North Korean Economy Watch

Bloomberg
Bradley K. Martin
12/28/2005

A sign of North Korea’s fledgling moves toward a market economy can be found at the Pyongyang monument commemorating the 1945 founding of the Workers’ Party. Beneath a 50-meter-tall rendition of the party’s logo — a hammer, sickle and writing brush — sits a street photographer.

A handmade sign displays her price list and sample photos, mostly of groups of North Korean visitors, with the monument as background.

The photographer is one of countless sidewalk entrepreneurs – – most of them selling food and drink — who have set up shop in North Korea since 2002. Before that, they would have been hauled off to re-education camps for profiteering. In the late 1990s, North Korea’s Civil Law Dictionary described merchants as a class to be eradicated because they “buy goods from producers at a low price and sell them to consumers at a high price by way of fraud, deceit and spoils.”

Since then, the party newspaper, Rodong Shinmun, has quoted Kim Jong Il, who’s held supreme power since the 1994 death of his father, Kim Il Sung, as favoring profits under socialist economic management.

North Korea, one of the world’s last Stalinist regimes, has gradually begun permitting commerce. On a four-day visit to Pyongyang, the capital, in October — arranged and scripted by the government — a group of 17 Western journalists got a glimpse of the changes. Clean, new restaurants were packed with paying customers while the streets — almost empty in 1979 and only lightly traveled in ’89 and ’92 — bustled with bicycles, motorbikes and Japanese sedans.

Casino Pyongyang

In the state-owned Yanggakdo Hotel on an island in the Taedong River, a mostly Chinese clientele played slot machines, cards or roulette at the Casino Pyongyang. Since 1998, Macau billionaire Stanley Ho, through his Sociedade de Turismo e Diversoes de Macau SARL, has invested $30 million in the casino, whose staff is also Chinese.

Now some investors from farther afield are joining pioneering Chinese and South Koreans in plunging into a country once so isolated it was known as the Hermit Kingdom. In September, Anglo- Sino Capital Partners, a London-based fund manager, said it had formed the Chosun Development & Investment Fund, which plans to raise $50 million for investments in North Korea.

“It’s the last virgin economy,” says Colin McAskill, 65, a director of Anglo-Sino and chairman of Koryo Asia Ltd., which is investment adviser to the new fund.

Natural Resources

Besides recent changes in the economic system, a 99 percent literacy rate and a minimum wage for workers in foreign-invested ventures of only $35 a month, McAskill says, he was drawn by North Korea’s rich natural resources — including iron ore, copper, lead, zinc, molybdenum, gold, nickel, manganese, tungsten, anthracite and lignite.

The fund will concentrate on North Korean companies that have been active internationally in the past, with track records as foreign currency earners, says McAskill.

He negotiated on behalf of North Korea with foreign bank creditors in 1987, when the country was unable to repay some $900 million in balance-of-payment loans that had enabled the regime in the 1970s to purchase Western industrial technology — Swiss watch-making machinery, for example — as well as such non-capital goods as 1,000 Volvo sedans from Sweden.

Oil Potential

The country’s petroleum potential lured Dublin-based Aminex Plc and its Korea-focused subsidiary, Korex Ltd., which in August announced the signing of a nine-year production-sharing agreement to explore and develop 66,000 square kilometers (25,000 square miles) of North Korean territory. The agreement covers areas in the Yellow Sea’s West Korea Bay and in the Sea of Japan as well as onshore.

While North Korea lacks proven petroleum reserves, according to the U.S. Energy Information Agency, the West Korea Bay in particular may contain hydrocarbon reserves, as it’s considered to be a geological extension of China’s oil-rich Bohai Bay.

More foreign investment may come, says Tony Michell, a Seoul- based consultant on North Korea. Michell, a 58-year-old Briton, says he has recently shepherded 20 senior managers of international companies, representing seven nationalities, to Pyongyang.

“They’re big players,” says Michell, declining to identify his clients by name or company. “They’re looking at everything, from services to manufacturing. They want to get the measure of the North Koreans and be ready if the six-party talks succeed.”

Six-Party Talks

The so-called six-party talks — between North Korea and China, Japan, Russia, South Korea and the U.S. — are aimed at ending the country’s pursuit of nuclear weapons. In September, the six countries agreed on a statement of principles to govern further talks. It called for a nuclear-free Korean peninsula, a peace treaty and economic cooperation in energy, trade and investment.

Seoul-based Hyundai Research Institute, an affiliate of the Hyundai Group, projected in September that a successful outcome to the talks would be worth as much as $55 billion to the economy in the North — and more than twice that in the South.

Optimism about the economy has boosted the prices of defaulted North Korean debt originally owed to hundreds of creditors, mostly European banks, which in the 1970s began meeting as a London-based ad hoc group to discuss restructuring options. In the 1990s, that so-called London Club turned a portion of the debt into Euroclearable certificates, securities that were denominated in Swiss francs and German marks.

The certificates are trading at about 20-21 percent of face value, up from 12 percent in 2003, according to London-based Exotix Ltd., a unit of Icap Plc, one of a few financial firms that make an over-the-counter market in them.

Excessive Optimism

The debt’s price has risen in the past on excessive optimism about the country’s future. In early 1998, the debt was trading at nearly 60 percent of face value amid rumors that North Korea would collapse imminently and be absorbed by wealthy South Korea, which would then make good on the entire outstanding debt.

That had not happened by the time of the crash later that year in global emerging-market securities, when the North Korean debt price sank to about 25 percent of face value.

Exotix estimates that North Korea owes the equivalent of some $1.6 billion in principal and interest to banks out of a total $14 billion in principal and interest owed globally to mainly communist and formerly communist countries.

Although a cease-fire was declared in 1953 in the war between North Korea and China on one side and the United Nations — under whose flag the Americans, South Koreans and others had fought — on the other side, no peace treaty has ever been signed.

The U.S. maintains sanctions under the Trading with the Enemy Act that restrict trade and financial transactions with North Korea — and apply to Americans and permanent residents of the U.S. and to branches, subsidiaries and controlled affiliates of U.S. organizations throughout the world.

China, Russia

North Korea’s flirtations with capitalism are belated compared with those of China and the former Soviet Union, which began opening their economies in the 1970s.

North Korea did pass a law legalizing foreign investment in 1984. The law, which permitted equity joint ventures between state enterprises and foreigners, attracted only $150 million in investment during the following decade, largely because investors were put off by the country’s poor roads, railroads, power systems and phone networks and by official interference in joint ventures’ recruitment, dismissal and compensation of workers, according to a 2000 thesis by Pilho Park, a postgraduate student at the University of Wisconsin Law School in Madison.

Vietnam Example

In contrast, Vietnam lured $7.5 billion in investment in the first five years after it opened its economy to foreign capital in 1988, Park wrote.

Following the collapse of European communism in the early 1990s, North Korea opened the Rajin-Sonbong Free Economic and Trade Zone on the northeastern border with China and Russia. A brief flurry of investor interest ensued and then fizzled out when a crisis over the country’s nuclear weapons program took North Korea to the brink of war with the U.S. and South Korea in 1994.

In the mid ’90s, catastrophic floods, combined with the collapse of the global communist system of aid and preferential trade, caused a severe energy shortage that crippled the economy. As much as 70 percent of manufacturing capacity went idle, according to the South Korean central bank.

