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North Koreans think the
unthinkable
By Andrei
Lankov
SEOUL - For decades, the commonly
accepted truth of North Korea watching was that
the North Koreans do not rebel. It was widely
believed that after decades of Stalinist-style
rule - arguably, the harshest and purest form of
such rule the world has ever seen - the North
Koreans were almost incapable of any acts of open
resistance to authority. Some observers explained
this presumed docility by citing the intense
brainwashing that allegedly conditioned the North
Koreans into a robot-like mental state, while
others believed the reason was ingrained terror.
At any rate, more or less everybody agreed that an
open revolt in North Korea was unthinkable.
Then the unthinkable happened.
This was not exactly an outbreak of
revolutionary violence, of course. On March 30,
soccer teams from North Korea and Iran were
playing a World Cup qualifying match in
Pyongyang's Kim Il-sung Stadium before an
estimated 50,000 fans. The outcome pretty much
would determine whether North Koreans would be
able to continue competing for the World Cup, so
everything was at stake for them, the robots or
terrorized population.
In the middle of
the game, there was a heated argument between a
North Korean player and a referee. Passions boiled
over and Korean defender Nam Song-chol shoved
Syrian referee Mohamed Kousa. The player was sent
off, as is customary in such situations.
And then the violence erupted. The North
Korean fans began to throw bottles, chairs and
everything they could find at the Iranian players
and referees. It took a few minutes before order
was restored while the stadium loudspeakers
demanded that fans stay calm.
The game
was resumed and the North Korean team eventually
lost 2-0, but the violence continued for almost
two hours after the match. There were clashes
between police and fans, and for a longtime Iranian
players could not leave the stadium because of the
unruly and outraged crowds outside. Eventually,
order was restored, but the Iranian team's coach
Branko Ivankovic told Reuters news agency: "We
felt our lives were not safe. We tried to get on
the bus after the game, but it was not possible.
It was a very dangerous situation."
The
official Korean Central News Agency described the
match and inserted in the official report an
unusual sentence: "At the end of the match, all
the spectators were angered and vigorously
protested the wrong refereeing by the Syrian
referee and linesmen."
Meanwhile,
Japanese soccer organizations have demanded that North
Korean authorities improve security for a coming
match with Japan's team. They also expressed
concerns about the personal safety of Japanese
fans, some of whom are likely to fly to Pyongyang.
As soccer riots go, the
Kim Il-sung Stadium incident was definitely a
moderate affair. Pyongyang "rioters" were very tame
in comparison with like-minded fans in, say, Britain.
There is also nothing new in the emergence
of soccer hooliganism in a communist country; after all,
the first soccer riots in the Soviet Union occurred
in the 1970s - and initially they were relatively
small-scale affairs, not unlike the violence in
the Pyongyang stadium.
However, the
violence in Kim Il-sung Stadium has major internal
political implications that in the long term are
probably far more important than all the justified
worries of the Japanese fans. A soccer riot itself
is hardly an exceptional event, but it is truly
unusual that this time the violence erupted in
Pyongyang, where residents for decades could not
even think about breaking the public order and
disobeying police and soldiers.
Youth
gangs have been a part of North Korean society
since the 1970s, if not earlier, but those street
toughs seldom challenge the authorities - instead
they fight with other gangs over territory. But
this was very different: for the first time in
some 50 years a large group of North Koreans,
acting openly and in the presence of foreign
journalists and camera crews, dared to challenge
the representatives of authority - police and
soldiers. For decades, anything like this would
result in severe punishment of culprits and their
families. In the days of North Korea's founding
father Kim Il-sung all people involved would lose
the right to dwell in Pyongyang and would be
banished to the countryside, while the real or
alleged ringleaders would face far more serious
punishment.
The soccer violence
and defiance of authority once again are a reminder
that North Korea has changed - not so much as a
result of deliberate reforms, but because of the
steady erosion of its once formidable system of
social control. Eleven years have passed since the
death Kim Il-sung. Despite all attempts to
perpetuate the Great Leader's system, the nation's
deep economic crisis is gradually undermining
North Korea's "national Stalinism". The state
economy has ceased to function, so for many years
most Koreans have relied on handicraft and small
commerce for their survival. In their daily life,
they are much less dependent on the will of the
Communist Party than they had been for decades.
Officials and police apparently have lost much of
their zeal as well, so now they are often ready to
look the other way, especially when there is an
opportunity for a small bribe. The scope of state
terror has been reduced and many acts that once
would have sent the culprit to an extermination
camp now go unpunished, or are only lightly
punished. So sooner or later something like the
football riot was bound to happen.
Pyongyangites have demonstrated that they
are able to fight with police over the outcome of
a soccer match. But what will come next? Does
this not mean that one day they will react in a
similar manner to a sudden price hike, the arrest
of a popular personality, or a case of perceived
police brutality. Many years ago Alex de
Tocqueville wryly observed that a bad government
faces the greatest danger not when it is in its
worst state but when for whatever reasons it
weakens its grip over the people. It seems that
the North Korean state is easing or losing its
grip, so the unruly crowd in Kim Il-sung Stadium
might be yet another a sign of things to come.
At any rate, the assumption that North
Koreans will always remain docile has been shown
to be very wrong. And this is an assumption on
which South Korea's entire "Sunshine Policy" - its
embrace of northern brethren - is based.
Supporters of the Sunshine Policy, so
enthusiastically promoted by South Korean
President Roh Moo-hyun, believe it will be
possible to reform North Korea gradually along the
same lines as China and Vietnam and avoid its
collapse. The supporters of this idea, however,
assume that North Koreans will be patiently
waiting for decades until their living standards
approximate the level of the affluent South
Koreans, and only then will unification will take
place, in the most pleasant transition. This might
be a good idea, but it is based on a postulation -
usually implicit - that North Koreans will be
unable and/or unwilling to challenge the regime
and do what East Germans once did. After that
afternoon of March 30 in Pyongyang, all bets are
off; this dubious presumption appears even less
likely.
Dr Andrei Lankov is a
lecturer in the faculty of Asian Studies, China
and Korea Center, Australian National University.
He graduated from Leningrad State University with
a PhD in Far Eastern history and China, with
emphasis on Korea, and his thesis focused on
factionalism in the Yi Dynasty. He has published
books and articles on Korea and North Asia. He is
currently on leave, teaching at Kookmin
University, Seoul.
(Copyright 2005
Asia Times Online Ltd. All rights reserved. Please
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