Every day, from Monday to Saturday,
more than 24 million people work to maintain the socialist
machine of North Korea. This is the present-day result of
a unique political experiment that’s been running
for almost 70 years. It’s all at the expense of an
isolated and subjugated people. Or, as those we spoke to
during our visit prefer to say, ‘A people protected from the
outside world by the leader.’ ‘The Sun of Korea’ is how the
great generals are referred to in children’s songs. Kim Jong-un’s exact age is a
mystery, even to North Koreans. Like his father and grandfather
before him, the young general is head of state in a country at war. A country with a growing economy. And a country which,
however cautiously, is gradually opening its doors
to investors and tourists. But at the same time, remains
inaccessible and mysterious. Pyongyang, the flatland. It’s the centre of power for
the North Korean regime. The capital city and the
face of the republic, it’s where we’ll spend
most of our time in this almost completely unknown
and isolated country. A few months ago, biology
professor Kim Chol Ho was given the keys to his new home. He now lives in one of the most
modern buildings in Pyongyang. At the entrance is a poster reminding
citizens that, at any time, they should always be ready to show respect
to the great leader, Kim Jong-un. Inside, we’re given a warm welcome
by the proud owners of the large 240 metre flat. A gift from the marshal to
his indispensable scientists. ‘It’s an incentive to work harder
and more quickly,’ says Chol Ho. A sickle, a hammer, and a brush in
the centre of Pyongyang symbolise the solidity of the country’s only
political party to hold power. Almost 90% of all members of
parliament belong to the workers’ party. The remaining seats are taken by
representatives with the dependent social democratic
and Chondoist parties, but have no real power. There’s also a handful of
so-called ‘independent’ members. The last parliamentary election
was held earlier this year. Kim Jong-un was re-elected as
a deputy with 100% of the vote from the same assembly that chose
him as the country’s supreme leader. That was two weeks after the
death of his father, Kim Jong-il, eternal general secretary
of the workers’ party. Kim Kyo Sun is a farmer,
just like his father before him. He has worked at the Mikok
Collective Farm for 8 years. He joined after leaving the army where 10 years of service is
obligatory for almost all men. Working to uphold the system and
achieving goals set by the government is a question of honour. Agricultural workers are
constantly reminded of this by propaganda that’s widely distributed
throughout the collective farms. Loudspeakers, broadcasting
rousing music and speeches, call farmers
to their daily work. Students with revolutionary
flags and flowers take turns to boost
the farmers’ morale. The slogans encourage
everyone to be patriots and surpass the entire world. Or at least to follow the
Great Marshall’s example and contribute as much effort as he
does, to ensure that his people thrive. Certificates on the offices
of this glass factory proudly honour employees
of the month and year. Last month, Oh Yong Nam broke not a
single sheet of plate glass while packing. He considers that an acheivment. Students pursue the same goals. At least that’s what’s said
in front of a camera. ‘To serve my country,’
says Ji Chung Hyok. In this case, he’s talking about
technological research. He’s on his way to study at
the country’s main library, ‘The Grand People’s Study Palace.’ Even prisoners are bound
to contribute to the stability and development of
the North Korean system. The exact number of convicts is
something else that’s kept secret. The punishment for any
felony is compulsory labour or, for less serious offences,
community service. That’s what we were openly told by
Alejandro Cao de Benós, from Spain. As president of the Korean
Friendship Association, he cooperates with the government. He helped sort out all the issues
we had to face to enter the country, and he’ll accompany us
throughout this trip. Fields, construction sites, and mines
are the most common destinations for prisoners sentenced
to punitive labour. A foreign ministry official recently
confirmed to a handful of journalists that there are, indeed, special
camps for this kind of labour. Some agencies say, ‘Their
purpose is to reform criminals.’ High treason and subversion
carry the death penalty. General Jang Song-thaek
was executed last year. He was the young marshal’s uncle
and thought to have been his mentor, the second most important
figure in the country. A military tribunal
accused him of corruption, and plotting to topple the
revolutionary North Korean regime. Our visit ends in Pyongyang’s
victorious war museum. Special effects and music portray the
exploits of the People’s Army and their struggle against their southern
neighbour and the United States. The latent conflict lasted
more than 60 years, and North Korea commemorates the end of
