Left Flank

Kim Hyun Sik, a professor of Russian at the Pyongyang University of Education, dean of the foreign-language department, and Russian tutor for Kim Il-sung's family for 20 years, and now, after defecting from DPRK, a research professor at George Mason University, offers accounts of Kim Jong-il as a student. Overall, Professor Kim's account reinforces the perspective that the Dear Leader is an average Korean, xenophobic, pro-military, and paranoid. In an opening sketch of a young Kim's first Russian exam, I'm struck by how Kim Jong-il's problems with Russian conversation, the Namsan Senior High School's curriculum, and Kim Il-sung's reaction to his son's performance, are very similar to my experiences of today's South Koreans learning English.

I first met Kim Jong Il in October 1959. He was a senior at the elite Namsan Senior High School, and I was a 27-year-old professor of Russian at the Pyongyang University of Education. I also happened to have been chosen as a private tutor for the family of North Korean President Kim Il Sung. One day, the Great Leader remarked that he found his son’s Russian to be very poor and told me to go to his school and evaluate both Kim Jong Il’s proficiency and the quality of Russian education there. Handpicked by Joseph Stalin to rule over North Korea and a fluent Russian speaker himself, Kim Il Sung deemed study of the language essential to relations with the Soviet Union, North Korea’s biggest political, economic, and military patron. At the school, I attended every Russian class, made evaluations, and then summoned the 17-year-old Kim Jong Il into the principal’s office. The principal, one of the school’s Russian teachers, and I, in accordance with Kim Il Sung’s orders, jointly administered an oral Russian exam for Kim Jong Il.

Just a young student at the time, the examinee appeared to be extremely nervous sitting alone for an oral exam before the three of us※especially one arranged at his father’s behest. The shy boy with puffy, red cheeks responded meekly to each question I posed.

«Please open the book, Ri Su Bok, the North Korean Matrosov, and translate it,» I told Kim.

He proceeded to read passages slowly from the book and translate them into Korean. His translations were not outstanding, but he managed to read and translate the text without making an error.

After a while I said, «Please summarize the contents of the book.»

«You mean in Korean?» Kim asked.

«No. It should be in Russian, of course,» I replied.

Looking a bit flustered, he began to speak in halting Russian. His spoken Russian seemed to lag behind his reading and translation.

«OK. Next I will test you on noun/adjective inflection, verb tense, and the first/second/third-person form.»

When his father ordered me to evaluate Kim’s Russian, he had praised his son’s grammatical skills. He was right. When I rapidly threw out words at him, he replied without the slightest hesitation.

«Finally, I will test you on Russian conversation. Please listen to my questions and remarks and respond accordingly.» I asked Kim Jong Il routine questions like his name and birthday, the date and day of the week, and the weather, yet he had a hard time responding. During the final conversation phase, he blushed and beads of sweat gathered on his forehead. Without ever boasting that he was the son of the Great Leader, Kim Jong Il patiently endured the exam.

My evaluation of Russian education at Namsan High School was that the instruction of spoken language had fallen behind that of grammar. When informed of my finding, Kim Il Sung became irate and demanded that any Russian teacher at Namsan High School who was not fluent in Russian be dismissed. I recommended a new, conversation-focused Russian program and suggested holding the annual nationwide Russian teachers’ convention at Namsan the following year.

The following January, Russian teachers from across the nation convened at the high school. At the convention, Kim Jong Il showed off his new Russian skills with confidence. The combination of a new curriculum and the prodding by his father had paid off: Kim’s nervous, diffident demeanor from the exam a few months back had disappeared. As an educator, I was quite gratified by his impressive progress.

Nearly 50 years have passed since the day I administered that test, but I still remember the questions I posed to Kim Jong Il, and the answers he gave in his amateur Russian: «I love and respect my father more than anyone else.» «I plan to enroll in the Kim Il Sung University upon graduation from Namsan Senior High School.» «I enjoy watching films more than playing sports.»

The same inability to communicate in Russian Kim Jong-il displayed recurs today in English for the same reason it did in 1959: English professors still cannot communicate in English. Reading a grammar book is still easier than talking. And, the Great Leader's reaction is what any South Korean parent would be envious. That one professor's career was made by the younger Kim's speech is grossly unfair to all those competent grammar instructors. How ordinarily Korean of the North Korean Kims.

And, as ordinary as a student as he is, Kim Jong-il is just as capable of carrying out exclusive support for his immediate family, another dream any Korean would cherish.

In September 1973, Kim Jong Il’s daughter, Sul Song, was to enroll at Namsan Primary School. Surrounded by tall, green poplar trees where birds rested and sang, the school had the air of a natural park. Beyond the rear of the school’s stadium atop Haebang Hill sat the mansions of the highest officials.

Its pastoral setting was reserved for children of the elite - party officials above the rank of vice minister. They enjoyed all the perks that come with a rarefied spot in North Korean society: the best teachers, the best facilities, and just a few days of mandatory farm work every spring (as opposed to the average 60 to 90 days). Graduates of Namsan were guaranteed a spot at any university of their choice and an open door to a successful career. Isolated from the children of ordinary people, the students at Namsan would go on to become officials of the party and state.

Naturally, Kim Il Sung’s children had studied at Namsan, including Kim Jong Il. Throughout his years there, Kim was a rather ordinary student. From academics and art to sports and extracurricular activities, he excelled in none. He made few friends. Upon graduation, Kim and his siblings all enrolled at Kim Il Sung University. His daughter’s life was planned out much the same way - until that September day.

