북한을 위하여 기도함

북조선의 발광적인 남조선 비라 살포 협박 이유

북한 공산당이 가장 무서워 하는 일:

자유롭고 풍요한 외부 세계의 실상, 자신들의 인권 말살 노예제와 가난 실상 비교

하나님이여, 북한의 2천만 동포를 무신론 독재 억압 정권에서

신속하게 구원하소서

저들의 눈물을 기억하소서!

저들의 믿음을 지키시고, 포기하지 않도록 붙들어 주옵소서

우리의 이 무능함과 나태함을 용서하옵시고

이 민족을 복음 안에서 하나로 통일시켜 주옵소서

무신론 공산 정권에 철퇴를 가하사

저들로 사신 하나님만이 온 세상의 주이심을 만인이 알게 하옵소서!

우리의 눈물을 보시고 저 황폐한 북한 땅을 돌아보소서!

우리의 죄악을 사하시고 이 민족을 구원하여 주옵소서

저들의 모든 생화학 핵 무기 마사일 탱크 잠수함 대포 -

이 모든 것들이 녹슬고 무용지물 되게 하옵소서

땅굴들이 만 천하에서 발굴되어 드러나게 하옵소서

오, 하나님이 이 민족의 모든 패역함을 용서하여 주옵소서

이 민족 가운데 우상숭배를 뿌리뽑아 주옵소서

미신과 헛된 우상 종교를 제하소서

음행과 거짓을 멸하소서

깨어진 가정들을 회복시켜 주옵시고

죄악에 물든 심령들을 주님의 십자가 희생 제사로 정결케

하여 주옵소서

낙담한 심령에 소망을 주옵시고

공의가 강같이 흐르는 나라가 되게 하옵소서

이 나라의 지도자들이 모두 부활하신 주님을 만나

하늘의 지혜와 능력으로 일하게 하옵소서

영원한 왕이신 예수 그리스도의 이름으로 비나이다

아멘

New York Times 2015년 1월 24일

CHOE SANG-HUN

SEOUL, South Korea —

As a math professor in North Korea, Jang Seyul was among the nation’s relatively privileged classes; he got to sit in special seats in restaurants and on crowded trains, and more important in a country where many go hungry, was given priority for government food rations. Then he risked it all — for a soap opera from South Korea.

북한에서 상대적으로 특권 계층에 속했던 장세열은 북한에서 수학 교수였었다. 식당들이나 붐비는 열차들에서도 특별 좌석에 앉을 수 있었다. 무엇보다 정부의 양곡 배급에서도 우선권을 가질 수 있었다. 그런데 그는 남한의 한 연속극 드라마 하나 때문에 이 모든 것을 포기하고 탈북을 결행하게 되었다.

The temptation in this case was “Scent of a Man,” an 18-episode drama about the forbidden love between an ex-convict and his stepsister. A graduate student had offered him the bundle of banned CDs smuggled into the North and, too curious to resist, Mr. Jang and five other professors huddled in one of their homes binge watching until dawn. 

그를 유혹했던 것은 "남자의 향기"란 18회로 구성된 연속극이었다. 전과자와 그의 이복 누이 간의 금지된 사랑 이야기를 다룬 연속극이었다. 한 졸업반 학생이 그에게 금지된, 북한으로 밀수된 CD 몇 장을 건네 주었는데, 뿌리칠 수 없을 만큼의 호기심을 자극했다. 그래서 장교수와 다른 다섯 교수가 한 집에 보여 새벽까지 열성 시청을 하였다. 
They were careful to pull the curtains to escape the prying eyes of neighbors taught to turn in their fellow citizens for seditious activities. But they were caught anyway and demoted to manual labor at a power plant.

커튼을 치고 세심한 주의를 해서 이웃집 눈을 가리려고 했다. 주민들은 이웃의 이상한 반당 반혁명 활동을 신고하도록 세뇌를 받았기 때문이다. 그런 세심한 주의에도 이 교수들은 발각되어 결국 한 발전소의 막노동 일군으로 강등 되었다.

Mr. Jang said they most likely escaped prison only because they paid bribes, but facing a lifetime of social stigma — and having had a glimpse of the comforts of South Korea in “Scent of a Man” — he decided to defect. He now leads a defectors’ group that sends soap operas and other entertainment to the North to try to empower people to demand an end to authoritarian rule.