military action with a grand annual parade, demonstrating its military prowess. ‘Victory Day,’ as it’s known here,
marks the armistice in the Korean War. Last year saw the 70th
anniversary parade, where, as well as missiles, tanks, and troops, for the first time ever, Kim Jong-un used
the occasion to demonstrate to the world, that North Korea had successfully
produced its own drones. There are more than a million
soldiers in the regular army, not including the highly
militarised police. More than 15% of GDP
is spent on the military. Mangyongdae Revolutionary
School even prepares children. For the regime, the army is a source
of inspiration and above all, order, defining the precise military way
in which the society is organised, a society on constant
full combat alert. This is a country based
on military ideology, absolutely everything is literally
imbued with combative spirit. A metro system more than a 100 metres
deep was constructed in the 1970s with help from the USSR and China. This underground space
would serve as a refuge in the event of a nuclear attack. A gigantic sculpture graces the
southern exit from Pyongyang, where two women symbolise
Korean reunification. On official maps, North
and South are marked as a single country called the
Korean People’s Democratic Republic. Just 3 hours drive along
a run down, but wide, spectacularly clean and
practically empty road, takes you from
Pyongyang to the border. This highway with
limited access could also be used for military maneuvers. From time to time, you
encounter army checkpoints, where filming is strictly forbidden. Locals wait patiently in
line to show their permits to pass through the barrier. Panmunjom village is where Lieutenant Colonel Nam Tong Ho delivers military history lectures for visitors. This would seem to
be one of the most important tourist
attractions in the country. According to the guide, in this very hall and
at these very desks on July the 27th, 1953, North Korea and the USA
signed the armistice agreement without the participation of the South. It was a precarious
non-aggression pact, that should ultimately have
led to a final peace treaty, but never did. There are no South
Korean soldiers to be seen along that clearly marked
military border today. It’s said they keep it
under surveillance using binoculars and cameras, or remaining where tourists won’t see them. Technically, a state of war still exists between the parties, following the conflicts that resulted in millions of casualties and
ravage to the peninsula. Several metres away, a group
of American Christians, some of South Korean descent,
pray for reunification. There are now huge differences
between the two sides, historic, economic, and cultural. Even the language has begun to differ. But families living on
opposite sides of this divide still try to preserve ties
between close relatives torn apart by war. It’s a painful issue
that’s often used as a bargaining chip in talks
between Pyongyang and Seoul. Dozens of people from the South, all selected by drawing lots, came to the mountains in Compang
region in North Korea’s east coast in search of brothers and sisters nephews and even children they were never given the opportunity to know. After several years, in February, family members separated by war are granted just 3 days to see each other. For many, it's their last chance. I don't, involve, any of the politics or, any of the, um, religion part, but we just wanted to; this is a one country, and this is a one people. On her second trip to the country in 8 years, Mrs. Lee met us in Kai Sung, the next stop after our trip to the border. First trip was very sad. It was really dark, no lights. You know, during the, um, the meal time, lights go off like 5-6 times, and there are no, um, smiles on peoples' face, but, um, now I think it's, uh, economically changing, but I think, uh, some, something life, some kind of life is coming back. The differences between Kai Sung and Pyongyang are striking. This city is one of the few examples of direct economic cooperation between North and South. The only joint industrial complex is based here. It encompasses over a hundred South Korean companies, employing 53 thousand North Koreans. Kernel Kim Chan-yun comes with us to the so-called "Demilitarized Zone," which ironically is one of the most
heavily armed areas in the world. He's talking about the wall erected on the South Korean side. It was completed in 1979 and Washington
and Seoul deny its existence. Though they do acknowledge there are certain
anti-tank facilities in place. This 4 kilometer wide natural barrier
divides the peninsula. South Korea looms in the distance. Seoul
is a little over 50 kilometers away. From here on the North Korean side, and
using the Colonel's binoculars, we're able to see South Korean military bases,
flying UN flags on the opposite side. We can also see what the North Koreans
are talking about: a five meter high wall stretching from east to west. Chan-yun can take pride in just how much trust the marshal vests in him, keeping him posted on the main border, and in his 40 years of continued service in the