Also in the mid ’90s, famine killed as many as 2.5 million North Koreans, by the estimate of the U.S. Agency for International Development.

Food Insecurity

Since then, food aid from abroad, an absence of large-scale natural catastrophes and a 2005 harvest that was the biggest in 10 years have kept North Korea from the massive starvation that’s taken place elsewhere, including Niger, says Richard Ragan, North Korea director for the United Nations World Food Program.

Still, “the country faces chronic food insecurity,” Ragan says. “One of the things that happened with the food shortages is that marginal lands became less controlled. You see people trying to farm on some of the most inhospitable plots of land you could imagine.”

In October, steep, unterraced hillsides were plowed outside Pyongyang. The crops can then wash down, rocks and all, during rainstorms, harming water supplies and damaging farmland – fertility.

A second nuclear weapons crisis boiled up in 2002 when the U.S. accused the North of conducting a secret uranium enrichment program — to replace a plutonium program that it had frozen as part of a settlement of the earlier crisis.

Economic Rules

That same year, the regime proceeded with what then Prime Minister Hong Song Nam described as dramatic new economic measures, which helped bring arbitrarily set prices and foreign exchange rates closer to those prevailing on the black market.

The North Korean won consequently dropped to 150 won to the dollar in December 2002 from 2.15 to the dollar a year earlier. The official rate is currently about 170 won, while on the black market, one dollar can bring about 2,000 won.

The government also introduced pay incentives aimed at boosting worker productivity. The system is in operation at enterprises such as the Pyongyang Embroidery Institute, where some 400 women stitch elaborate pictures for framing and sale.

Employees who don’t perform up to expectations aren’t fired; they’re denied raises, says spokeswoman Woo Kum Suk. Unable to live on their minuscule basic salary, equivalent at black market rates to something over a dollar a month, non-performers eventually quit and go elsewhere, Woo says. Good workers can see their salaries raised as much as fivefold.

Consumers

“In my opinion, it’s good to have this system,” she says. “Although the government supplies things to us, sometimes there’s something more we want to buy.”

North Korea has some way to go before many investors rush in. According to a UN report, net investment inflow for 2003 — the most recent year for which statistics are available — was a negative figure: minus $5 million.

Currently the country is constructing a new special economic zone at Kaesong, just north of the South Korean border, where several small companies from the South already employ North Koreans to make clothing, footwear and household goods. Authorities declined to let Western reporters visit it, permitting only a glimpse from a highway bridge a mile away.

Those who are investing are taking a long-term view. Singaporean entrepreneur Richard Savage was looking at least five years into the future in 2001, when he formed a joint venture tree plantation with the Ministry of Foreign Trade. The company, Evergreen Kormax Paulownia Ltd., is 30 percent-owned by the government, which has assigned Savage 20,000 hectares (49,000 acres) on a 50-year lease with an option to extend for 20 more.

Timber Business

Savage, 58, says he, family members, friends and a few other investors have put $3 million into the project so far. Savage says he hopes that by the time the paulownia trees mature — they grow as fast as 7 centimeters (2.85 inches) a day on his farm, and some may be ready for harvesting five years after planting — he’ll be able to sell the wood in a unified Korean market.

When the Northern economy takes off, the first beneficiary will be the building industry, he says. “That’s why I’m in timber,” he says, adding that his fallback plan is to sell the wood to China, Japan and South Korea.

It’s not the first venture in North Korea for Savage, who wears a cowboy hat and whose e-mail moniker is WildRichSavage. In 1994, he introduced North Korean officials to Loxley Pcl, a Thai telecommunications company. In 1995, an affiliate formed for the purpose, Loxley Pacific Co., signed a joint venture agreement with North Korea’s post and telecommunications ministry to create modern telecommunications in the Rajin-Sonbong special economic zone. The venture earns about $1 million a year, Loxley Pacific Chief Financial Officer C.C. Kuei, 56, says.

Mining for Gold

North Korea’s 1992 Foreign Investment Law guaranteed that foreign investors’ shares of profits could be repatriated, a promise that’s now being tested by Kumsan Joint Venture Co., a gold mining concern that’s half owned by a Singapore-led group of Asian investors and half owned by Hungsong Economic Group, a large trading, mining and manufacturing group in Pyongyang that’s controlled by North Korea’s military.

Roger Barrett, a Beijing-based British consultant, has helped arrange financing and technology for Kumsan. Barrett, 50, introduced Kumsan to the foreign investors, whom he declined to identify.

The company used its investment to buy secondhand mining equipment from Australia in 2004 for the venture’s mine 2,000 meters (6,562 feet) above sea level near the city of Hamhung. In the first year the new equipment was used, Barrett says, the mine produced about 100 kilograms (220 pounds) of gold, half of which the foreign investors took out of the country. He says doing business with North Koreans has proved to be absolutely normal. “It’s working very well,” he says.

Foreign-Run Bank

The business environment in North Korea is surprisingly welcoming, says Nigel Cowie, 43, a former HSBC Holdings Plc banker who was hired a decade ago by Peregrine Investment Holdings Ltd. to start North Korea’s only foreign-run bank.

When Peregrine collapsed in 1998, Cowie and the North Korean joint venture partner kept the local unit operating. He and three other investors bought Peregrine’s 70 percent stake in it from the firm’s liquidators in 2000. Cowie, who’s general manager of what’s now called Daedong Credit Bank, says the bank has about $10 million in assets and has only foreigners as customers, mostly Chinese, Japanese and Western individuals and institutions. Only North Korean-owned banks can do business with state enterprises and North Korean individuals.

Better Living Conditions

Living conditions for expatriates have improved significantly in the past three or four years, Cowie says over a meal of Korean barbecue in the capital’s Koryo Hotel. “For me, personally, it’s things like creature comforts, more shops, Internet, e-mail,” he says. While the Internet is available to foreigners, it is forbidden to most North Koreans.

Cowie says his biggest challenge at the bank comes from outside North Korea. In September, the U.S. Treasury Department barred U.S. financial institutions from dealing with a Macau bank, Banco Delta Asia, that it said had been “a willing pawn” in corrupt North Korean activities and represented a risk for money laundering and other financial crimes.

The bank and North Korea both denied the charges, but the Macau government took over the bank and announced it would provide no services to North Korea in the future. Cowie says the action tied up a big chunk of Daedong Credit Bank’s customers’ assets because Banco Delta Asia had been a main correspondent bank for North Korean banks.

The Treasury Department in October broadened its dragnet by ordering a freeze of the assets, wherever in the world the U.S. could assert its jurisdiction, of eight North Korean companies it suspected of involvement in proliferating weapons of mass destruction.

`WMD Trafficking’

The department explained its action in an Oct. 21 statement on its Web site: “The designations announced today are part of the ongoing interagency effort by the United States Government to combat WMD trafficking by blocking the property of entities and individuals that engage in proliferation activities and their support networks.”

North Korea sought to connect the Treasury actions to Washington’s position in the six-party talks. The country’s Korean Central News Agency, using the acronym for the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, said on Dec. 2 that “lifting the financial sanctions against the DPRK is essential for creating an atmosphere for implementing the joint statement and a prerequisite to the progress of the six-party talks.”

