The Kim regime has mastered the art of insulting, but what do those insults reveal? Is it true that "none profess their innocence as loudly as the guilty?" Yonhap

By Amanda Price

The North Korean regime has led the modern world in brazen behavior. One of its prize-winning talents is its ability to use language that would shame the devil.

Despite this, Kim Jong-un is perhaps the only leader in the modern world who can refer to fellow leaders as "human filth," "barking dogs" or "witless puppets" and still be invited to tea.

Like a spouse living with an abusive partner, it seems we have become so accustomed to Kim's unbridled verbal attacks that they almost seem part of the accepted relationship.

Many of us have simply stopped listening, and even caring. Kim's long-winded accusations and attacks have become meaningless rhetoric, or the huffing and puffing of a dictator trying to inflate his own image.

We also have the great advantage of being able to switch Kim off. We can decide not to listen to his diatribes, nor read his denunciations. We can ignore Kim without the slightest fear of retribution.

North Koreans do not have anything like that luxury.

By contrast, North Koreans are force-fed Kim's venomous speeches through the state-controlled media on a 24-hour, seven-day-a-week loop.

For those who cannot afford a radio or TV, Kim's condemnations are broadcast through public speakers into town squares, factories, schools, shopping centers and even fields. Giant public television screens now broadcast Kim's vitriol in high definition.

For North Koreans, Kim's insults are anything but meaningless. They are purposed to infiltrate people's minds like expanding wet concrete, leaving no room for opinion.

To those still under the spell that Kim is their savior, and the personification of virtue, these insults are imbedded into their psyche as a form of mind control.

But to the increasing number who silently know that Kim's purposes are anything but good, these insults are reminders of the brutal consequences that will befall them should they voice their doubts.

Looking deeper into this regulated flow of propaganda and vilification of the outside world, we hear Kim's real message to North Koreans. Quite simply, "Love me, hate the imperialists … or else".

In 2017, a team of documentarians from Russia Today (RT) were given permission to interview Pyongyang citizens during preparation for "The Day of the Sun," the celebration of Kim Il-sung's birthday.

Their watchers assumed that, as the team was largely Russian, the documentary they were filming would be one that promoted the regime.

They were wrong.

No leader in modern history has used propaganda as prolifically as Kim Jong-un, which is a significant claim. A senior-level defector explained that Kim's condemnation of world leaders stemmed from his awareness that he is not a legitimate leader, either by world or North Korean standards. Yonhap

One of their first interviews was with a mill manager, a woman at least twice Kim's age. "The commander loves us like a father," she recited. "When he entered our factory, we beheld his lustrous image. It was like a daydream. The entire factory was filled with his light."

A teenage student told an interviewer that the "Great Leader is inseparable from us. He does everything in his power to make us the happiest people on earth … People in this country are envied all around the world and we are proud of it."

In the documentary, Kim paid a surprise, yet highly publicized visit to a factory where an employee had lost both parents. Kim singled her out because, according the DPRK media, "he sensed her fidelity." She was given an apartment in Pyongyang free of charge, was featured in the national news, and even won a husband in the process. "The Dear Leader replaced all the love that I lost from my parents … and more," she said between tears, which were meant to look like joy.

An orphaned boy, 10, in a meticulously rehearsed speech, responded to a simple question, "we orphans have the loving attention of our beloved and respected leader making us happier than children with parents, we have everything" … inhale and glance sideways … "and want for nothing so there is no one we could possibly envy."

Though these were more privileged citizens of Pyongyang, the masquerade of emotions was like watching a bizarre ballet. Everyone knew they were being watched, everyone knew their role, and everyone knew the consequences of under-performing.

It was as if Kim's reign of terror had been wrapped in pink cellophane and tied with a ribbon.

And in the background, while flowers were etched into freezing black ice, the crackling sound of yet another message sent from the Dear Leader could be heard.