People's Army. Revolutionary policy in the DPRK is
based on the principles of Songun, meaning military first; a philosophy that
reached its heyday during Kim Jong Il's reign, that lasted more than 20 years. The more time passes, the more complex
and controversial the concept becomes. A 170 meter tower keeps this fire burning
at the monument to Juche. Idealogically, a permissive and slightly spiritual
adaptation of communism ascribed to Kim Il-sung. It promotes national and personal self-reliance, or rather, reliance on the masses who are dubbed the masters of revolution
and national development. Although the ideology may seem controversial and
mysterious, and even dangerous to foreigners, it is constantly referred to. The state-endorsed image of utopian
self-reliance and self-sufficiency is in stark contrast to economic reality in
the country, which remains dependent on outside help and suffers from an acute
shortage of currency. Cargo ships sail into the locks of the East China Sea
bringing goods from China, still the main supplier of provisions and aid received
through international assistance. Last year, more than 2 million people in
the DPRK benefited from United Nations aid. Chinese goods fill the model supermarket
shelves in Potonggang, alongside locally manufactured products which
serve as an example of the country's economic prowess. The closest estimate was from the Bank
of South Korea. According to Seoul, its northern neighbor demonstrated 1.1
percent of economic growth in the last year. However, as is so often the case, Pyongyang
has released no official data. Small shops and food distribution centers
where local people pick up their monthly food rations didn't feature in our
itinerary. We were also warned not to film
construction sites and especially construction workers, many of whom are
servicemen. They told us that work when smeared with cement, would give a false
impression of the country. However, we were allowed to film, from
afar, this footage of the Teachers Tower in the capital, along with the construction of a new
terminal building and tarmac at the airport. Renovation of them made the
first football stadium and construction of the five star Ryugyong hotel, housed
in the tallest building in Pyongyang; which is still underway after 27 years of work; plus many other buildings and complexes,
whose construction was initiated by Kim Jong-un. So, we started construction of this museum in September 2012, and under the wise leadership
of the pristin, I, I mean and the West leadership of the
marshal Kim Jong-un, we finished the construction within only
ten months. The museum and the weapons expansions outside and all the
renovations, the monuments, everything was now
within only 10 months time. The news block at the state-controlled TV channel
focuses entirely on the country's economy. The biggest share of North
Korea's GDP is from industry and mining, followed by the service sector and
agriculture, which isn't enough to meet the population's needs. Slightly over
fifteen percent of the land can be farmed. Tourism and disguised foreign investments
are sources of foreign currency badly needed in the country living with
sanctions and economic war. Tourists are only allowed to pay in
Euros, US dollars, or Chinese yuan. They have to pay higher tourist prices.
The few foreigners who visit the country, many of whom are Chinese, are constantly
accompanied by one or several "guides". Tourists can't leave their room in the
47-story hotel, complete with five restaurants and a souvenir shop and walk
unattended to the casino in the basement; it's leased by a company from Macau. Only
twice did we get the chance to walk the streets of Pyongyang. The rest of the
time we were chauffeur-driven in a minivan. Every morning and night, several times a
day, this disturbing melody can be heard playing on the many loud speakers in Pyongyang's railway station. Newcomers are immersed in a nightmarish
atmosphere: a funeral march serving to remind all who pass through of the great
eternal generals. Every visitor to the capitol brings
flowers. They must pay their respect to the colossal bronze statues standing at
the top of Mansu Hill. North Koreans say that they are required to perform the
ceremony each and every time they visit any city. A quite remarkable number of literary
works are attributed to the great generals. The national library contains the
selected outstanding works of the founder of the nation. There are more than seven hundred
volumes of Kim Il-sung's speeches, books, and plays. One of the best known by the
eternal president is a speech calling on the people to support his son, Kim
jong-Il, who would soon take over from his father. It's almost three years since Kim
Jong-il died. Throughout that time his image has been closely linked with that
of his father, the eternal president. Kimilsungia
orchids and Kimjongilia begonias grace all public gardens and civic buildings.
