A River in Darkness: One Man's Escape from North Korea

Masaji’s experience in North Korea exposes the insidious nature of indoctrination and the extent of its impact, highlighting The Cost of Totalitarianism. Upon arrival in North Korea, Miyoko retaining her Japanese passport despite pressure to relinquish it highlights a prescient sense of danger, suggesting a deep-seated fear that the family might need a way out. This symbol of Japan also foreshadows the incessant struggles they face while in North Korea and the pain of Belonging in a Divided World as a mixed family. As the family settles, they quickly learn of the state’s reach and control. By exploiting the vulnerability of children and the conformity of workers, the regime imbues its citizens with state ideology through mandatory lessons for students and professionals. Masaji suggests a lack of exposure to democratic systems may have aided the rise of authoritarianism, effectively barring opposition to foster: “I can never forgive Kim Il-sung for taking away our right to think” (55). However, control extends far beyond thought, and North Koreans are subject to harsh restrictions that limit even basic personal liberties. State ideology enforces rigid conformity, where every aspect of daily life is meticulously monitored, creating an environment where even the slightest misstep can have serious consequences. Arbitrary policies on hygiene—where both those who bathe frequently and those deemed unclean are reprimanded—highlight a pervasive system of control. Thus, The Cost of Totalitarianism lies in its dual control of both mind and body, as constant surveillance and dominance over the populace work in tandem with ideological indoctrination to ensure complete control over every facet of a citizen’s life. This all-controlling system presents even greater challenges for Masaji and his family, as they are viewed as outsiders who cannot ever truly conform.

Additionally, the personality cult of North Korea’s leader, Kim Il-sung, breeds an environment inherently susceptible to corruption and division. Citizens are encouraged to prioritize loyalty to the party over personal relationships, often betraying each other in order to advance within the rigid hierarchy. A life of scarcity and unmet basic needs further intensifies competition over cooperation, which is depicted in the villagers’ lack of sympathy as Masaji’s family home burns down. Ultimately, within the all-encompassing control of the totalitarian state, loyalty is often performative, and social bonds are tenuous, leaving individuals to fend for themselves through any means necessary.

Language appears as a key motif, both working to manipulate meaning in the regime’s favor and to amplify social stratification. Military terminology elevates ordinary activities to heroic duties and proof of one’s loyalty to the state: “Everything was a ‘battle’ or a ‘march’ or a ‘war’” (37). Mundane tasks are reframed to instill a sense of collective struggle and sacrifice for the greater good. Meanwhile, oppressive policies are obscured through euphemisms: “Serfdom is freedom. Repression is liberation” (55). Such linguistic choices distort truth to foster acceptance of the regime’s values. Beyond terminology, language is also wielded to silence returnees, who struggle with Belonging in a Divided World, routinely reminded of their outsider status. Assigned to the lowest social caster, returnees are denied any opportunity for social mobility, effectively never fully integrating into North Korean society. The state enforces Korean language proficiency on returnees like Miyoko and Masaji, while simultaneously stripping them of their Japanese names in a deliberate attempt to erase their heritage. Even Do Sam-dal’s initial comfort upon speaking Korean is fleeting—his Korean background offers no shield against widespread prejudice toward returnees. The villagers’ envy of Masaji’s family’s meager possessions upon arrival and their perverse sense of satisfaction when their house burns down highlight the “us versus them” mentality. In turn, returnees themselves absorb this deep-seated animosity, with Masaji admitting to referring to North Koreans as “natives” in an attempt to distance himself from locals. This act also makes him complicit in perpetuating the division that isolates him, highlighting the insidious and self-perpetuating nature of totalitarianism.