Assistant Secretary of State Christopher Hill, the chief U.S. envoy to the talks, had said in a Nov. 11 press conference that the asset freeze wasn’t directly related to the talks.

Money Laundering Banned

Cowie says he doubts the U.S. action was intended to harm Daedong, which had already issued a manual prohibiting money laundering. He says he fears such U.S. actions could damp investor enthusiasm for North Korea. “It can cause the people doing legitimate business to just give up,” he says.

Cowie isn’t packing up to leave, though. Neither is Felix Abt, a Swiss native who heads a new European Business Association in Pyongyang. “I am very busy with visiting foreign business delegations,” Abt, 50, says. “Take it as a sign that the economy is developing and that more foreign business activities are under way.”

Outsiders’ investment on capitalism’s farthest frontier is gradually bringing benefits to North Koreans, too, says Savage, the tree farmer. “I can’t convert the whole country, but for the people who work for me, I’m giving them a better standard of living,” he says. “Slowly, people will prefer not to work for the government.”

If Savage and his fellow pioneers have their way, it’s only a matter of time before capitalism takes root in North Korea.

The Guardian
Ian Cobain and David Leigh
10/17/2005

Firm with Tories’ Ken Clarke on payroll runs factory in country with grim human rights record

British American Tobacco, the world’s second largest cigarette company, has secretly been operating a factory in North Korea for the past four years, the Guardian has learned. The company opened the plant in a joint venture with a state owned corporation shortly before the regime was denounced by George Bush as a member of the “axis of evil”, and despite widespread concern over the country’s human rights record.

BAT has never mentioned the factory in its annual accounts, and it is thought that many shareholders are unaware of its links with the country.

The discovery of the secret factory comes two years after BAT was forced to pull out of Myanmar, formerly Burma, under pressure from the UK government and human rights campaigners. The human rights record of the communist regime in North Korea is widely regarded as even worse than that of the brutal military dictatorship in Burma.

The disclosure of the existence of the plant comes a day before the first ballot in the Conservative leadership election in which Ken Clarke, BAT’s non-executive deputy chairman, is a candidate.

BAT confirmed that Mr Clarke, who has been on the company’s payroll since 1998, was aware of the decision to invest in North Korea. The firm has also said that as chair of BAT’s corporate social responsibility audit committee, Mr Clarke “would oversee human rights reports on all countries where we operate”.

Mr Clarke declined to comment, although he has previously denied any impropriety in his role with BAT.

The anti-smoking group Ash said: “It seems that there is no regime so awful and no country so repressive that BAT does not want to do business there. It beggars belief that an MP like Ken Clarke could be taken seriously as a candidate to lead a major political party.”

Mr Clarke could face an investigation by the Commons health committee over accusations that he gave false evidence to parliament when he denied BAT was embroiled in international cigarette smuggling. Mr Clarke dismissed the smuggling claims as “nonsense” five days after BAT’s lawyers had confirmed that certain claims were true, in an internal letter which subsequently came to light in the US. Mr Clarke has denied giving false evidence.

BAT launched its business in North Korea in September 2001 after forming a joint venture company with a state-owned enterprise called the Korea Sogyong Trading Corporation, whose main interest had previously been exporting carpets. BAT made an initial investment of $7.1m in the enterprise, and owns 60% of the company they formed, which is known as Taesong-BAT. It has since increased its investment, but declines to say by how much. This company employs 200 people at its factory in Pyongyang, the capital, producing up to two billion cigarettes a year. It initially produced an inexpensive brand called Kumgansan, named after a mountain in the east of the country, and is now producing brands that are known as Craven A and Viceroy. Despite its previous involvement in smuggling, BAT denies that any of its cigarettes produced in North Korea are intended for the Chinese market, and insists that they are all for consumption in North Korea.

The company says that it has worked to improve the working conditions of its employees in Pyongyang, that it provides workers with free meals, and that they are “well paid”. When asked how much the employees were paid, however, the company said it did not know. BAT even said that it had “no idea” how much its cigarettes cost on the North Korean market as the operation was run by the company’s Singapore division.

Questioned about its apparent reluctance to disclose the existence of its North Korean operation, BAT said that it listed only its “principal subsidiaries” in its accounts, and added that it was not obliged to inform investors about an investment of that size.

“It is a very small entity within the BAT group and, therefore, does little to justify a mention,” a spokeswoman said.

The spokeswoman denied the factory was “a secret”, adding: “If we are asked about our investment there, we respond appropriately. The investor community know of it.” Asked about North Korea’s human rights record, a company spokeswoman said: “It is not for us to interfere with the way governments run countries.” She said BAT could “lead by example” and assist the country’s development by meeting internationally accepted standards of businesses practice and corporate social responsibility.

In launching its North Korean enterprise, however, BAT is quietly doing business in a country which is regarded by some as having the worst human rights record in the world. Even one of BAT’s own public relations officers, in Japan, was astonished when questioned about the joint venture company. “Business with North Korea?” he asked. “Where there are no human rights?” The depth of concern about the suffering of people in North Korea is expressed in a series of reports by the United Nations and human rights watchdogs.

Last August, in an excoriating report presented to the UN General Assembly, Vitit Muntabhorn, special rapporteur on North Korea for the UN’s Commission on Human Rights, pointed to the “myriad publications” detailing violence against detainees. He expressed “deep concern” about reported torture, the killing of political prisoners, the large number of prison camps and use of forced labour. Finally, he protested at the “all pervasive and severe restrictions on the freedom of thought, conscience, religion, opinion and expression, peaceful assembly and association and on access of everyone to information”.

In its latest report on the country, Amnesty International highlighted concerns about the torture and execution of detainees, and worries over the lack of basic political freedom. The charity said that millions of North Korean people were suffering hunger and malnutrition. It added that there had been reports of public executions of people convicted of economic crimes, and that Christians, whose churches have been driven underground, were reported to have been executed because of their faith.

According to human rights observers in South Korea, about 200,000 people are held in prison camps in the north.

Human Rights Watch, meanwhile, describes the Pyongyang regime as being “among the world’s most repressive governments”, adding that its leader, Kim Jong Il, “has ruled with an iron fist and a bizarre cult of personality” since the death of his father, Kim Il Sung, in 1994.

BAT carried on its business in Myanmar for four years, running a cigarette factory in a joint venture with that county’s military dictatorship. It pulled out only after the UK government had asked it to withdraw and after Mr Clarke had been forced to admit, at a shareholders’ meeting, that “Burma is not one of the world’s most attractive regimes”.

FAQ: BAT in North Korea

What’s wrong with investing in North Korea?
Britain says it will not officially support investment there because of North Korea’s nuclear ambitions. Others, such as Action on Smoking and Health (Ash), object to investment which props up a notoriously cruel communist regime.

What is BAT’s track record as a company?
BAT has refused to stop selling cigarettes around the world, despite proof that its product is addictive and bad for health. Instead, it has sought to increase profits despite western governments imposing more legal restrictions, by selling to unsophisticated consumers in the developing world.

What is Ken Clarke’s role in BAT?
He collects £170,000 a year in pay and perks, in return for the title of deputy chairman. As a former health secretary and chancellor, he gives BAT credibility and international connections.

