Last orders in Pyongyang

Abstract

Foreign aid workers in North Korea have been told to leave by the end of the year, as the country prepares to end its dependence on international aid. 4 years of good harvests have buoyed government confidence, but aid workers do not share the officials' faith. Jonathan Watts reports. Of all the bars in all the world, there is probably none as exclusive, surreal, or intriguing as the Random Access Club (RAC) in Pyongyang. During the past 10 years, there have also been few institutions that are quite so central to the mental well-being of the customers or the physical health of an entire country. Open for business only on Friday nights, the RAC is a watering hole for North Korea's tiny expatriate community: the 300 foreign residents—mostly aid workers—who are allowed to live among the 22 million population of the planet's most reclusive nation. But its customer base is about to collapse thanks to what one foreign resident described as the biggest change in the humanitarian situation in 10 years. In August, the government told foreign NGOs that they must leave by the end of the year. Groups such as the World Food Programme (WFP) and the International Federation of the Red Cross and Red Crescent—which have fed more than a fifth of the 23 million population and provided two-thirds of the country's essential drugs since the famines of the mid 1990s—have been told they must stop providing food and medicine on Jan 1 and focus their work on economic development. While North Korea was dependent on food aid, the presence of aid workers was tolerated by the government as a necessary evil. But after 4 years of improved harvests, and increasing inflows of rice and maize from China and South Korea, the authorities say they no longer need humanitarian support from the WFP—an organisation that insists on far stricter monitoring. The government insists this is part of a move away from shameful dependency on outside support. Instead of charity, it wants economic assistance to develop its infrastructure. It hopes that the progress in six-party nuclear talks will lead to more investment and financial support. But many in Pyongyang's tiny foreign community believe there are other motives. “They are worried for security reasons. Some officials believe the NGOs have a political agenda”, says one aid worker who explained the government's concerns in terms of the social environment. “This country has undergone a huge change in the past 2 years. People's mindsets have changed.” Government nerves increased earlier this year, when foreign NGOs played a prominent part in Uzbekistan's “Orange Revolution”—which took its colour from the successful Ukranian movement. Although the humanitarian groups in North Korea are very different from the civil rights organisations that contributed to the change in central Asia, they are now looked at with even more suspicion than in the past. Most of the foreign representatives of the 12 NGOs have been told they must pack their bags. In the first instance, they were told their operations would only be allowed to continue if they switched to development—rather than humanitarian—work and used only North Korean staff. More recently, the groups were told that they could station one foreigner in Pyongyang. Glyn Ford, a European MP and expert on North Korea, said such conditions would probably be unacceptable to donors such as the European Union, which has provided about €500 000 (US$600 000) of aid over the past 5 years. “We insist on monitoring. One member of staff won't be enough for that”, he says. With negotiations over the pull-back continuing, the impact is still unclear. The biggest international group, the WFP was feeding 6·5 million people at the start of this year. By Dec 31, it must stop all humanitarian work. The representative Richard Ragan is trying to maintain the organisation's presence in North Korea by persuading donors to switch to development programmes, such as food-for-work operations on dams and roads. The extent to which this is possible will only be known after a meeting at the group's headquarters in Rome on Oct 25 and during a visit by the WFP head James Morris to Pyongyang in early December. At the most, the WFP's operation—once the biggest in the world—is likely to be scaled down. Ragan says this will soon start to hurt. “In the short term people are going to suffer. There is a large portion of the population that in the past 10 years has had inadequate access to food.” But most other NGOs and diplomats say the biggest worry is not food—much of which already leaks its way into markets—but medicine. According to WHO, North Korea relies on outside help, mostly through the Red Cross, for two-thirds of its antibiotics, painkillers, and antiworming treatments. On Jan 1, this is all supposed to stop. Instead, the government wants to use domestically produced drugs and to buy them on the world markets. It has authorised production at two new pharmaceutical factories, one