The Sound of Dictatorship

Defenders of the New York Philharmonic's trip to Pyongyang this week like to chant the mantra, "It's about music, not politics." If only dictator Kim Jong Il saw it that way. In the context of a totalitarian regime, that's a naïve view, not to say a dangerous one.

In North Korea, the purpose of music, like that of all the arts, is to serve the state. Maestro Kim Jong Il -- who in his youth oversaw the transformation of North Korean cinema, opera and performing arts into "revolutionary" forms -- understands that mission full well. It remains to be seen how he'll use the Philharmonic's concern internally -- North Koreans were informed of the visit only on Friday. But performances of international arts groups are routinely portrayed as admiring vassals carrying tribute to the Great Leader, so there's little reason to think the Philharmonic will rate different treatment. His aim for external consumption is already clear: to give the impression that his barbarous regime is civilized. Look, we even appreciate great Western music played by one of the world's most eminent orchestras.

For a glimpse into the kind of music that North Koreans are accustomed to hearing, consider the concert that took place 10 days ago at the East Pyongyang Grand Theater, the venue where the Philharmonic tonight will play Gershwin's "American in Paris" and Dvorak's "New World Symphony" under the baton of Lorin Maazel. The occasion was the national holiday celebrating Kim Jong Il's 66th birthday. Among the pieces performed by the State Symphony Orchestra was "The Sound of a Horse's Hooves on Mt. Paektu." Paektu is the sacred mountain that Kim hagiographers claim as his birthplace. (In fact he was born in Russia.) Also on the program was Kim's personal anthem, "No Motherland Without You." Its lyrics include:

Even if the world changes hundreds of times

People believe in you, Comrade Kim Jong Il!

We cannot live without you.

According to Kim Young-nam, a composer who escaped from the North 10 years ago, songs extolling Kim and his father, "Eternal Leader" Kim Il Sung, are performed far more often than "Aegukka," the national anthem the Philharmonic will play tonight along with "The Star Spangled Banner."

Evan Ramstad

A small dance group finishes a "fan dance." The performances put on for the Philharmonic in North Korea are also performed in traditional theaters in South Korea, reflecting the two countries' shared cultural heritage.

In a telephone call from Seoul, Kim Young-nam describes his training at a music college in a provincial city he prefers not to name for fear of endangering family members and former colleagues. "In every art form in North Korea," he says, "you have to emphasize the party line and national pride. There is this framework that you have to adhere to. . . . Everything we composed had the goal of extolling Kim Il Sung and Kim Jong Il. The end production of my work was to praise socialism. . . .The performing arts are merely a means to a political objective."

Kim Young-nam recalls two friends who were arrested and punished for playing illegal music. One, he says, was a guitarist caught singing a Korean-language version of Frank Sinatra's hit, "My Way." The other was a pianist who dared to play Irish music. Disco, tango and jazz, he says, "are banned because anything that would produce a capitalist mindset such as love or indulgence are prohibited."

Consider, too, the story of Kim Cheol-woong, First Pianist of the Pyongyang Philharmonic Orchestra until 2001, when he fled to China and then South Korea. "My motivation to escape was not hunger, like for most of the people," he tells me via email from Seoul, "but to be able to play freely the music of my choice."

Kim Cheol-woong was born in Pyongyang to a politically connected family. His father worked for the party and his mother was a professor. In 1981, at the age of 8, he was selected for a special program for young artists at the Pyongyang Music and Dance Institute. Many North Korean musicians study in Russia, and in 1995, the young pianist was dispatched to the Tchaikovsky Conservatory in Moscow.

"The study in Russia changed my life," he says. "I was greatly impressed by the free harmonics in jazz music. I was so shocked when I first heard 'Autumn Leaves' by [French pianist] Richard Clayderman. I had never heard music like that before, and it gave me goose bumps all over my body. I was practicing hard [to learn the piece and] to be able to play it for my girlfriend back in North Korea; but somebody reported the fact to the National Security Agency, and I had to write 10 pages of apology. The fact that the pianist, just because of playing his music, was forced to apologize, caused a great sense of aversion in me, and I decided to seek a freedom of being able to play freely."

INSIDE THE TOUR

• Photos: Tunes of Peace in North Korea

• Diary From the Tour: First Views of Pyongyang

• Players' Perspective: Recalling Historic Trips

• The Philharmonic's Quiet Contessa

• New Sounds for North Korea

Kim Cheol-woong calls the music he heard in Russia "unrestricted" music. "In North Korea, 20th-century modern music among the classical music is forbidden because it is regarded as too liberal." Jazz, too, is barred "because it is seen as 'vicious' music that confuses people's minds. Wagner's music is also restricted because of Nazism; and Rachmaninoff's music is forbidden because he flew to the United States as an exile."

Kim Cheol-woong supports the Philharmonic's visit and favors more cultural exchanges with the North. "I'm sure there will be educational sessions . . . [on] the triumph of Kim Jong Il's political leadership, which resulted in the fact that even the American artistic group is coming to knock their foreheads on the floor in front of General Kim." But "despite such propaganda, there will be many listening to the live broadcast of the concert who will have a feeling that the education they received is wrong."

Kim Seong-min, an exile who runs Free North Korea Radio in Seoul, makes a similar point. The North Korean government "will use the concert as propaganda," he says in a phone call from Seoul. People are "brainwashed" into thinking of North Korean orchestras as the best in the world. But maybe, just maybe, he says, a few listeners will hear the Philharmonic and realize that they have been lied to.

Kim Cheol-woong sees a few small signs of musical opening in North Korea. In a speech last month in London he cited a recent refugee's information that "rock and rap are played and sung in the country these days." He notes, too, that South Korean folk songs that used to be banned are now permitted "as a result of strong public demand." Kim Young-nam, the exiled composer, says he has heard of love songs being performed in North Korea, something that would not have been permitted a few years ago.

Rock, rap, love songs -- and now Gershwin and Dvorak, courtesy of the New York Philharmonic. That's not music known for launching revolutions. But then again, who knows? Kim Jong Il may want to read his Plato, who in the Fourth Book of "The Republic," writes, "For the introduction of a new kind of music must be shunned as imperiling the whole state; since styles of music are never disturbed without affecting the most important political institutions."

Here's hoping.