The school’s staff waited by the entrance gate with flower bouquets in hand. As the minutes passed and the bell rang, Sul Song failed to show up. The staff grew increasingly anxious. One hour later, the school received the following one-line notification from state authorities: «Kim Sul Song will not enroll in Namsan School.» Disappointed, the teachers and staff, who had been preparing for Kim Sul Song’s enrollment, were simply left to wonder if she would be studying abroad instead.

They didn’t have much time to linger: That day also marked the enrollment of another important first-grader. He was none other than Kim Min Chul, the nephew of Kim Il Sung’s second wife. I remember that day extremely well, for I had been selected to evaluate the 6-year-old child’s aptitude for advanced education. That day, Kim Il Sung’s mother-in-law came to see her beloved grandson begin his schooling. Several other relatives milled about, and the school bustled with the unusual presence of so many important people.

Kim Jong Il was incensed to know that his only daughter would be sharing the spotlight throughout her early education with a child from the «side branches,» those relatives who lay outside the main family line. So, he had decided to hire a private tutor for his daughter rather than send her to Namsan. Withdrawing his daughter from the school was a public revelation of his hostility toward his extended family, but, on its own, it wouldn’t eliminate those potential rivals to his own children. Which is why Kim Jong Il had his alma mater, where he had spent so much of his youth, blown up.

Several years later, in 1982, as he was consolidating power within the party, Kim Il Sung’s mother-in-law (and a close friend of mine) described how Kim Jong Il finally executed his plan. First, he brought up the school at a meeting of high officials.

«Comrades, what do you think of the fact that Namsan School is located right in front of our Central Party office building?»

His sycophants got the message.

«Dear Comrade Leader, is it not advisable to have a school inside the Central Party district?» was a typical response. «I think it best that Namsan School find another site and be relocated.»

Kim Jong Il became more and more pleased with each nod of agreement.

«I have thought so for some time. I have long believed that the presence of a school within the party district is inappropriate, and I am opposed to having party officials’ children educated at a special school like Namsan. Why should party officials receive special consideration, and why should their children be educated by themselves, cut off from the rest of the people? Let’s put an end to dividing the party officials and the general public.»

Now, the original intent behind the school was to sequester the children of high officials in an attempt to thwart the spread of sensitive state secrets. But, as in so many communist societies, the school actually served to keep the lavish lifestyles of high officials hidden from the rest of the population. While the children of ordinary North Koreans ate cornmeal with soybean soup and soy sauce chemically made from soybean dregs and unseasoned kimchi, the students of Namsan ate high-grade white rice with meat, fish, and eggs. Should the wider population discover such a contrast in lifestyles, the image of the socialist state was bound to suffer.

A few nights after Kim’s meeting, the Namsan School was blown up by a demolition squad of the North Korean Army. On the very same plot of land, a new office building was erected. It would house the party’s Organization and Guidance Bureau. As the Namsan School vanished into thin air, so too disappeared the hopes of the school’s teachers and staff, students, and parents of students who had looked to Kim’s other relatives as potential successors to Kim Il Sung. By demolishing the school, Kim Jong Il was effectively declaring that he, and only he, was the rightful successor.

Even today, long after becoming the sole supreme leader of North Korea, Kim refuses to allow graduates of the Namsan School in his inner circle. After all, those who have known Kim Jong Il since youth are bound to see him as human - not the center of a god-like cult of personality.

These intimate recollections of the Kim clan are rare. So, too, are transcripts of government deliberations. Professor Kim's account is valuable in both regards.

Commemoration of Korean War events has begun afresh as June 25 reset the calendar for another year. GI Korea offers a heartfelt, if revisionist account of Task Force Smith (my comment recounts why I believe the banner of United Nations intervention is no cynical machination.).

I would emphasize the issue of presidential authority.

One of Truman's important but little noted first moves in the fateful last weeks of June had been to recall Averell Harriman from Europe, where he had been a kind of roving ambassador, and make him a special assistant to help with war emergency problems; and one of Harriman's first movies in his new role was to press upon the President the need for congressional support for what he was doing in Korea. He urged Truman to call for a war resolution from Congress as soon as possible, while the country was still behind him. Dean Acheson, however, disagreed, insisting that such a resolution was unnecessary and unwise. The President, said Acheson, should rest on his constitutional authority as Commander in Chief. It was true that congressional approval would do no harm, but the process of obtaining it, Acheson thought, might do great harm. In the mounting anxiety over how things were going in Korea, the timing was wrong.

Truman sided with Acheson, telling Harriman further that to appeal to Congress would make it more difficult for future presidents to deal with emergencies.

Later when Robert Taft and others began criticizing the President [Harriman would recall] I was convinced the President had made a mistake. This decision, however, was characteristic of President Truman. He always kept in mind how his actions would affect future presidential authority.

(Truman [E-Book], David McCullough, 1992, pp. 4926-4930)

My grandmother's second husband fought in Korea (my grandfather was a sailor during WW2 in the Mediterranean fleet). I won't distract readers here with his bitter accounts of fighting, the Korea terrain, and the locals. Suffice it to say, he would not approve of me living in ROK. But, despite his rancor, I believe he did good. The Korean War offered the hope that war would not become general and global, like World Wars One and Two. But, it also perverted American political institutions. It is a Faustian bargain, but a sacrifice history will cherish.