Why has his behaviour caused controversy?
When the company was accused of being involved in the lucrative smuggling trade in China and Latin America, Mr Clarke falsely claimed to parliament the accusations were “nonsense”.

Korea Times
Andrei Lankov
8/23/2005

The North Korea of the 1960s or 1980s was not a society of complete equality. It had its rich and poor. But the affluent people were affluent either because the party-state bureaucracy chose them, such as government officials and a handful of the most prominent scholars and writers, as well as people who were allowed to work overseas and were paid in hard currency, or allowed them to be affluent. For example, this was the case with the repatriates from Japan. From the late 1980s, the situation changed. Some people began to make money not because they were paid and showered with privileges, but because they learned how to use market capitalism.

The markets began to grow explosively around 1990, and North Korean “black capitalism’’ was conceived around this time. The first really rich people began to appear, even though they had to hide their success both from the authorities and their fellow countrymen. And one had to use whatever advantages one had, as competition was tough. In the late 1990s, the North Koreans used to say “there are only three types of people in North Korea: those who starve, those who beg and those who trade.’’

These early capitalists came from backgrounds that gave them advantages over other people who also took up trade. Most of them were officials who had useful connections. In the 1990s, a person who could command a truck easily made a huge amount of money by moving merchandise around the country and exploiting the large differences in prices between the regions. Managers of state enterprises could sell the production of their factories on the market. This was technically stealing, of course, but it was in an increasingly corrupt society there was a fairly good chance of not getting caught. Retail personnel at all levels channeled the goods through the “back doors’’ of their shops, away from the disintegrating public distribution system. Military and security personnel also had advantages, since for decades they had lived in what can be described as a “state-within-the-state,’’ beyond even the most nominal control of outsiders. Finally, “hard currency earning’’ officials made a lot of money: they have been running quasi-market operations from the 1970s and had both the necessary expertise and resources. After 1990, they began to use these resources for their own ends.

In addition to officials, generals and police officers, there were other groups of people who found themselves in an advantageous position in those early days of North Korea’s capitalist revival. These included the repatriates from Japan whose relatives back in the “capitalist hell’’ have always been encouraged to transfer money to the North. The repatriates had money, and some of them retained vestigial experience of operating in a market economy. Another group included ethnic Chinese, some of whom were Chinese citizens, and Koreans who had close relatives in China. For decades, both of these groups have been engaged in small-time cross-border commerce, and after the collapse of state control, they greatly increased the scale of their operations.

Even some humbler professions found themselves in relatively good times. Drivers, for instance, could take money for moving passengers and merchandise _ especially, after the quiet breakdown of the travel restriction system around 1997. They also augmented this money by selling and buying goods themselves and became a major source of income for train conductors.

Fortunes were made in trade, not in manufacturing, which remained largely controlled by the state. Money lending also provided good profits. In the mid-1990s, private lenders charged their borrowers with a monthly interest of some 30-40 percent. The associated risks were high, too; these private lenders had virtually no protection against the state or criminals, or above all, bad debtors.

The growth of grassroots capitalism had another unexpected effect: the empowerment of women. Like their counterparts in most other Communist countries, the North Korean authorities expected every able-bodied male to be employed in some state enterprise. It was illegal for men to remain unemployed. However, for married women, the approach was different. All Communist countries grudgingly admitted that a woman has at least a theoretical right to remain a full-time housewife. In the North, the share of housewives was unusually high: no precise data is available but it appears that some 30-40 percent of married women of working age stayed at home.

When economic disaster struck, this arrangement had unintended consequences. The men kept going to their factories and offices, even if their wages were becoming meaningless. They were afraid of the still formidable state machine, they wanted to keep the status traditionally associated with proper jobs and they also needed the rations _ as long as the rations were forthcoming. Women, especially housewives, were free to pursue completely different economic strategies. They took up market commerce with great enthusiasm and soon comprised a majority of North Korean vendors. This also meant that the women’s earnings became the major source of income in many Korean families.

This did not mean that women became prominent at the highest reaches of the new capitalist market. To occupy the key positions and make really good money, one had to have connections, capital and connections. Most of the people who had all of these things were male, but at the lower levels of the new semi-legal capitalist class, women came to play a significant role.

Asia Times
Andrei Lankov
12/4/2004

A creeping revolution, both social and economic, is under way in North Korea and it seems there’s no turning back. For decades, the country served as the closest possible approximation of an ideal Stalinist state. But the changes in its economy that have taken place after 1990 have transformed the country completely and, perhaps, irreversibly.

For decades, Pyongyang propaganda presented North Korea as an embodiment of economic self-sufficiency, completely independent from any other country. This image sold well, especially in the more credulous part of the Third World and among the ever-credulous leftist academics. The secret of its supposed self-sufficiency was simple: the country received large amounts of direct and indirect aid from the Soviet Union and China, but never admitted this in public. Though frequently annoyed by such “ingratitude”, neither Moscow nor Beijing made much noise since both communist giants wanted to maintain, at least superficially, friendly relations with their small, capricious ally.

But collapse of the Soviet Union made clear that claims of self-sufficiency were unfounded. From 1991, the North Korean economy went into free fall. Throughout 1991-99, the gross national product (GNP) of the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK) nearly halved. The situation became unbearable in 1996, when the country was struck by a famine that took, by the best available estimates, about 600,000 lives. The famine could have been prevented by a Chinese-style agricultural reform, but this option was politically impossible: such a reform would undermine the government’s ability to control the populace.

The control on daily lives was lost anyway. What we have seen in North Korea over the past 10 years can be best described as collapse of what used to be rigid Stalinism from below. In the Soviet Union of the late 1950s and in China of the late 1970s, Stalinism-Maoism was dismantled from above, through a chain of deliberate reforms planned and implemented by the government. In North Korea the same thing happened, but the system disintegrated from below, despite weak and ineffectual attempts to keep it intact.

In the 1960s, North Korea was unique in being the only nation in the world where markets were outlawed. The retail trade in a strict sense almost ceased to exist since virtually everything, from socks to apples, was distributed through an elaborate public distribution system with money payments being rather symbolic. The rations depended on a person’s position in the intricate social hierarchy, which eventually became semi-hereditary. In Kim Il-sung’s North Korea, there was almost nothing that could be sold on market since production outside the state economy was almost non-existent.

Unlike governments of other communist countries, until the late 1980s the North Korean government did not even allow its farmers to cultivate kitchen gardens – the individual plot was limited to merely 20-30 square meters, hardly enough to grow enough chili pepper. This was done on purpose. In many other communist countries, farmers had bigger plots and made their living from them, ignoring their work obligations to the state-run cooperative farms. Without their own plots, farmers would work more for the state – or so believed the North Korean government. In the utopia constructed by Kim Il-sung, every single man or woman was supposed to work for the state, and was rewarded for his and her efforts with officially approved rations and salaries.

In 1969, Kim himself admitted that the anti-market policy had been a failure. Thus private markets were gradually legalized, but remained small and strictly controlled. However, as late as late 1980s, markets were still considered inappropriate for a “socialist paradise”. They were something to be ashamed of, so they were pushed to the margins of the city. Until the early 1990s, most markets were in places more or less hidden from view, inside residential blocks and behind high concrete walls. In Pyongyang, the main city market was set up under a huge viaduct at the easternmost part of the North Korean capital, as far from the city center as possible.

