One party vs. multiple parties
North Korea’s one and only political party exerts powerful influence inside its nation. Whether the all-powerful ruling party has truly improved the lives of the people remains in question (Image: Piu_Piu, Courtesy of Shutterstock, Inc.)
The most cited difference between countries that are socialist or capitalist is the extent to which individual citizens are able to own the means of production. But another significant distinction concerns political parties. Is there one or several?
This measure alone reveals the ideological system of a country. In a socialist society, the role of the party is immense. Its status goes far beyond a simple gathering of people who share the same political beliefs or ideology.
The Korea Workers’ Party, for example, exerts enormous influence over the lives of North Koreans. “Let’s always be ready to become loyal sons and daughters of the party!” Anyone born there would be familiar with this and similar slogans. They’re displayed everywhere in towns and on city streets.
Through this kind of indoctrination, people learn that their purpose lies in service to the party and the state. Eventually, they are taught that their purpose is to fight the United States because it threatens the Party.
But let’s be honest. Was I born to fight America? Not at all. Yet the state creates tension, acting as if it’s constantly under threat from hostile forces that we, the people, must stand ready to repel.
This is how a single ruling party justifies its existence. It conjures up an imaginary enemy to unite the masses behind it.
To ensure unity, it adopts other strategies. One, for example, is to limit its numbers, making membership a special privilege.
This explains why becoming a party member in North Korea is no easy task. The most certain way to join is by serving in the military. Typically, to be eligible for party membership, young men must serve for ten years, from the age of 18 to 28. Sacrifice your best years and you are rewarded with a party card.
In special cases in recent years, membership may also be granted in return for what’s called “a loyalty contribution,” ie, cash donated for national development. At my university, I had a friend who became a party member this way when he was just 21.
Around 2011, while we were students, we were mobilized to help with construction projects in Pyongyang. Looking back, many events occurred during that time, but one that stood out was when the party granted membership to university students who donated large sums. The price was $10,000.
On the day the cards were awarded, we had to listen for an hour to a speech from an official about the loyalty of these students. It became apparent that while some students could buy their way in for $10,000, soldiers had to sacrifice ten years. Different prices for different people. Realizing this, I could see that the party we once admired had changed.
I would like to share the story of one man that illustrates this betrayal.
This man was always so busy that it seemed like 24 hours a day was not enough for him. He was, and still is, a plasterer by day and a guard at night. He has two notable characteristics. One is that he always keeps working, despite being quite frail. The other is that he constantly voices his discontent with the party whenever he gets a chance.
“If we want to live well, we should do the exact opposite of what the party tells us,” he says.
He wasn’t always like this. He used to be loyal. He was honest, diligent, and devoted to the party. Despite hardships from when he was young, he never lost hope. He believed that if he worked hard enough, he would eventually enjoy a comfortable old age.
“Suffering when you’re young is better than gold,” he used to say. To his way of thinking, in other words, present struggles were an investment for a peaceful future.
He worked tirelessly for 20 years and then one day, the Workers’ Party introduced a new economic management system. It was a benevolent measure to improve the lives of the people, the party announced. The new system involved the printing of large amounts of currency, which rendered existing money worthless.
In a voice filled with despair, he told those around him, “The party has turned 20 years of my hard work into a couple of dried pollack.”
The money he had saved in his wardrobe was now useless, no longer able to secure his retirement. For a while, he wandered in a daze, muttering to himself, “How could the party do this to me?”
It was only after his value had been exhausted that he finally realized the party’s true nature. It had taken 20 years of his life and now rendered his dreams for the future worthless.
Even now, in his old age, he continues to work day and night to make a living. But his philosophy has changed.
“Faking sickness when you’re young is like medicine for when you’re old,” he often says these days.
The Workers’ Party claims that it wants to improve the people’s lives, yet in reality, it is seizing people’s money.
At the same time, it likens itself to a mother. One writer named Kim Chol spearheaded this kind of propaganda. When he was a young revolutionary, he wrote poems of regret and repentance for his wrongdoing and expressed gratitude toward the party. The leadership was so impressed that he was promoted.
Kim continued to write verses praising the party. They were included in textbooks. One is entitled “Mother.” Whether he genuinely regarded the party as a mother or by this time was fabricating the sentiment to advance his career, we cannot know. However, as he gained wealth and status from his poetry, the masses were left toiling in misery under the weight of lies.
In Kim’s poem, the Workers’ Party is likened to a mother who welcomes you home with open arms, whether you are approaching her with joy or guilt. She lovingly listens to all your wishes and even hears the confessions of your wrongdoing.
The poem ends with the memorable line, “I cannot live without this mother.”
But, I have to ask, what kind of mother steals her children’s money to buy luxuries for herself? What kind of mother turns guns on her children? Even when it’s doing that, the motherly Workers Party insists that everything it does is for the people.
I can say with absolute certainty that the only way to survive is to escape from such a mother as soon as you can.
In South Korea, where I now live, there is no “Mother Party.” Yet, look at how well people live. In North Korea, our people often ask why it is so hard to live well, even after passing all the dress code inspections (authorities crack down on improper attire), while in capitalist countries, people seem to live well even if they walk around in what looks like their underwear?
In South Korea, as we all know, there are multiple political parties. From what I’ve seen, multiple parties always result in instability and noise. No issue, it seems, is ever resolved smoothly. When the ruling party agrees, the opposition disagrees, and when the opposition raises an issue, the ruling party fiercely counters it.
In contrast, the Workers’ Party faces no rejection or opposition. “When the party decides, we act,” the slogan goes. That’s right. If something hasn’t been done yet, it’s simply because the party hasn’t made the decision.
In 30 years in North Korea, I never once saw the party admit to a mistake, let alone apologize. Everything it does is always considered correct.
This leads me to a question. Why does a state run by a single party that claims it can do anything lag behind a state with multiple parties that struggle to get anything done?
Is the number of parties the real issue, or does the answer lie in the difference between dictatorship and democracy? Is it about dependence versus independence, truth versus hypocrisy?
It’s deeply ironic that in a socialist society founded on the ideal of equality, so many are oppressed.
I am one of them and these words are the expression of both long-suppressed frustration and shame at never having had the courage to speak out against injustice out of fear for my life.
I hope my voice reaches far and wide, helping you better understand my home, my friends, and my country, where, to quote George Orwell, all animals are equal, but some animals are more equal than others.
Born in Chongjin in 1990, Jang Mi was not a studious child, but under her mother’s influence, she graduated from high school and went on to university to take math and science. She worked as a wedding video editor for seven years until her defection in 2019.
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