Images captured by a camera have to be perfect. The taking of partial pictures of the
general's statues or photographs marred by lens flare is strictly forbidden. North Koreans all wear special insignia
near their hearts. The badges bear portraits of the leaders,
and among other things they show the wearer's merit and how close they are to
the government. We were told that the hardest to obtain
depicts the smiling faces of Kim Il-sung and Kim Jong-Il together. Buildings are generously adorned with
their portraits. There are two separate but identical halls, each of which contain the leaders in
embalmed bodies. The council's own mausoleum represents
the apotheosis in the leader's cult. Photography inside is strictly
forbidden. Two seemingly endless moving walkways are decorated with the generals'
pictures, portraying their lives and work. They lead to pharaonic marble holes,
containing the mummified leaders, surrounded by treasured objects from
their respective eras: Armored trains and cars, an array of medals and
decorations, even a huge map giving a detailed account of their travels. North
Koreans dressed in their finest clothes and flock in their hundreds to the mausoleum.
Earlier today, our film crew was among them. We'd asked that North Korean worker for his
thoughts about the new leaders rule. Leaning on a cane, Kim Jong-un reappeared in public after
being absent for a month and a half. North Korea's mass media attributed his
low profile to his indisposition. The disappearance coincided with our visit,
although we only learned of it when we left. The leader, though, didn't seem to
have become subject to rumor or gossip, and the few who are lucky enough to see
him at close quarters were thrilled. At that time, I were, it was too sudden to see, him. So, uh...uh...I can feel it, it was real, so I thought, uh, it wasn't just like it was real, I felt like "Is it, is it just a dream?" or something like that.
Later he passed across in front of me and then I knew that I really met him. In real life. For most though, daily contact with the exalted leader is limited to the opening minutes of the
evening news broadcast, which is a rule to report his latest activity. When Kim
Jong-un didn't appear in public, the bulletins aired recordings of previous
official engagements. A sample of what was said when we were able to interview people on the
street. Even though this was outside our planned
itinerary, no spontaneous responses were forthcoming. Our attendance carefully
selected the people we could talk to, and particularly sensitive topics were very
much off limits. Ideological upbringing and loyalty to the regime begin with early childhood. The first kindergarten in North Korea
was reorganized during Kim Jong-il's rule. It's open from Monday to Saturday to
accommodate the children of working mothers. In one school whole, three and
four-year-olds put on a performance for newcomers. Five children sing a heroic song, telling
how their beloved leader became a steel commander, because ever since he was a child, he
understood the importance of military force. During a revolutionary history lesson,
the teacher shows a model of a fantasy paradise where they say Kim Il-sung was
born. They repeat the place and date of his birth. "He was born in spring just
like magnolias," says the teacher. During a science lesson, pupils are told a story about how the
great generals once sent children tomatoes, pears, and grapes that they had
personally picked themselves. A squirrel and a hedgehog are the heroes
of the most popular children's cartoon. Agile and smart, North Korean squirrels fight their
enemies: ferrets and mice. The quality of animation has been
acknowledged internationally. That's why overseas studios higher
Korean animators in Pyongyang at very low rates to work on their films. The International Movie Festival in
Pyongyang provided the pretext that allowed our crew to secure an invitation
to enter North Korea. "The Flower Girl" represents the classics of North
Korean cinema. The screenplay was written by Kim Il-sung
when he was 20. It was made into a movie 40 years ago,
and is now one of the five greatest revolutionary operas. It's the story of a young girl from a
poor family who was suppressed by a wicked landlord during Japanese
occupation. On the banks of the Taedong river that
cuts through the city, everyday life overshadows the exotic and mysterious
atmosphere enveloping North Korea. Oblivious to the international headlines,
three boys try their luck at casting lines from the riverside, while another
family takes to boating. Local teams are replaying a classic game,
a match between Barcelona and Real Madrid. But this is the volleyball version; it's
