(THIS ARTICLE IS MACHINE TRANSLATED by Google from Norwegian)
Almost no one knows who is hiding behind the name "Bandi". But he is a writer, and probably also a member of the North Korean Writers' Association where he has a high status. He is and must remain anonymous, which is a pretty paradoxical situation for any writer with a certain amount of ambition. But unlike many others who have jumped off to South Korea, where they like to write and publish books about life during the brutal Kim regime, Bandi has remained in the north. And in a way, he represents the entire literary realism of the nation.
Regime Challenges. In his stories he writes about things that everyone knows, but no dare mention, at least not in book form. The Accusation. Forbidden Stories from Inside North Korea was smuggled out of the country like a handwritten script, since it could not be released in the country: The seven stories multiply in bits and pieces the official image of the nation served by the dictatorship's propaganda apparatus. But for those of us who can read him, Bandi paints pictures of a country in a political, existential and moral hell. Therein lies his realism – and therefore the same realism is forbidden by the country's authorities. Realism as we define it in free, open societies is a utopia for North Korean writers, all of whom must either adhere to the censorship or risk the consequences.
With the stories in The Accusation Bandi challenges both the censorship and the entire Kim regime. He shows us a tyranny that is not only Stalinist, but also theological: Its supreme leader, whether called Kim Il-sung, Kim Jong-il or Kim Jong-un, demands blind obedience and submission from everyone. Over three generations these have represented the omnipotent, omniscient and flawless Stalinist deity.
Author Bandi represents all of North Korea's total literary realism, banned by the country's authorities.
David and Goliath. Theology manifests itself in the narratives: None of the protagonists have any chance of changing the state of things – you simply cannot resist the power of authority. Of course, Bandi will show just that – the little person against the system, the individual against the state, the individual against the majority – in other words, the tragedy in its classic form. But he does not use myths from Greek antiquity, however, everyday situations that arise around him. In other words, it's all about not failing, with or against one's own will – which often has drastic or even catastrophic consequences. As in the story of the toddler mother Gyeong-hee: She successfully runs a government business in the capital, Pyongyang, and therefore enjoys the respect and status and, moreover, the privileges of being both a party member and married to a propaganda leader. But the couple has one problem: The two-year-old screams in horror every time he sees pictures of Karl Marx or Kim Il-sung. He connects both to large demonstrations where raging crowds roar and show off partisan slogans.
The family lives in a block facing Kim Il-sung Square. On the opposite side of the square are government offices where large posters of Marx and Kim Il-sung hang permanently on the walls – which is why the married couple pulls the curtains every night so that the boy does not scream. But the party secretary in the neighborhood nevertheless becomes suspicious and confronts the mother with the covered windows.
The family breaks with the rest of the block of flats where all curtains are properly pulled off, which can be interpreted as a code, an attempt at espionage, and in its naivety Gyeong-hee tells of the son's horror, not only for Marx, but also for his father Kim Il- sung. She jokes and whips it away like innocent nonsense in a child's head, and thinks it solves the problem. But she is wrong: The party secretary reports both her and the man, and both are accused of having an unfortunate and unforgivable influence on the son, in order to sabotage the party's ideology and thereby undermine the legitimate legitimacy of the regime. They are sentenced to lasting banishment, and within a few hours the small family is transported out of town to an unknown location, far away from the capital. North Korean David loses once again for Goliath.
They are forced to laugh and sing when they really want to scream and howl.
The future. Many literatures before Bandi have pointed to the utopian time aspect of the Communist state: the hard work that everyone must stand together in the near future will ensure all citizens a good, safe and comfortable life in a modern society. This is what one often calls the myth of the promised land. To date, the contours of this country have never been seen materializing in the People's Republic of Korea. Nor was it ever seen in the Soviet Union under Stalin. Around 1930 Andrej Platonov wrote construction trench, a novel that was soon banned and first re-published under Gorbachev's perestroika in the late 80s. In a subtle way, Platonov shows that laborers gradually begin to doubt the future land; they work hard, and more than hard, but nothing changes for the better, on the contrary. The strange thing is that Platonov was not a system critic, but a Bolshevik; he participated in the civil war and made every effort to fulfill his duties to the young Soviet state. And like many other idealists, he believed in the utopia of a better society. According to the party propaganda, this was about to materialize, but everyone can see that it is not happening. Like many others, Platonov also saw that ideals changed: they solidified into rigid, dogmatic ideology. And Bandi's characters, from a hardworking and loyal proletariat as well as party members, are almost working their lives to create the ideal society – the classless – which they have dreamed of for so long, but which they eventually realize will never be realized. Poverty and wear and tear continue, but the utopia disappears – and then the future and the meaning of life disappear. The best among them die – of heart failure, or a bullet in the temple.
The Red string. In the story "Pandemonium" the married couple Oh has picked up the granddaughter of the daughter who is pregnant and needs relief. On the way home, their train is emptied of passengers at a small station, where there are already hundreds of others in the same situation. It is raining and everyone is seeking cover in the small station building, which will soon be explosive. In the tumult that ensues, the grandson breaks his leg and Mr Oh gets his pelvis twisted out of joint. Then Mrs. Oh decides to go on foot to a relative some distance away, who has a soothing remedy for her daughter's pregnancy. She sets out on the completely empty highway and after a while is taken back by a never-ending car license. She tries to hide, but a friendly, dressed-up man leases her to a waiting limousine. In the open door no one stands inferior to Kim Il-sung. With an indulgent smile, he kindly asks what she's doing all alone on the highway, and she explains her daughter's condition. Kim Il-sung replies that her daughter should be admitted to the maternity ward at the best hospital in Pyongyang, and then Mrs. Oh is transported in the limousine, first to her relative, and then back to the train station. The entire appearance of the regime leader has been filmed by reporters and camera people, and is broadcast in replay both on radio and television for several days in a row. Mrs. Oh blushes with shame every time she sees her own face on the screen. Both she and her husband realize that she has been used in a propaganda stunt, set in stage to build up under the lie of Kim Il-sung as the great benefactor of the people. As both of you know, the trains were emptied and the highway closed to give Kim free passage, and also to not let him meet his "beloved" people – living in deep, hopeless poverty. A royal diversionary maneuver, in which the majesty himself is spared the truth of the kingdom's condition. The state media serves the nation's footage of a leader bestowing on a poor little woman of her people's grace and favor, all while hearing in the background the sounds of crowds singing thanks to her great leader for a happy and happy life. As Mrs. Oh thinks, no one dares to point out the lie, but instead participates in the same choir that honors Kim and the Communist Party. To utter a single negative word about him and the party is lethal, for silencers and spies are on every side, catching every little criticism of the regime.
They are all locked in a happy hell.
Language thief. Kim has clearly mastered the language. All around him, everyone is laughing like happy, grateful parrots. As Mrs. Oh tells her husband, they are all locked in a "happy hell," a persistent giant lie, where a sadistic tyrant forces all his slaves to laugh and sing when they really want to scream and howl at the unbearable suffering he inflicts. them. One could say that this is Bandi's double intention: to show what kind pandemonium People have to endure, what kind of wild and absurd atrocities they have to accept as their reality – and how they do it. The ordinary North Koreans' daily struggle for honesty and humanity goes like a thread through these stories – the hopeless fates that are drowning under the immense pressure of a merciless dictatorship. This exhibits both Kim Il-sung, his son and grandson as three true fuckers, a bunch of men completely devoid of scruples.
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