However, the economic disaster of 1991-95, and especially the subsequent famine, changed the situation. Markets began to spread across the country with amazing speed. From 1995-97, nearly all plants and factories ceased to operate. The rations were not issued anymore: in most areas people still received ration coupons but these could not be exchanged for food or other rationed goods. Only in Pyongyang and some other politically important areas did food continue to be distributed. But even there, the norms were dramatically watered down. In such a situation, the ability and willingness to engage in some private business became the major guarantee of physical survival.

The government also relaxed the restrictions on domestic travel. Since around 1960, every North Korean who ventured outside his native county was required to have a special “travel permit” (an exception was made for one-day travel to neighboring counties). However, in the mid-1990s, the authorities began to turn a blind eye to unauthorized travel. It is not clear whether it was a deliberate relaxation or just inability to enforce regulations when the state bureaucracy was demoralized. After all, a bribe of some US$5 would buy such a permit from a police officer.

The tidal wave of small trade flooded the country, which once came very close to creating a non-money-based economy. People left their native places in huge numbers. Many sought places where food was more available while others enthusiastically took up the barter trade, including smuggling of goods to and from China. Women were especially prominent in the new small businesses. Many North Korean women were housewives or held less-demanding jobs than men. Their husbands continued to go to their factories, which had come to a standstill. The males received rationing coupons that were hardly worth the paper on which they were printed. But North Korean men still saw the situation as temporary and were afraid to lose the trappings of a proper state-sponsored job that for decades had been a condition for survival in their society. While men were waiting for resumption of “normal life”, whiling away their time in idle plants, the women embarked on frenetic business activity. Soon some of these women began to make sums that far exceeded their husbands’ wages.

The booming markets are not the only place for retail trade. A new service industry has risen from the ashes: private canteens, food stalls and inns operate near the markets. Even prostitution, completely eradicated around 1950, made a powerful comeback as desperate women were eager to sell sexual services to the newly rich merchants. Since no banking institution would serve private commercial operations, illegal money lenders appeared. In the late 1990s they would charge their borrowers monthly interests of 30-40%. This reflected very high risks: these lenders had virtually no protection against the state, criminals and, above all, bad debtors.

In North Korea, which for decades was so different, this meant a revolution. The new situation undermined the government’s ability to control the populace. People involved in the new market activities are independent from (or inured to) subtle government pressures that had ensured compliance for decades. One cannot promote or demote a vendor, transfer him or her to a better or worse job, nor determine his or her type of residence (though admittedly, most people still live in the houses they received when the old system was still operating).

The growth of new markets also undermined some pillars of old North Korean hierarchy. Of course, many people who became affluent in the new system came from the old hierarchy – as was the case in most post-communist countries. Officials or managers of state-run enterprises found manifold ways to make an extra won. These managers often sold their factories’ products on the market. But many hitherto discriminated-against groups managed to rise to prominence during this decade. The access to foreign currency was very important, and in North Korea there were three major groups who had access to some investment capital: the Japanese-Koreans, Chinese-Koreans and Korean-Chinese.

The Japanese-Koreans moved into the country in the 1960s (there were some 95,000 of them – with family members, children and grandchildren, their current number can be estimated at 200,000-250,000). These people have relatives in Japan who are willing to send them money. Traditionally, the authorities looked at Japanese-Koreans with suspicion. At the same time, since money transfers from Japan have been a major source of hard currency for Pyongyang, their activities were often tolerated. This particular group even enjoyed some special rights, being privileged and discriminated against at the same time. When the old system of state control and distribution collapsed, Japanese-Koreans began to invest their money into a multitude of trade adventures. It did not hurt that many of them still had the first-hand experience of living in a capitalist society.

Another group were people with relatives in China. The economic growth of China meant that the relatives could also help their poor relatives in North Korea. In most cases, this was not in the form of money transfers, but assistance in business and trade. The local ethnic Chinese were in an even better position to exploit the new opportunities. For decades, they have constituted the only group of the country’s inhabitants who could travel overseas as private citizens more or less at their will. Even in earlier times, the ethnic Chinese used this unique position to earn extra money by small-scale and part-time smuggling. In the 1990s, they switched to large operations. There is an irony in the sudden economic advance of these groups. For decades, their overseas connections have made them suspect and led to systematic discrimination against them. In the 1990s, however, the same connections became the source of their prosperity.

Until recently, the government did not try to lead, but simply followed the events. The much-trumpeted reforms of 2002 by and large were hardly anything more than the admission of the situation that had been existing for a few years by then. The official abolition (or near-abolition) of the public distribution system did not count for much, since this system ceased to operate outside Pyongyang around 1995.

But the North Korean economy has indeed come a long way from its Stalinist ways. Now the government has neither money nor support nor the political will to revive the Stalinist-style central economy. There is no way back, only forward. Stalinism is dead. Welcome to capitalism, comrades!

BBC
Lucy Jones
4/13/2004

“Got any nuclear weapons for sale?” is the response Briton Roger Barrett usually gets when he tells people at Beijing cocktail parties that he invests in North Korea.
The country’s admission to a nuclear weapons programme and its listing on George W Bush’s “axis of evil” means most people are staying well away.

But Mr Barrett, 49, a former troop commander in the British army who has 10 years experience of doing business in North Korea, recently opened a branch of his consultancy firm, Korea Business Consultants, in Pyongyang.

A self-confessed “business adventurer”, he says there is growing interest in the country after Chairman Kim Jong-il introduced economic reforms in 2002.

It’s like China in the eighties… The market reforms are very evident. It’s an exciting time to join the market.

Robert Barrett, Korea Business Consultants 
He is also the enthusiastic publisher of what must be North Korea’s only business publication – the DPRK Business News Bulletin – which features some of the 250 companies he advises.

“It’s like China in the eighties… The market reforms are very evident. It’s an exciting time to join the market,” he says.

Mr Barrett is not alone.

Even in the middle of a nuclear crisis there are foreign investors in the country, and their numbers are increasing.

They say North Korea is a mineral rich country that needs everything and insist they have to get there first.

They also believe the 2002 economic reform is for real and that the country is gradually moving towards becoming a market economy.

Poverty

The little data there is on the country’s economy is hardly encouraging, though.

There has been a devastating famine and the UN says malnutrition is still widespread.

There are chronic heating and water shortages, and most North Koreans are paid less than £5 a month.

The country also has an appalling human rights record.

A BBC documentary on the country’s gulags this year contained allegations that chemical experiments are being carried out on political prisoners.

Meanwhile, the US says it is “highly likely” that North Korea is involved in state-sponsored trafficking of heroin.

In the political arena, the second round of six-nation talks aimed at resolving the nuclear crisis ended in Beijing in February without agreement, which means US and Japanese sanctions will remain in place.
‘Communism’ tourism

But the foreign entrepreneurs in North Korea are not put off.

Some are helped by UN employees who have worked in Pyongyang (among the few people to have had contact with the regime there) and many have a track record in China.

Pack a torch, conduct business meetings on the street to avoid big brother listening in and have plenty of “Asian patience” for the endless red-tape, they advise.

An Austrian company is reportedly buying pianos from the North Koreans, a French television station uses North Korean artists to produce cartoons, while a Singapore-based firm is developing forestry and tourism.

