cold feet, and decided it's safer to open towards
China than to Seoul?
For a state that remains
nominally a bastion of central planning, this doesn't
exactly sound like joined-up government. On Thursday, US
Assistant Secretary of State James Kelly flies into
Pyongyang for the first proper US-DPRK talks of the Bush
administration. He's in need of credible assurances that
all this axis of evil stuff is a regrettable
misperception; or at least that it's over now, Kim
Jong-il is a man of peace, and his massive arsenal is up
for negotiation. When Associated Press (luckier than
most) slipped into Sinuiju, they found that most people
didn't even know about Yang Bin and his plans to evict
them.
But dear oh dear, couldn't Pyongyang have
got on the phone and told them to lose that poster,
fast, and for good?
(©2002 Asia Times Online Co,
Ltd. All rights reserved. Please contact content@atimes.com
for information on our sales and syndication
policies.)
|