The Great Vituperator

By TOBY LICHTIG

Yesterday, on the BBC's
Andrew Marr Show, William Hague warned of the dangers of
"miscalculation" by the North Korean regime, "which has worked
itself up into [a] frenetic state of rhetoric". The concern, said the
Foreign Secretary, was that Pyongyang would start to believe its "own
paranoid rhetoric".

The
North Korean government is, of course, notorious for its bellicosity; but it has in
recent weeks taken the idiom of diplomatic insult to new heights. These threats
and affronts are frequently quoted in the media, but for those interested in
exploring at closer quarters the lexicon of aggression and oppression embraced
by this most Orwellian of states, it is worth paying a visit to the website of the
Korean Central News Agency (available in English- and Spanish-language
translation), which collates announcements from The Party, official statements from North
Korea's political leaders, and editorials and reports from outlets such as the state newspaper, Rodong Sinmun.

Known
to some journalists as "The Great Vituperator" (see Barbara Demnick's excellent book about the country, Nothing To Envy, 2010), the KCNA is a
treasure trove of linguistic abuse, throbbing with language of such eccentric crudeness
and outlandish bombast that it would be entertaining were it not so disturbing.

In recent days, the "US
imperialists" and their South Korean "puppet traitors" have been habitually derided as "mentally deranged", "impudent" and
"harassers of peace". They are accused of "sophism",
"heinous criminality" and 
"letting loose a spate of balderdash". The enemies of
Pyongyang are "war maniacs" and "mad about nuclear war". The
authorities in Seoul are "a group of murderers who cannot live under the
same sky [as North Korea]", while the "imperialist rabid dog" in
Washington is "kicking up [a] frantic nuclear war racket".

Sometimes
there can be a quaintness to the English – abetted by the apparently dodgy
translation – such as in that use of "racket", or in the description
of America's "nuclear war manoeuvres" as "madcap".

At
other times, the tone is almost lyrical: South Korea is "a tundra of human
rights", its leaders "bent on a wild dream", its military
masterminds "working with bloodshot eyes" to "inflict heinous
war". These "lackeys" and "stooges" are
"cancer-like entities", "poisonous herbs" that "should
be mercilessly rooted out by arms so that they may not sprout again". The
Blue House in Seoul is "the cesspool of all evils". American military
support is "a foolish act reminding one of a drowning man catching at a
straw". 

Particularly
inventive use is made of reported speech. South Korean leaders rarely "speak",
according to the KCNA: rather, they "trumpet" (propaganda; hatred;
insults; lies) or "fabricate" or "bluster".

The
KCNA is vivid in its suggestions about what to do with these "traitors".
The citizens of North Korea must "put the warmongers into the red hot
iron-pot of Hell". The United States, we are told, "will perish in
the flame kindled by it and kneel down before the army and people".
Washington will become a "sea of fire" and the enemies of Kim Jong-un
will be sent "to the bottom of the sea as they run wild like wolves
threatened with fire".

This
rhetoric is undoubtedly colourful. To what extent is it dangerous? I'll let the qualified North Korea analysts answer that one, but it may be worth
noting a recent story about a former North Korean army officer who fell foul of
Kim Jong-un. According to reports, the unfortunate individual, Kim Chol, was
sentenced to death and promptly executed not by a three-man firing squad, as is
traditional in the country, but by a mortar
round. This is to say, he was placed in a spot in a field and then bombed.
The apparent reason for this imaginative piece of brutality is that the Supreme Leader is alleged to have desired
that "no trace" of the man be left behind, "down to his
hair".

Whether
or not this story is true – and given the historic excesses of the regime, it may be plausible – it's a salient reminder of the powerful effect that
words can have, particularly when uttered from on high. Remember that legend
about Henry II and Thomas à Becket? Much has been said in thoughtful commentaries
not of Kim Jong-un's actual desire for a doubtless suicidal conflict, but of someone
making a "mistake" amid the sabre rattling, pushing an ill-chosen
word into a hostile deed, and setting in motion a disastrous chain of
escalation. We can only hope that even members of Kim Jong-un's inner circle
take the rhetoric of "The Great Vituperator" with a hefty dose of salt.