North Korea faces dilemma of risk versus need

By Mike Chinoy
CNN Correspondent

Only the most loyal North Koreans are rewarded with a visit to Kumsusan Memorial Palace, where they can view a giant marble statue of the "Great Leader," Kim Il Sung

(CNN) -- The Kumsusan Memorial Palace, on the outskirts of the North Korean capital of Pyongyang, is one of the newest and most extravagant monuments to the remarkable personality cult at the heart of the country's political system.

Kumsusan, with its 50-foot-high ceilings and brilliantly polished marble floors and columns, was the home and office of President Kim Il Sung. After Kim's death in 1994, it was transformed into a mausoleum for the man the North Koreans still venerate as the "Great Leader."

Pyongyang's skyline is dominated by a colossal, bronze statue of Kim Il Sung and its streets are lined with posters and billboards extolling the "Great Leader" and his son and heir, the "Dear Leader" Kim Jong Il. But the Kumsusan Memorial Palace has become perhaps the holiest of North Korea's political shrines. North Korean government guides arranged for a CNN team to visit it during my most recent trip to Pyongyang.

Together with a throng of somber-faced North Koreans, we glided along a moving walkway for nearly a kilometer, until we arrived at a series of vast marble corridors. These led to a long chamber with a giant white marble statue of the "Great Leader" at the end, illuminated from behind by pink lights to give the effect of the rosy glow of dawn.

Another cavernous room displayed Kim's remains. Civilians bowed and soldiers saluted as they walked around the glass case containing his body, the silence punctuated only by sniffles and muffled sobs. In death, the "Great Leader," dressed in a dark suit, covered with a flag from his chest down, looked curiously shrunken.

Single-minded goal

A bronze statue of the late Kim Il Sung is the centerpiece of the capital city of Pyongyang

I followed the faithful down the stairs to a set of adjoining rooms. Here the North Koreans had somehow managed to install Kim Il Sung's favorite train carriage and a bullet-proof Mercedes given to him by Kim Jong Il. Then we came to the final stop -- an exhibition of some of the 140,000 gifts the "Great Leader" received from international dignitaries during his long rule. Among the items on display were a Belt of Merit Order from the Polish People's Republic, the Order of Freedom First Class from the People's Socialist Republic of Albania, a medal for the Lenin Centenary from the Soviet Union, and the Karl Marx Order from East Germany. I was struck by how many of these gifts came from states that no longer existed.

Many experts believe that the overriding preoccupation of the North Korean regime for more than a decade has been to avoid the same fate as its former socialist allies. This theory explains what many outsiders view as its truculent or seemingly bizarre behavior. That single-minded goal provides one rationale for the maintenance and enhancement of the cult -- an all-encompassing mechanism of control that helped pull the population together, bolster Kim Jong Il's legitimacy by cloaking him in his father's mantle, and prevent any questioning of his leadership.

It also helps to explain why Kim Jong Il agreed to host a summit with his South Korean counterpart, Kim Dae-jung.

Shift in focus

For much of the 1990s, North Korea's strategy for survival was focused on the United States. Largely abandoned by its long-time allies in Beijing and Moscow, faced with a disintegrating economy and near-famine conditions, the leadership in Pyongyang sought to extract aid -- and legitimacy -- from the United States. The North's preferred tactic, used repeatedly, was brinkmanship -- pressuring the United States for economic and diplomatic concessions in return for freezing its nuclear weapons program or halting long-range missile tests.

During the first several months of 2000, however, the North appears to have concluded that American generosity, and patience, is beginning to wear thin, and that other options are needed to forestall economic collapse. The most attractive option is South Korea.

"The North is still hurting economically," noted one veteran North Korea analyst. "They're disappointed the U.S. hasn't put in enough money. The South, though, has both the resources, and the willingness."

Indeed, since taking office in 1998, Kim Dae-jung, a former dissident, has doggedly pursued "sunshine diplomacy," providing food, clothing, and medicine to the North, and encouraging South Korean investment and tourism in the hope of easing tensions on the divided peninsula. Despite initial suspicion in Pyongyang and widespread skepticism at home, exacerbated by a series of crises -- including armed naval clashes, the detention of a South Korean tourist, and the threat of more missile tests -- Kim Dae-jung persevered.

'A calculated risk'

South Korean tourists visit Mount Kumgang in the North. Many analysts credit the tours with helping to give the North confidence to engage the South

For the North, according to many analysts, the critical turning point was the success of tours organized by the South Korean conglomerate Hyundai to Mount Kumgang in the southwestern corner of North Korea. The tours, which allow boatloads of South Koreans to visit the scenic spot in carefully guided groups that prevent any contact with ordinary North Koreans, provide Pyongyang with hundreds of millions of dollars every year. They have also given the North a cautious confidence that it can handle increased engagement with the South without undermining its own political system.

"The Mount Kumgang experience convinced the North it could take a calculated risk and get more aid from the South while still avoiding political destabilization," noted one observer in Seoul.

This sense of confidence can be seen in a host of other recent North Korean initiatives. Since the turn of the year, the long-isolated Pyongyang regime has established diplomatic relations with Italy and Australia, resumed talks on opening ties with Japan and applied for membership in the ASEAN Regional Forum, the major venue for discussions on Asian security issues. In addition, the North has welcomed a U.S. team for a second inspection visit of a suspect nuclear site, and agreed to new talks on resuming joint operations to recover the remains of American soldiers missing in action from the Korean War.

All this suggests that Kim Jong Il, who formally succeeded his father, now feels secure enough to emerge from the shadows where he has operated for so long. The North Koreans appear to have calculated that the benefits of a successful summit, in terms of increased aid, food, and investment from the South, are worth the gamble of greater contact with their long-time adversary.

North Korean leader Kim Jong Il, right, is greeted by officials in a receiving line

Still, the June 2000 summit underscores North Korea's fundamental crisis. Almost all outside observers agree that to reverse the downward economic spiral, not just aid but genuine market-style reforms, similar to those implemented in neighboring China, are essential. But even the most gradual economic opening has the potential to undermine the authority and prestige of the state and the Kim cult which underpins it. No matter how many restrictions are imposed, contact with South Korea, with its shared history and culture but wholly different political and economic system, poses perhaps the greatest threat of all.

My visit to the Kumsusan Memorial Palace suggested an apt metaphor for North Korea's dilemma. Before entering the chamber containing Kim Il Sung's corpse, a visitor must pass through an enclosed decontamination room, which blows dust and dirt from one's body and clothes. As I stood there buffeted by the noisy fans, I wondered whether a regime that has stayed in power largely by isolating its people from all outside contact for half a century could introduce change without risking potentially fatal political contamination. If the Kim-Kim summit produces greater contact on the divided peninsula, we may soon know the answer.

CNN Hong Kong Bureau Chief Mike Chinoy has visited North Korea 11 times, making his first trip in 1989.

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