Swiss, one partly South Korean. But even if they have a smooth start and work at full capacity, it is unlikely that they will be able to make more than 10 of the 200 different types of drugs currently provided free by the international community. They are also likely to cost more and only be available over the counter to the elite minority who have access to foreign currency stores. Aid workers warn that the sudden change will lead to more deaths, illnesses and suffering—particularly among children and the elderly. Eigel Sorensen, the WHO representative in Pyongyang, says he supports North Korea's move towards economic development rather than subsistence humanitarian charity. But that it needs to be phased in more slowly. “I am concerned about the supply of essential medicines. I think this country is very dependent on outside supplies”, he says. “International organisations are the main source for antibiotics, painkillers, and other basic essential medicines. If that has to stop from next year, I don't think there is enough domestic capacity.” Foreigners in Pyongyang arguably face more restrictions than their counterparts in any other country. They cannot make private visits to the homes of North Koreans, they cannot travel outside of Pyongyang without permission and they are not supposed to exchange their dollars and euros for local currency. PanelA history of humanitarian aid in North Korea1950s–1970sAfter the Korean war, NGO activity, mainly by the Japanese and North Korean Red Cross Societies, focuses on repatriation of Japanese and Korean residents.1984The North Korean Red Cross Society sends relief goods including rice, cloth, cement, and medicines, to the South to assist flood victims in the south.1990North and South Korea both join the UN.1992North Koreans cut down on eating amid diminishing food supplies.1995July–August: Floods affect an estimated 5·2 million people in North Korea, destroying crops.September: North Korea appeals for UN assistance and reduces some grain rations. The international federation of the Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies launches its first appeal for North Korea.1996Rains damage grain-producing areas of North Korea.1997UN requests emergency humanitarian aid of US$120 million to ease starvation. Drought hits agricultural areas.1998North Korea says families now responsible for feeding themselves.September: Médecins Sans Frontières withdraws from the country.1999North Korea allows nuclear inspections in exchange for food. South Korea's Red Cross sends fertiliser to the North and US says it will provide 400 000 tonnes of food aid.July–August: Floods hit eight provinces in North Korea, damaging more than 50 000 hectares of crops.December: Oxfam withdraws from North Korea.2000Action Contre le Faim withdraws. Japan says it will give North Korea 100 000 tonnes of rice, contingent on normalising discussions. More droughts, sustained tropical storms in August.2002New economic adjustment policy leads to increased wages and higher prices on staple foods.2005North Korean government tells all foreign aid workers—including those from the World Food Programme—to leave by the end of the year.Source: http://www.ifrc.org 1950s–1970s After the Korean war, NGO activity, mainly by the Japanese and North Korean Red Cross Societies, focuses on repatriation of Japanese and Korean residents. 1984 The North Korean Red Cross Society sends relief goods including rice, cloth, cement, and medicines, to the South to assist flood victims in the south. 1990 North and South Korea both join the UN. 1992 North Koreans cut down on eating amid diminishing food supplies. 1995 July–August: Floods affect an estimated 5·2 million people in North Korea, destroying crops. September: North Korea appeals for UN assistance and reduces some grain rations. The international federation of the Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies launches its first appeal for North Korea. 1996 Rains damage grain-producing areas of North Korea. 1997 UN requests emergency humanitarian aid of US$120 million to ease starvation. Drought hits agricultural areas. 1998 North Korea says families now responsible for feeding themselves. September: Médecins Sans Frontières withdraws from the country. 1999 North Korea allows nuclear inspections in exchange for food. South Korea's Red Cross sends fertiliser to the North and US says it will provide 400 000 tonnes of food aid. July–August: Floods hit eight provinces in North Korea, damaging more than 50 000 hectares of crops. December: Oxfam withdraws from North Korea. 2000 Action Contre le Faim withdraws. Japan says it will give North Korea 100 000 tonnes of rice, contingent on normalising discussions. More droughts, sustained tropical storms in August. 2002 New economic adjustment policy leads to increased wages and higher prices on staple foods. 