one of the most popular sports in the country. People pay a visit to the Changyuan beauty and aesthetics parlor on Wednesdays. A poster displayed near the
entrance to the salon features the most popular women's hair styles. The women usually wear heels and will
never let their hair down if it's too long. Among the styles most often
recommended by men's hair dresses, is the one sported by the country's leader. There's no place for extravagance here
either. Excessive attention is paid to order,
cleanliness, and symmetry in the capital city's streets. The harmony and serenity that prevail in
the city are there to conceal the controlled lifestyle that North Koreans
must observe. The highly paternalistic policy of the
state prescribes exactly what citizens must hear, read, and see. Using these computers in the People's
Palace of Education, access to the country's intranet is easy. It's a localized network isolated from
the outside world full of sex in American propaganda as one North Korean
resident told us. The internet is available to a select few: scientists and
research workers for example. In 2014, Pyongyang by night has little in
common with how it was described a few years ago. The main avenues are brightly
illuminated with neon lights and street lamps. Although smaller residential areas and
streets do succumb to darkness when night falls. Some members of one very popular band,
graduated from this conservatory, considered the most important in North Korea. They say that the five members of the
Moranbong Band were personally hand-picked by the current leader, Kim
Jong-un. The first woman's pop band looks more rebellious than its lyrics
actually suggest. This represents something of a departure from the norm
in the country: meticulously arranged and monotone
aesthetics. In Spain, and a year before preparing for this trip, we spoke to Choe and other aerial
artists. Few ever represent their country
abroad like they do. Or even earn foreign currency for the system like workers laboring in the Middle East. Not many get the chance to see anything
beyond North Korea's tightly sealed borders. One plane filled with workers took off
for Kuwait on the day I was landed in Pyongyang. On our way to the hotel, we stared around
the unfamiliar streets, certain that we'd be able to gain some insight into the
most unknown country in the world. Ten days later, we knew different. An
impermeable barrier separating us from them blurs every story we hear about
this country, giving it a sense of incompleteness. And that imprecision
holds true for the story you have just see too. Everything we heard lacked the millions
of voices and opinions needed to be credible. What really happens in this faraway land
ruled by one young marshal, is anyone's guess.
The way North Koreans constantly praise their 'dear leader' is sick and reeks of fear. Surely nobody can think that being ruled by a tyrannical asshole who gives them no freedom and locks them away in brutal labour camps if they say anything 'wrong' is something that is good and should be accepted?
For those who disregard the documentary without watching it; Yes, it's scripted propaganda interspersed with a few noticably tense interviewees. But for those that dismiss RTs INTENT, I'd like to quote the narrator from the ending:
"On our way to the hotel we stared around the unfamiliar streets, certain that we'd be able to gain some insight into the most unknown country in the world. Ten days later, we knew different. An impermutable barrier, separating us from them blurs every story we hear about this country. Giving it the sense of.. incompleteness. And that imprecision holdes true for the story you've just seen too. Everything we heard lacked the voices and opinions needed to be credible. What really happens in this far away land ruled by a young marshal is anyones guess."
Moderately interesting but the endless interviews with the mindless zombie style praise of the dear leader got old pretty quick...
Translation isn't all that great, but it's close enough.
Although, i'm mostly sure all the interviews are pretty much scripted answers.
Or they are only allowed to ask questions to those who have government approval to answer.
edit: i learned something knew. I actually never knew about the wall. I knew it was called 38th line , heavily guarded by military, but not actual wall. Interesting.
The information box that kept popping up was really annoying since they layered it over the subtitles.
I shot the whole thing. I'm open to questions.
Yeahhh, I personally wouldn't trust russian state media to objectively report on North Korea.
Fucking propaganda.
"The quality of the animation is known world wide" Yeah, that's some Pixar shit right there for real....