The most important rule in the world of
theater is to keep the attention of your audience.
If they become distracted or bored, if they start
to fidget in their seats, the illusion of the
spectacle is at risk. Once word gets out that you
can't deliver as a playwright or a director, the
audiences dwindle - and fewer people are
interested in your next offering.
North
Korean leaders have always understood the
importance of theater. The founder of the country,
Kim Il-sung, created several productions - such as
Sea of Blood and The Flower Girl -
that translated the regime's ideology into simple,
stirring stories for the masses. His son and
successor, Kim Jong-il, fancied himself a film
director and brought his father's works to the big
screen. Theater and film offered an enhanced
version of North Korean
reality, a place where good
always triumphed over evil and mistakes could be
airbrushed out of existence.
The North
Korean leadership has used its nuclear program for
theatrical purposes from the very beginning. It
has relied on the spectacle of rocket launches and
covert nuclear facilities to keep the attention of
its foreign and domestic audiences. It hasn't paid
much attention to the critics and their punitive
responses. As long as North Korean citizens were
dazzled and foreign leaders riveted, the nuclear
program accomplished its aims.
Even so,
until recently, North Korea's record has not been
stellar. It conducted two nuclear tests that have
still left some doubt as to whether the country
properly belongs within the nuclear club. And its
three previous long-range rocket launches,
ostensibly to put a satellite into orbit but also
to test three-stage missiles, failed to achieve
their objectives.
Still, Pyongyang's
theatrical capabilities have been brilliantly
showcased. Over roughly the same period, Iran
successfully launched three small satellites and
didn't garner anywhere near the same attention
from the media or the international community.
North Korea, despite spectacular failure, has kept
its audiences at the edge of their seats.
And now, finally, it seems that North
Korea has managed to get something into orbit. The
Kwangmyongsong-3 satellite is apparently above our
heads providing weather updates and broadcasting
propaganda songs.
For audiences at home,
the rocket launches have a special significance
lost on most outside observers. This year marks
the 100th anniversary of the birth of the
country's number one playwright, Kim Il-sung. This
month marks the one-year anniversary of the death
of the country's number one director, Kim Jong-il.
The government has been promising the population
for nearly a decade that it will soon achieve the
status of a militarily strong and economically
prosperous country.
A successful rocket
launch meets both these goals, at least
superficially. The rocket suggests that the
country has sufficient deterrent capabilities to
prevent hostile countries from repeating a Kabul
or Iraq scenario with Pyongyang. And only the most
economically advanced countries are able to launch
their own satellites into orbit.
Of
course, North Korea remains near the bottom of the
world's economies, and its much-vaunted military
power doesn't really match up to South Korea's,
not to mention the United States.
But
theater is all about creating illusions. The
rocket launch creates an illusion for the people
of North Korea that they live, if not in paradise,
then at least in a country that holds its own
against many adversaries.
Theater is also
about sustaining spectacle, which is why the
nuclear program continues to engage an
international audience. The North Korean
leadership knows that although the country
occupies a critical place in the geopolitics of
Northeast Asia, the international community would
pay it little attention were it not for
Pyongyang's nuclear program. It's the fundamental
mystery of North Korea's intentions and objectives
that continues to engage outside observers.
This isn't very different from what keeps
audiences in a theater paying attention. They want
to know what happens next. North Korea is always
keeping us guessing.
By contrast, the
United States and its allies are rather
predictable. In response to North Korea's
satellite launch, the Obama administration will be
pushing for even tighter sanctions against
Pyongyang. This is tantamount to a theater critic
who adds even more disparaging comments to a
review of a particular play in the hope that the
negative notices will shorten the run of the
production. But if the play continues to engage
audiences at home and abroad, the producers will
ignore these sanctions.
If Washington
wants to change the dynamic with Pyongyang, it's
going to have to do something unpredictable of its
own. Instead of pursuing its failed policy of
"strategic patience", the Obama administration
should try learning some theatrical lessons from
Pyongyang.
By engaging North Korea in a
comprehensive deal that brings the isolated
country into the international community, the
Obama administration could create a spectacle of
its own.
It's not about persuading North
Korea to give up its one big theatrical prop.
Pyongyang is as reluctant to give up its nuclear
program as the producers of War Horse are
unlikely to jettison their equestrian puppet.
Rather, it's about ensuring that North Korea
doesn't use whatever it has and cooperates with
international institutions to improve its economy,
political structures, and human rights record.
But that requires Washington to stop
acting like a passive audience and actively engage
with North Korea. "No drama" Obama, in other
words, has to think creatively - and theatrically
- about how to alter the script and create a
different kind of gripping narrative for the
people of North Korea.
John
Feffer is currently an Open Society fellow in
Eastern Europe. He is on leave from his position
as co-director of Foreign Policy in Focus.
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