The Singaporeans intend to offer “adventure” stays on their North Korean forestry plantations.

Meanwhile, Western tourist agencies are gearing up to offer the last chance to see communism in action, and Fila and Heineken have reportedly entered into sponsorship deals with the North Korean regime.

North Korean labour

A German, Jan Holtermann owner of the computer firm KCC Europe, is putting North Korea online.

He hopes that by being there first he will be able to eventually tap into North Korean computer talent.

The country’s small number of internet users currently dial-up to Chinese providers, a costly process at about £1 a minute.

Mr Holtermann’s customers, who he hopes will number 2,000 by the end of the year, will have unlimited access for £400 a month.

As only a few North Koreans are permitted to have telephones, and as the internet service is costly, Mr Holtermann expects his customers to be government ministries, news agencies and aid organisations.

He has invested £530,000 in the venture, intending to get first pick when North Korean software programmers come onto the market.

“They are very talented,” he says.

“It’s this capacity we want to sell in Europe.”

The parcel delivery company DHL has operated in Pyongyang since 1997, when it was invited there by the government, and now has North Korean light manufacturing, textile and beverage companies on its books.

It sees itself as contributing to the country’s “slow but increasingly visible” economic reform programme.

British consultants

Former bank employee Mr Barrett is convinced North Korea is opening up much quicker than people think.

There are opportunities in banking, minerals, agriculture and telecommunications, he insists.

“There is the odd story of something going wrong,” he says.

“But when you walk around you notice construction going on.

“The people are feeling a change.”

High level contacts

But how to do business with one of the most isolationist regimes on earth?

Contacts are essential, say businessmen.

Though even knowing a North Korean minister is not enough, says Gerald Khor of Singapore-based forestry company Maxgro Holdings.

“You have to go above the ministers to the cabinet. You don’t have to know a member but you need to know people who can influence them,” he says.

“It is very important to get the favour of the dear leader (Kim Jong-il). Because when he says something, it gets done.”

Through a former UN employee, Maxgro got Kim Jong-il’s attention and has invested $2m in forestry, agreeing the state gets 30% of the profits.

“Kim Jong-il is an environmentalist,” Mr Khor says.

“We are confident we’ll get a return.

“We have dwindling supplies and this is high quality wood.”

To locate the forests elsewhere would cost much more, he adds.

Forced to change

Economic reforms introduced by the government in 2002 are seen as the first move away from central planning since the country adopted communism in 1945.

The government has been forced to change in order to survive, especially now it can no longer barter with Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union, experts say.

“There is no real option not to carry out these reforms,” says UK-based Keith Bennett, who has taken trade missions to Pyongyang.

“But people don’t know where they will lead.

Chinese leaders have impressed on Kim Jong-il that there can be economic reform without fundamental political change.”

Way up on North Korea’s border with Russia and China is the Tumen economic zone, which was established in 1991 with UN help to lure investors.

The project has only had limited success and may indicate the type of problems those investing elsewhere in North Korea may face.

The North Korean section of the zone, Rajin-Songbong, hosts foreign-run hotels, telecommunications and restaurants, but that is about all.

“The North Koreans have sometimes been very co-operative and sometimes not, maybe because of policy change,” says Tsogtsaikhan Gombo, from the UN’s development agency.

“They were also disappointed when they didn’t see the investment.”

Vibrant Chinese economic zones nearby have put up fierce competition.

But even opening the door just slightly to let in capitalism has greatly improved the lives of the 150,000 people living in the zone, says Mr Gombo.

And many foreigners insist that small investments elsewhere in the country may have similar results.

KCNA
4/6/2002

Kim Yong Sun meets S. Korean delegation

Kim Yong Sun, chairman of the Korean Asia-Pacific Peace Committee, met a delegation that had attended a ceremony of commissioning the Pyonghwa Motors General Factory at the People’s Palace of Culture today and had a talk with it in an atmosphere overflowing with compatriotic feelings.

Setting Up Shop in N. Korea: Car Firm Plunges In
Los Angeles Times
Barbara Demick
3/28/2002

Company linked to Sun Myung Moon’s church is to open an assembly plant in April.

At first glance, there couldn’t be a more improbable business proposition than opening an automobile factory in North Korea, where hardly anybody owns a car or knows how to drive. Even more surprising is that the company making this investment is an affiliate of the Unification Church, headed by the thumpingly anti-communist Rev. Sun Myung Moon.

Against all odds, Pyonghwa Motors next month is opening a $55-million auto assembly plant where there once were rice paddies in the western coastal city of Nampo. It is one of the largest private ventures in North Korea, a bastion of militant communism that only recently has cracked open its doors to foreign investment in a desperate quest for hard currency.

“This country was so closed that nobody, not God, not Buddha, could get in the last 50 years without a visa,” Park Sang Kwon, the president of Pyonghwa Motors, said at a news conference Friday in Seoul, the South Korean capital, where the company is headquartered. “Nobody, even in my own company, believed it was possible to build an automobile in North Korea. Only I believed.” Initially, the assembly line will turn out Fiat Sienas, a compact model, but Pyonghwa Motors hopes to develop its own model for the North Koreans.

The communist government, which also owns a stake in the company, has contracted to buy 1,000 cars in the first year. After that, the company hopes to sell vehicles in China, Russia and, if the political situation allows, South Korea. The plant has the potential to turn out 20,000 cars a year.

The unlikely relationship between the Unification Church and North Korea dates to 1991, when Moon visited the country’s founder and chief ideologue, Kim Il Sung. That paved the way for Moon, an archconservative who nonetheless supports dialogue with the North, to buy two hotels in Pyongyang, the North Korean capital, including the 161-room Potonggang, which boasts of being the only hotel in the isolated country with satellite television.

The North Koreans also allowed Moon’s followers to develop Jongju, the northwestern town where Moon was born, into a pilgrimage site–another coup for the Unification Church because the communist nation bans all practice of religion.

In addition to the car assembly plant, Pyonghwa wants to open a department store, gas stations, automobile showrooms and what the company described as a “World Peace Center” in Pyongyang to promote cultural and educational exchanges.

Pyonghwa officials say they hope the investments will advance the reconciliation process between the two Koreas, estranged for more than half a century. Indeed, the name of the company means “peace” in Korean.

“We will show the North Koreans brotherly love through this project,” Park, the company president, said Friday, flashing slides for journalists of North and South Korean employees working together in building the assembly plant, then clowning around as they pose for a photograph.

From a financial viewpoint, the company hopes that low labor costs will allow it to turn out automobiles more cheaply than elsewhere in Asia. The company now employs about 200 North Korean auto workers who are paid an average of $120 a month.

“We are bound to succeed,” Park said. “There are no unions, low labor costs. The workers are very clever, very quick to learn, and they are harshly controlled by their superiors.”

Among the extraordinary problems that Pyonghwa has encountered in trying to do business in North Korea is the erratic power supply and poor transportation system. The new plant is situated next to a 2-year-old highway linking Nampo with Pyongyang, 25 miles to the northeast. However, the road was constructed with picks and shovels; it does not accommodate heavy trucks well and frequently needs repairs. Merely putting up a sign over the front gate of the factory was a struggle, in which capitalism ultimately triumphed over communism.

“This is the first time anybody was allowed to put a company logo on a billboard in North Korea,” Park said.

