The Cleanest Race - B. R. Myers [40]
By the end of the 1990s the worst was over. With a renewed joy and confidence sweeping the nation, the General ushered in a glorious new era by announcing the “Strong and Prosperous Nation” campaign. Shortly thereafter he concluded an agreement with the southern masses to expedite unification by strengthening economic and cultural ties. But that was not all: in 2006 the Dear General successfully oversaw the acquisition of a nuclear deterrent that would protect the Korean race forever. Truly, the son had proven himself worthy of his great father.2
Although the regime uses the title “Dear Leader” in English publications, a practice I reluctantly follow in this book, the Korean original should more accurately be translated as “Dear Ruler,” for it is not the word “great” but the word “leader” (suryǒng) that is reserved for his father; Kim Jong Il is often called Great Ruler (widaehan yǒngdoja), as he was in North Korean coverage of his meeting with Bill Clinton in August 2009.
But as the reader can gather from the foregoing summary, there is much more common ground between the myths of the two Kims than there are significant differences. Like his father before him, the Dear Leader embodies Korean virtues and is therefore the greatest man alive. (He too was born with these virtues, as the talk of his angelic toddlerhood is meant to attest.) But to counter the assumption that the boy had an easy time growing up, the Text stresses that he was “born and bred in … difficult circumstances,”3 extracting plenty of pathos from the death of his young mother: “No matter how he called and cried, [she] still did not come home.”4 Tales abound of his aversion to receiving special treatment.5 In one novel it is claimed that he always called Kim Il Sung “Leader,” “General,” etc, refusing to claim special filial status for himself.6 He is often shown fussing over his father’s health, warding off those who would trouble him unnecessarily, and doing all he can to disseminate Juche Thought.7
Never is he shown simply enjoying himself. His clothes are simple and austere, usually a zip-up tunic and matching pants in a drab brown; unlike his father he never wears suits. Artists like to portray the youthful Jong Il in solitude, often at a site associated with the anti-Japanese struggle, or looking on with a wistful smile as his father greets adoring citizens.8 The message: For Kim Jong Il so loved the Korean people that he gave them his only parent.
Still, this is rather thin stuff to be making a personality cult out of, and one can only wonder how the public would have responded to the Dear Leader’s accession had the nuclear crisis of the early 1990s not fitted him out with his own myth of national rescue. (We will discuss the conflict with America in the following chapter.) Even now the regime evidently feels the need for the dead Parent Leader to remind the masses what “enormous luck” they enjoy in having his son around, and that they must venerate the General “no matter what wind may blow in the future.”9 They must also take good care of his health, making sure that he gets enough rest, etc.10 The regime seems to have an endless supply of these remarkably topical-sounding quotes, only a few of which can be traced back to Kim Il Sung’s collected works.11 It would appear that for all the propaganda apparatus’s hard work, the Dear Leader is still far from enjoying the popularity that his father did. This problem is certainly not unconnected with the appearance of the real-life Kim Jong Il, a short, homely and now wizened man given to wearing sunglasses—eyewear often associated with Yankee villains—even in indoor photo-ops. (His voice