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Indoctrination begins with the children. Their step brisk, their clear voices echoing through the broad and near empty streets of Pyongyang, children can be seen and heard marching to school. They also march to work and study sessions, some as late as 11 p.m. In top-of-the-lung, declamatory style, they keep step and shout back programmed answers describing the young Kim catching a rainbow, stoning hated Japanese ships at anchor, or diligently studying his lessons. Says Mrs. Kim Yung Suk, 55, principal of the September 15 Nursery School: "The great leader told us there is nothing in our country but the children, and they are kings. I used to hear children crying, but not any more. That is why all the people follow the teachings of the great leader Kim II Sung. All the people love the great leader. In the South the people are miserable. Families are separated, and that is why our President says we must have reunification."
North Koreans know almost nothing about the rest of the world. It is estimated that no more than 100 trusted officials are allowed to leave the country with any frequency. Partly as a result, North Koreans are wary of the foreigner, but very inquisitive. They want to know what his nationality is, where such things as Kodak film come from, and if other countries have subways (Pyongyang's lightly traveled, 15-mile underground railway can only be compared with Moscow's for opulence and cleanliness). North Koreans believe that the South is a pitiful place, instead of the booming—if problem-filled—country it is. Out of ignorance, but also out of a nationalism they share with the South, North Koreans are convinced not only that their country is the best in the world, but that they can accomplish any task to which they set their minds. All personal and national goals can be accomplished in the spirit of juche, or self-reliance.
In the countryside, there are hints that life still has much of its traditional character. Old-style tile roofs with gracefully upturned corners mark the many individual family houses still prevalent in the villages, while oxcarts and even pet animals are seen in farming communities. At rice-planting time, as in South Korea, everyone is in the fields, old people as well as children. New technology, however, is being applied, and there are plenty of tractors and rice-transplanting machines at work. The military is more visible in the countryside than in the city. Bridges and major roads have guardhouses, searchlights and portable roadblocks. At rural stations, soldiers can be frequently seen boarding and leaving trains.
It is in Pyongyang, however, that Kim II Sung's new order is more deeply felt. For a city of 1.3 million people, it is curiously still. Factories with as many as a thousand people operate silently behind closed doors. Working hours are staggered, which means that the streets are often more crowded at night than during the day. In Pyongyang, smartly dressed police direct the city's light traffic, but it is the drivers of official Mercedes who take possession of the streets, often scattering the few pedestrians in sight. No wonder bicycles are banned from Pyongyang as "too dangerous."