The plant’s grand opening, scheduled for April 5, comes as North Korea is going through a particularly rough patch in trying to attract foreign investment. The rapprochement with South Korea has ground to a halt, while President Bush’s characterization of North Korea as part of an “axis of evil” has hardly induced companies to invest.

There also have been a number of well-publicized failures. Hyundai, the South Korean conglomerate, recently had to turn to its own government for a bailout to rescue its 3-year-old venture bringing tourists to North Korea’s scenic Mt. Kumgang.

“We advise companies to look carefully, to cross-check everything as much as possible before doing business in North Korea,” said Jean-Jacques Grauhar, secretary-general of the European Chamber of Commerce in Seoul. “We don’t think the legal framework is satisfactory at this stage, and the general way of doing business is not yet developed.”

In addition to its assembly line, Pyonghwa is refurbishing used cars imported from Japan for resale in North Korea. That business opened early last year and has brought in about $300,000 in sales.

There are 3,000 passenger cars in North Korea for a population of 23 million. All are said to belong to the government or top officials.

Pyonghwa also owns a Fiat assembly plant in Vietnam and has tried various automotive projects in China, which so far have been unsuccessful.

The company’s affiliation with the Unification Church is unclear. Several businesspeople in Seoul said it is part of the church, although company officials said it is merely owned by individuals who are church members, including Park, who owns about 80%.

“This really has nothing to do with religion, and the fact that our president is a member of the church doesn’t affect the way the company does business,” said Lee Hyun Tak, a Pyonghwa official.

Unification Church to sell 1,000 cars in N.Korea in ’02
Reuters
Samuel Len
3/22/2002

The automotive arm of South Korea’s Unification Church said on Friday it has finished building a $55 million car assembly plant in famine-hit North Korea, whose government has pledged to buy 1,000 cars each year.

“North Korea wants to develop its own model as soon as possible,” Park Sang-kwon, the company’s president, told a news conference in Seoul.

Business prospects in the reclusive country seemed to glow shortly after President Kim Dae-jung of South Korea held an unprecedented summit in 2000 with North Korean leader Kim Jong-il.

But relations between the neighbours chilled last year and have come under even greater pressure after President George W. Bush labelled North Korea part of an “axis of evil” in January.

North and South Korea remain technically at war as the 1950-53 Korean War ended without a peace agreement.

Undaunted by this atmosphere, Pyeongwha Motors Corp, the first South Korean company to build an auto plant in the north, says it sees a burgeoning market.

Pyeongwha, which means “peace” in Korean, is a joint venture with North Korea’s Ryonbong company. The assembly plant in the port city of Nampo will be capable of rolling out up to 20,000 cars annually when it opens on April 5.

Two years ago, Pyongyang completed a spanking new, 10-lane highway linking the port city of Nampo to the capital, he said.

All that’s needed, Pyeongwha says, are cars to fill the empty roads of a country of 23 million people. However, there were just 3,000 passenger cars among the 290,000 to 300,000 vehicles in North Korea in 1999.

NORTH KOREAN CAR EXPORTS?

The Unification Church, founded in 1954 by Reverend Sun Myung Moon and famed for mass wedding ceremonies, is also a considerable business force in South Korea. Its interests range from refining titanium to pharmaceutical products.

“We were chosen because we approached them with an offer to develop our own offspring,” he said. “We want to fill North Korea with cars and then export them.”

Exports could begin anywhere from 10 to 15 years down the road, with North Koreans preferring to export an indigenous model fitted with a Pyeongwha engine, Park said.

The orders from the North Korean government alone would be enough for the company to break even. Ssales are expected to rise to 2,000 to 3,000 cars next year, he said.

The plant assembles one model for domestic sales, the Siena compact designed by Italy’s Fiat SpA FIA.MI.

Pyeongwha has imported used Japanese cars into North Korea and refurbished for resale using North Korea’s cheap labour. It has been selling 20 to 30 cars a month, at between $10,000 to $15,000, mainly to foreign businessmen and diplomats, Park said.

Park painted a picture of life in the North Korean capital far different from the horrific images of outer regions described by aid workers.

“There’s a nine-hole golf course in the city, as well as a driving range,” built by ethnic Koreans in Japan, Park said.

Wikipedia:

Stockholders
70% Pyonghwa Motors (Seoul) (owned by the Unification Church)
30% Ryonbong Corp.

Car models
Hwiparam (휘파람 – Whistle) – based on the Fiat Siena
Ppeokkugi (뻐꾸기 – Cuckoo) – based on the Fiat Doblò
Premio (also known as Cuckoo 3) – based on a Dandong Shuguang pick-up
Pronto (also known as Cuckoo 2) – based on a Dandong Shuguang SUV
Junma – apparently based on the SsangYong Chairman

Video from DPRK state television

By Keith B. Richburg
Washington Post Foreign Service
Sunday, October 19, 1997; A01

Rare Closeup Reveals a North Korea That No Longer Functions

HAMHUNG, North Korea — A visit to this remote and desolate city near North Korea’s eastern coast provides a rare glimpse of the country’s near-total economic collapse. The crisis is over food — or the lack of it — but the country’s problems run much deeper, to the core of a socialist system that simply has ceased to function.

You can start at Hamhung’s local hospital, a dilapidated, cavernous 1,000-bed facility without lights, where the stench of urine fills the dark corridors, and patients recovering from surgery writhe in pain on dirty sheets in unheated rooms. There are no antibiotics, no intravenous drips and no stretchers, so workers carry patients on their backs. There were only 250 patients during a recent visit; few sick people bother coming, since the hospital has no food and no medicine.

“We have a shortage of anesthesia, so the patients have to go through pain during surgery,” said Dr. Lee Huyn Myung, as he points to a man gripping his mattress after a colon operation. Most of the patients have rectal, stomach or liver problems, the result of slow starvation, he said. Almost all are malnourished.

From the hospital, travel across this city past gray cement buildings that look half-finished or simply abandoned, past lots strewed with broken-down Soviet-era trucks that cannot be started because there are no spare parts. Then drive down narrow, winding mud roads until you reach the Hamhung orphanage and talk to its director, Choi Kwang Oak.

The orphanage is divided into several small rooms, with playpens for the smallest infants. Almost all the children are malnourished, with browning hair, bald patches on their scalps and sores on their heads and faces. The most severely malnourished are listless and unresponsive.

There are 198 children under age 4 at the orphanage, and about 20 percent are expected to die because they arrived too late to be helped. About 70 percent of the children here were orphaned when their parents died of malnutrition or disease, Choi said. The other 30 percent simply were abandoned and left for dead by parents too poor and too hungry to feed them.

“Some parents just put them outside on the street and leave them to nature,” Choi said. “Sometimes people pick them up and bring them here.” And other times? “They just die.”

The orphanage is surrounded by high hills covered with graves and stone markers. It is an old burial ground, she said. But there are also many new graves.

The scenes of deprivation and hardship go on and on. There is a massive 1950s-era hotel in the town, but it is cold and apparently empty. Since power is rationed, the electricity has been turned off.

There are factories here, but they stand idle. No smoke comes from the chimneys; there is no activity inside the gates. Outside, people mill around, apparently with little to do. Nearly everyone here — hospital workers, hotel employees, even the official government guides — talked openly about the fuel shortage and lack of electricity.

