North Korea is lonelier than ever

IT WAS SATURDAY morning on the Korean peninsula and Friday evening in America when pundits and policymakers around the world tuned into North Korean state television. They had hoped to watch a military parade in Pyongyang, the capital, to mark the 75th anniversary of the ruling party’s creation on October 10th. But instead of the expected display of military hardware, they were treated to patriotic soap operas and a programme on how to care for ornamental fish. It was only at 7pm in Seoul, South Korea’s capital, that a special broadcast confirmed earlier rumours. The parade had already happened—in the middle of the previous night.

The nocturnal parading shows just how much more isolated the secretive dictatorship has become since covid-19 erupted. North Korea’s borders, hardly bustling to start with, have been shut since the end of January. Official trade with the outside world, already sharply curtailed by UN sanctions, has all but ceased. Diplomacy with South Korea and America has been moribund since last year’s failed summit in Vietnam. With most foreign diplomats and NGO people expelled from Pyongyang and the remaining few largely confined to their houses, it is harder than ever for outsiders to pierce the autocratic fog.