2005 North Korean government tells all foreign aid workers—including those from the World Food Programme—to leave by the end of the year. Source: http://www.ifrc.org The work can be harrowing. Although the worst of the food crisis passed more than 5 years ago, some areas still suffer from poor nutrition and a lack of basic medicines. In remote outposts, WFP monitors can be extremely isolated. In Hyesan—a 4 day drive from Pyongyang—the organisation's representative lives alone for 8 weeks in a basic hotel where the temperature in the lobby can fall as low as minus 17 degrees in the winter. There are no other foreigners, their local guides leave them at the weekends, and they are not allowed to socialise privately with Koreans. In Pyongyang, the situation is not nearly as bad. Many visitors are surprised at the beauty of this showcase city. Compared to most capitals, it is clean, quiet, and safe. There is sufficient food, some fine duck and noodle restaurants, and even a little capitalist entertainment in the form of the casino, karaoke bar, and golf course at the Yanggakdo hotel. In addition, years of pure ideology—the utter subjection of the individual to the collective will of the state embodied by the leader Kim Jong-il—have produced some impressive (or scary, depending on your point of view) cultural marvels, such as the circus and the performances by young dancers and musicians at the children's palace. Those looking on the positive side of life in North Korea also point out the friendliness, innocence, and high levels of education of many of the people they meet, as well as the cleanliness of the air in a country starved of energy and short on traffic. Because of this, and frequent blackouts, Pyongyang is probably the best capital in the world for star-gazing. But the political problems undermine most of these benefits. Most foreigners accept their phones are bugged. Some suspect that much of what they see during inspections is staged. Even among the old-hands who have been in the country for years, many say they have never made a Korean friend. This is largely because North Korea is gripped by a siege mentality—and not without justification. The country has been in a state of hot and cold war with the USA since 1950. Outsiders are seen as potential spies or sources of ideological impurity. There is good reason for the government to fear charity. Every smile or hand-out from a foreign aid worker undermines the state's xenophobic propaganda and philosophy of “juche” self-sufficiency. The WFP's mission in North Korea is the only one where aid monitors do not have unrestricted access to the entire country. But the UN organisation has gradually widened its focus, pushing back the boundaries where it operates, expanding its presence to 42 foreign and 70 domestic staff, and meeting regularly with thousands of local officials who might otherwise never come into contact with a foreigner. Its monitoring ambitions remain the same as when the RAC was named: random access to all parts of the country. This is the aspect of aid work that North Korea fears the most. Although the food and drugs are humanitarian, their side-effect is political. As most of the customers in the RAC will testify, one of the biggest changes since the aid operation began is in attitudes. 10 years ago, most North Koreans would turn their backs on a foreigner, now they are almost as likely to smile. That, more than anything, may be why the RAC could soon be losing most of its customers. The government has ordered all humanitarian work to end by the end of the year. Negotiations are still underway regarding what that will mean, but one resident estimates that as many as 80 of the 120 aid officials in Pyongyang will have to pack their bags and leave by Dec 31. The mood in the RAC has never been more gloomy. Out will go most of the young blood. Those who remain are likely to be diplomats, a sharply reduced corps of aid workers, five English teachers, and a handful of businessmen. “It'll be like going back to 1994”, comments one regular at the bar. “The jokes these days are black ones about all the second-hand fridges and cars that will flood into Pyongyang's markets at the end of the year”, says another. It is still possible that as one door closes others will open. North Korea welcomes economic development in the form of investors and technical support for infrastructure projects. The government wants to boost the tourist industry. A new railway is about to open across the demilitarised zone that will increase the flow of visitors from South Korea. The growing influence of Beijing is bringing in more people and goods from China. Progress in six-nation nuclear talks could also mean more atomic energy agency inspectors and diplomats from Japan and the USA. But ready or not, North Korea wants its independence back. It wants its future foreign guests to be visiting town on short-term visas, not moving in for years on end and setting up their own social club. For North Koreans and expats, there will be plenty of other bars, but at the RAC, it is time to drink up. The government may soon be calling last orders.