And not even the capital, Pyongyang, about 120 miles to the southwest, is immune from the hardship, despite long being maintained as a showcase city for outsiders to witness the apparent success of the country’s socialist system. Diplomats and aid workers say some parts of the city have been without water for days. Electricity is strictly rationed, and floodlights are turned off at some of the towering monuments early in the evenings. By 10 p.m., the city is plunged into darkness, with no street lights on and no lights visible from the surrounding high-rise apartment buildings.

What you also see are bicycles. Visitors to North Korea before the famine marveled at the lack of bicycles on the streets, even as people walked for miles or waited endlessly for buses. Bicycles were officially discouraged, since they promoted individualism and could allow people to move more freely. But now that fuel imports from the former Soviet Union have stopped, and with North Korea lacking hard currency to buy what it needs on the world market, many people use bicycles since buses sometimes do not run.

Last week, U.S. Rep. Tony P. Hall (D-Ohio) and this correspondent were permitted an unusual look behind the regime’s wall of secrecy, traveling into areas rarely seen by outsiders, and never by an American journalist. In addition to Hamhung, which we reached in an old Soviet-made helicopter, we also took a 3 1/2-hour drive north from Pyongyang on the country’s main north-south highway into the rugged mountains of Chagang province to the small town of Tongsin, stopping briefly along the way in a slightly larger town, Huichon.

From the air, the extent of the drought damage was apparent — dry brown earth in many areas, as well as dried-up riverbeds and hills that had been cleared of all their trees. Years of overuse of petroleum-based fertilizers have destroyed much of the arable land, experts say, and hills have been stripped of their topsoil because farmers use it to cover paddy fields, causing increased flooding in the plain.

On the ground, the damage becomes more evident. Buildings look abandoned or unfinished until, on closer inspection, you see faces in the holes where the windows should be, and you realize the buildings are occupied. Huichon, particularly, looked like a ghost town — sprawling factories fallen into disuse, cement buildings missing large sections and darkness everywhere because there is no electricity.

In Tongsin, more a large village than a town, the local hospital was washed away in last year’s floods, and the makeshift one built on the same site from the debris has a few patients but no medicines, heat, or supplies. Three teenage girls were checked in because they were starving; from their body sizes, they looked more like 5- or 6-year-olds, with normal-sized heads for their age but tiny necks and limbs.

What emerged from the three-day trip, conducted mostly in the presence of government escorts, was a snapshot of a country in economic free fall and a surprising willingness on the part of the authorities to allow outsiders to see even the worst of the crisis — like the hospital in Hamhung.

“The most difficult part as a doctor is we could treat them well if we had food and medicine,” said Lee, the deputy director of the hospital in Hamhung. “We know how to treat them — but we can’t.” Many patients die here, but Lee says he cannot disclose the figure because death rates are kept secret in this strictly controlled society.

“What you saw is pretty widespread,” said O. Omawale, the special representative in North Korea for the United Nations Children’s Fund. “I have seen kids with IV drips, with tubing you wouldn’t put in your car, and the [fluid] reservoir is a bare bottle.”

North Korea’s predicament largely has been portrayed as a massive food shortage brought on by twin natural disasters — destructive floods last year followed by this year’s drought and record-high summer temperatures. But what was revealed on this trip is that the food crisis is just part of an overall breakdown of the country’s state-controlled and centrally planned system. It has been a long and painfully slow descent that began with the collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 and the loss of invaluable subsidies, the major petroleum supplier, and the principal market for exports.

In Hamhung, Lee was asked how long the hospital had been in its state of collapse and shortages. The deputy director replied, “It started six or seven years ago, but it became worse this year.” Six or seven years ago would date the decline to the time the Soviet Union collapsed.

Relief workers in Pyongyang seem in agreement that the food crisis, reaching famine proportions in some areas of the remote and mountainous north-central provinces, is just one more tangible sign of a total systemic collapse. “It’s a large economic crisis, but it’s not being addressed,” said Christian C. Lemaire, the resident representative of the U.N. Development Program. “All we want to do is talk about the food problem.”

Neither, it seems, does the North Korean government have a strategy for what to do to stop the free fall.

One of the world’s last Marxist states, North Korea in many ways resembles a theocracy more than a doctrinaire socialist state, with the country’s late founder and revered “Great Leader,” Kim Il Sung, as its high priest. His portrait still hangs everywhere — even over the hospital in Hamhung — and the north-south highway is lined with billboards extolling his exploits.

Kim’s guiding philosophy is called juche, or self-reliance, and it propelled the country’s headlong rush to industrialize in the 1950s and ’60s. It also has made it more difficult for North Korea’s secretive rulers to admit to outsiders the extent of the crisis and to ask for outside help.

On Oct. 8, three years after the death of Kim Il Sung, his son, Kim Jong Il, officially took over leadership of the ruling Korean Workers’ Party. Now some analysts are wondering whether the younger Kim might be willing to break from some of the country’s socialist practices and adopt the kind of reforms needed for the country to survive.

Some relief workers here claim already to see some early, tentative signs of an opening. For one, they say, there are now six foreign relief agencies based in Pyongyang and the outlying provinces, while a year ago there were none. The workers’ movements are restricted but, they say, they are slowly making progress in persuading authorities to allow them access to more places.

John Prout, deputy director of the World Food Program in North Korea, said his group had been to 110 of the country’s 209 counties.

There are other small signs, relief workers say. Farmers in the hard-hit northern provinces, particularly near the Chinese border, have been told to fend for themselves, allowing them to trade privately with China. With help from the U.N. Development Program, there have been a few scattered experiments with “micro-credit,” providing money to individual households to buy chickens or goats and allowing them to sell the eggs or milk on the open market.

Some North Korean farmers are said to be “double-cropping,” or planting twice each year — a practice long forbidden by Kim Il Sung. And some North Korea analysts in the United States report that massive collective farms have been reduced in size.

On the helicopter trip across the northern mountains, a few small and scattered patches of green were spotted, suggesting that some farmers in remote areas were starting private plots. In some villages, beans were being grown on makeshift terraces in back yards.

“Living here you can really see things change,” said Lemaire, the UNDP representative. “But it’s not change that’s coming from the top. It’s coming from the base.”

A hint of the continued hard-line views of top North Korean officials came during the trip. In one meeting, last Tuesday evening, Deputy Foreign Minister Kim Gye Gwan warmly thanked Rep. Hall for U.S. food aid. “We are grateful to the United States government for the several tons of humanitarian food aid as well as the active efforts of the NGOs,” or nongovernmental organizations, Kim said. But a few minutes later, Kim told Hall that North Korea and the United States “are in a state of hostile relations.”

No one is predicting that the hardships will lead to any kind of popular disaffection with the regime — and in fact, many here believe attitudes will only harden.

The personality cult built up around Kim Il Sung remains deep and pervasive, and now officials seem to be trying to transfer some of the popular affection from father to son.

In a rare interview, Foreign Minister Kim Yong Nam referred to Kim Jong Il as “the people’s leader, who is acknowledged as a man of ability,” a man “who has produced immortal exploits,” a general who “enjoys the absolute trust and support of our people,” and who embodies “the destiny of our nation as well as the future of our country.”