이제 장교수는 일단의 탈북자들과 함께 연속극이나 다른 오락물을 북에 밀반입하여 주민들로 하여금 독재체제를 끝장 낼 요구를 할 힘을 키우는 일에 열중하고 있다.
“I am sure these soaps have an impact on North Koreans, and I am the proof,” he said. “In the future, if they spread, they can even help foster anti-government movements. That’s why the North Korean authorities are so desperate to stop them from spreading.”
The decidedly lowbrow dramas — with names like “Bad Housewife” and “Red Bean Bread” — have, in fact, become something of a cultural Jang Se-yul, who defected after viewing such shows, sends DVDs of soap operas back to the North.
Trojan horse, sneaking visions of the bustling South into the tightly controlled, impoverished North alongside the usual sudsy fare of betrayals, bouts of ill-timed amnesia and, at least once, a love affair with an alien.
North Korea’s leader, Kim Jong-un, has issued increasingly pointed warnings to his subjects about the “poisonous elements of capitalism” crossing China’s border with the North, tempting even his Communist elite. Defectors say there has been a severe crackdown on smugglers, and in the fall, South Korean intelligence reported hearing that Mr. Kim was so shaken by the spread of the soaps that he ordered the execution of 10 Workers’ Party officials accused of succumbing to the shows’ allure, according to lawmakers who had been briefed on the matter at a parliamentary hearing.
Few people outside North Korea think the TV adventures of the lustdriven and lovelorn could lead to the overthrow of the Kim family dynasty, which has survived for decades despite international isolation and sanctions. But the infiltration of the dramas into even elite circles, despite the threat of prison or worse, is a potent indication of the challenges Mr. Kim faces in a globalized world. (The swift arrival in the North of at least some bootleg copies of “The Interview,” the comedy that North Korea viewed as an “act of war,” is another.)
Since he came to power in 2011, Mr. Kim has struggled to open the North just enough to keep his top loyalists happy, plying them with imported goods, while maintaining control in a country where government-installed intercoms in every home still blare reminders of required ideological education classes. He allowed an estimated two million people, close to 10 percent of the population, to own cellphones, but ensured they could not call abroad. And, despite a crackdown, the country has seemed unwilling, or unable, to fully dismantle the smuggling networks that bring in not only banned soap operas, movies and K-pop videos, but also much-needed trade.
Defectors say the soaps have had an outsize impact, less for their often outlandish plots than their portrayals of the creature comforts of South Korea — a direct contradiction to decades of indoctrination about the inferiority of the South, and capitalism. It was those portraits of wealth, Jeon Hyo-jin said, that inspired her to make the dangerous decision to flee in 2013 at the age of 18.
“The kitchens with hot and cold tap water, people dating in a cafe, cars clogging streets, women wearing different clothes each day — unlike us who wore the same padded jacket, day in day out,” said Ms. Jeon, who lives in Seoul. “Through the dramas, I learned how strange my own country was, how full of lies.”
North Korea is one of the last frontiers for South Korea’s soap operas, which have found growing audiences worldwide, including in the United States and in such unlikely places as Cuba. The reasons for the widespread appeal are not entirely clear. Some people credit their emotionally charged plots; others the enviable fashions that are part of the “Korean Wave.”
But in North Korea, defectors say, the reasons are obvious. The two Koreas share an ancient culture and language. And what counts as entertainment north of the border is severely limited, especially since all TVs and radios are preset to receive only state broadcasts. “In North Korean movies,” said Ms. Jeon, “it’s all about loyalty to the leader and the party; the state before love. You should be ready to die for the leader, blah blah. In South Korean dramas, it was different. I found a whole new world there.” Most of the border trade is driven by money, defectors said, not ideology, but some defectors and pro-democracy groups also help arrange for the contraband material to be smuggled into the North. The flow of entertainment began in the 1990s with the first real fissures in the North’s almost impregnable information blockade. In the face of a devastating famine, desperate North Korean authorities began turning a blind eye to people crossing into China to seek food and other goods to sell at home.
Foreign video tapes, CDs and DVDs, as well as cheap Chinese devices to play them, quickly became black market best-sellers. Recognizing the danger, Mr. Kim’s father, Kim Jong-il, who died in 2011, set up swat teams that barged into homes, cutting off the electricity before entering to prevent viewers from removing discs from their DVD players. But defectors say the suppliers have worked hard to foil inspectors, importing battery powered DVD players as well as more easily hidden flash drives.
“It’s a cat-and-mouse game,” said Chung Kwang-il, another defector, who runs a smuggling operation. “These days, they call me to ask for specific soaps and K-pop music videos so they can beat competition in the markets. It’s not a one-way flow anymore.”
Analysts and defectors alike say there are limits to how much outside entertainment can accomplish. A recent study by Seoul National University’s Institute for Peace and Unification of 149 recent defectors showed that more than eight in 10 had been exposed to South Korean movies or songs before fleeing the North. But most of them lived in areas close to China, where it is easier for smugglers to maneuver, and it is unclear how widely such entertainment has spread.
Still, the defectors say that the soaps are a potent tool for exposing North Koreans to the outside world after years of mixed results from official psychological warfare that included shortwave radio broadcasts and propaganda messages blared over the border from loudspeakers in the South.
For some North Koreans, the emotional tug of the soaps was powerful enough to change their lives, forever.
Kim Seung-hee, 24, is one. She watched her first drama, “Stairway to Heaven,” courtesy of soldiers who asked to use her home for safe watching, and was hooked immediately, drawn not only to South Korea’s freedoms, but also to the promise of love in a more open society.
“South Korean men in the films had such good manners toward women, unlike North Korean men who like to order us around,” she said. “It made me yearn for South Korea, dreaming of meeting such a man.”