Shifting attitudes toward life in the Party, as explained by former members

With North Korea’s 7th Party Congress set
to be held on Friday in Pyongyang, Kim Jong Un is expected to reshuffle the
organization of the Worker’s Party in an effort to consolidate his authority.
However, the Party’s authority was significantly curtailed under Kim Jong Il’s
military-centric Songun policy, bringing into question the strength of loyalty
of the estimated 3 million Party members and whether they can fulfill the
expectations of the regime. 

In recent times, reports of satirical
expressions such as “8.3 Party Life” (referring to the practice of paying a
year’s worth of Party fees upfront in exchange for labor exemption) and “Party
membership with one rabbit” (referring to the low cost of membership) have emerged
in the North. Such phrases can be seen as expressions of dissent directed at
the entrenched culture of bribery among cadres, who are responsible for
overseeing Party members. In today’s North Korea,  it is possible for
non-Party members to enjoy the same standards of living as Party members do,
provided that the necessary political connections are maintained. As such, the
act of obtaining Party membership is no longer widely considered to be the rise
in social status that it once was.
 

Another reported phrase translates to “the
moment you enter the Party, you’re as good as a bull with a ring through its
nose,” referring to the restrictions that Party membership places on market
activities. This is also reflected in the preferences of foreign-currency
earning enterprises for recruiting non-members, who are unencumbered by Party
rules.
 

However, while membership for men generally
means being moored to a factory, North Korea’s social structure mandates that
women care for the family, and the primary method for doing so is through
trading at the markets. For this reason, Party membership is seen as more
attractive to women in some cases, as it enables them to spend more time at the
market in place of performing mandatory duties required by the Women’s Union.
In addition, if a Party member were to become a cadre of the women’s union,
bribes can be solicited from other union members, who are the core of North
Korea’s market system. These days, 90 percent of women’s union members work in
the markets. As women now wield considerably more power in the day-to-day
economy, many feel that Women’s Union cadres, who manage and control these
market players, have more influence than Party cadres.
 

In time for the 7th Party Congress, which
is being held for the first time in 36 years, Daily NK spoke with three North
Korean defectors who were once Party members to shed light on the changing
sentiments toward the once prestigious status.
 

Park Tae Min was granted membership in the
1990s after working on the construction of the Kumkang power plant, and
defected in 2014.
 

I received ‘Hwaseon’ Party membership in
1994 at the Kumkang power plant in Kangwon Province, during my fifth year of
serving in the military, and in time for Kim Il Sung’s birthday. ‘Hwaseon’
membership refers to the granting of a Party certificate in the absence of a
standard review process. At the time, I was mobilized to work as a welder in
the plant’s shafts. Some workers would descend into the shafts and not emerge
for a month. For my role, I was in a unit of technicians, so I was sent deeper
than 150 meters underground to weld around the clock.
 

Another worker and I were named
‘innovators’ for our good performance, and the other guy received a color TV as
a reward. Getting membership at the time wasn’t bad, but I was more jealous of
the TV.
 

Up until the 1980s, people would sometimes
cry with joy while swearing loyalty to the Party when they obtained membership,
but from the 1990s that all changed. People now weigh the benefits and
disadvantages of having a Party certificate, similar to how financial
investments are carefully considered in capitalist societies. If the expected
income from bribes after becoming a Party member does not exceed the fees
needed to become one, the decision is made accordingly. The general consensus
in recent times is that Party certificates have little value.
 

Kim Ok Hui obtained membership in 1998 in
North Hamgyong Province, and defected in 2009.

I was dispatched as part of a group from my
school to a farming community and worked there for ten years, just like a
farmer. Despite all the work, it never led to membership opportunities until
the Arduous March (a period of widespread famine). I was able to make good
money by smuggling cows out of the country and into China. A single cow from
our work unit would fetch enough money in China to buy three cows back home.
With that money, I would buy more cows from other work units. I was doing this
together with the leader of my unit and because the village Party secretary found
out about it, we were obliged to pay bribes on holidays and during special
anniversaries. I guess the secretary wanted to show appreciation for this,
because I was nominated for membership in time for the Workers’ Party
foundation day on October 10.
 

Entering the 2000s, the markets became more
active and the preference for Party membership started to die out. Women also
began preferring men who were making good money over Party members. Men who are
Party members are unable to actively assist their wives at the market, and this
often becomes a flashpoint for trouble at home. Most women would ideally hope
to be selling their goods at a market stall, while their husbands use
their bicycles to obtain goods wholesale. However, men who are Party members
have their movements restricted due to weekly Party chonghwa (self-criticism
sessions), and some wives even end up paying for their husbands’ Party dues (2%
of the monthly wage).


Choi Woong Cheol operated a fisheries
station on the coastline of the West Sea near North Pyongan Province, and
defected in 2014.
 

I worked as a fisheries station chief for
nearly a decade, and the most important role at the station was hiring
people. Upon receiving permission to run a fisheries station from the general
staff department of a military base, you’re permitted to hire around 30
people. Aside from the five to seven staff I had to hire because cadres from the
base requested me to, I would choose the rest from non-members. This is because
if you venture out to the high seas and experience a delay getting back, you’ll
face massive losses. A lot of times, you’re out at sea for about a month, and
during those times, the station chief has to individually report on the
activities of each Party member. The Party secretary in charge would then
directly request bribes to account for those members who are absent. So having
Party members out at sea was prohibitively expensive. I always preferred not to
have any.
 

If you’re out fishing, all you’re thinking
about is earning in foreign currency, so to additionally think about Party
duties during that time is burdensome. For this reason, it was also a lot
easier to hire non-members to captain the ship as well. Military cadres say that
all workers of the station should be Party members by principle, but since
they’re dependent on having good relations with you to make money themselves,
they turn a blind eye to recruitment decisions.