Introduction
Summary of the book Nothing to Envy by Barbara Demick. Before we start, let’s delve into a short overview of the book. Imagine waking up every day feeling unsure if there will be any food to eat or if your neighbors might secretly report you to the authorities for a careless whisper. Picture living in a place where electric lights rarely glow at night and where people must survive on wild grasses, tree bark, and tiny scraps of grain. This is not some far-off fantasy world; this is the reality faced by countless ordinary people in North Korea. Over the decades, this nation has been ruled by a series of dictators who demanded absolute loyalty, cut their people off from the world, and created a strict system that favored some and crushed others. But in these darkest corners, there are also stories of individuals who dared to dream of freedom. By exploring how this nation came to be divided and how its people struggle every day, we can understand why North Korea’s story is nothing to envy.
Chapter 1: How the Post-War Chessboard of Superpowers Tore Korea Apart, Shaping an Uncertain Future.
In the late 1940s, Korea was like a small boat caught between two giant waves—on one side stood the United States, and on the other, the Soviet Union. At the end of World War II, the once-unified Korean Peninsula had fallen under Japanese rule for decades. When Japan finally lost the war, Korea’s fate became a bargaining chip in a global contest for power. The Americans and the Soviets, each wanting to safeguard their own interests, agreed to split Korea roughly in half, using the 38th parallel as an easy dividing line. To them, it was just a line on a map, but to Koreans, it was a blade cutting through their homeland. People who had seen themselves as one nation were suddenly living under two very different governments, sparking confusion, sadness, and anger.
At first, many Koreans believed the division would be temporary, something that would soon be corrected. They hoped that once the dust settled and world powers agreed on a plan, the country would be reunited and move forward as a strong, independent nation. But as time passed, trust between the United States and the Soviet Union faded like old paint on a wall. Instead of bridging differences, both sides dug in deeper. By 1948, two separate states emerged: in the south, the Republic of Korea, led by Syngman Rhee, and in the north, the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, led by Kim Il-sung. These two new states both claimed to be the true voice of the Korean people, which pushed them closer and closer to a devastating conflict.
In 1950, all these simmering tensions finally erupted into the Korean War when North Korean forces, supported by Soviet weapons, poured across the border and attacked the South. Caught by surprise, Seoul, the southern capital, quickly fell. The United States and other nations under the United Nations banner jumped in on the South’s side, while China came to help the North. The fighting was fierce and brutal, destroying cities, families, and countless lives. For three long years, battle lines shifted like sand in the wind, but when the guns finally fell silent, almost nothing had changed. The border barely budged from where it started.
This costly war left millions dead and turned the Korean Peninsula into a land of deep scars—physical and emotional. The wounds ran so deep that families ended up on opposite sides, never knowing if they would ever see each other again. And the aftershocks went far beyond the battlefield. Even with an uneasy armistice in place, both North and South remained on guard, suspicious of each other’s every move. Over time, the differences in their governments, economies, and daily lives became even sharper. The roots of North Korea’s totalitarian grip and South Korea’s later prosperity can be traced back to this forced division. This first step in North Korea’s story sets the stage for the many hardships, challenges, and changes that its people would endure in the years to come.
Chapter 2: Within High Walls: How North Korea’s Strict Social Ranking Chained People’s Hopes.
After the dust of the Korean War settled, Kim Il-sung, the leader of North Korea, set out to shape the nation exactly as he wished. He claimed the country would be a communist paradise where everyone would be equal. But beneath the surface, he built a hidden ladder of social classes that determined who had the best food, housing, and opportunities. Called songbun, this classification was not officially announced, yet everyone knew it existed. Your family’s background—whether your grandfather once fought against Japan or was accused of favoring the South—could forever decide if your life would be easy or hard. In a place where official propaganda shouted that everyone stood shoulder-to-shoulder, the truth was that some stood on the shoulders of others.
Society became divided into three broad groups: the loyal core who were closest to the ruling family’s ideals, the wavering classes in the middle who struggled to maintain favor, and at the very bottom, the hostile classes. If you belonged to the core, you might land a spot in a good school, secure a decent job, and enjoy a more comfortable home. But if your grandparents once spoke kindly of the Americans or your father fought for the South during the war, you and all your descendants might be trapped at the bottom forever. Trying to improve your status was almost impossible. A single wrong word or a suspicious friend could push your family further down the ranks.
Food was given out by the state according to this system. If you were more trusted, you got better-quality rice and maybe a bit of meat. If not, you were left with thin, watery porridge or low-grade cornmeal. Housing, too, depended on songbun. People with excellent backgrounds lived in nicer apartments in Pyongyang, the capital, while others were forced into poorer areas. Everyone’s life was traced and tracked, and people learned to be extremely careful about what they said, even to their own family members. In this way, Kim Il-sung kept people focused on surviving within the system instead of thinking about rising against it.
Such rigid divisions did more than just control resources—they crushed dreams. Imagine a young person with bright ideas and a strong desire to learn, yet they are told they can never attend a top university or land a good job because of a great-uncle’s old mistake. Over time, hope shrinks. People learn to follow rules, keep their heads down, and never question the system. This class structure made sure that everyone understood who was in charge and who could be trusted. In the eyes of the regime, limiting people’s futures was not a side effect; it was a tool to ensure absolute obedience. With society divided and everyone judging everyone else’s loyalty, North Korea’s leaders set the stage for even more intense forms of control.
Chapter 3: No Room for Doubt: How Ideas, Fear, and Neighborly Spies Kept Control in Check.
To maintain strict order, Kim Il-sung didn’t rely on military force alone. He planted his beliefs—called Juche, or self-reliance—deep in people’s minds. The goal was to make North Koreans think they needed nothing from the outside world. Every day, workers attended lectures praising the wisdom of the leadership. They wrote essays showing their dedication and memorized slogans that insisted their nation was strong, pure, and superior. By shaping how people thought and felt, Kim Il-sung built a mental wall around his citizens. He made them believe that anything beyond their borders was dangerous or worthless. Through tightly controlled newspapers, radio, and TV broadcasts, North Koreans learned that other countries were inferior or evil. They were told that South Koreans suffered under cruel leaders, while North Koreans lived in a perfect society.
But words alone did not secure obedience. The regime also depended on a widespread system of surveillance that turned neighbors, friends, and even family members into watchful eyes. Local groups, called Inminban, kept track of who visited whom, who whispered what, and who acted strangely. Anyone spotted questioning the state, grumbling about food shortages, or admiring foreign lifestyles could be reported. The government encouraged such reporting by praising informers as loyal citizens who protected their homeland. As a result, trust between people vanished. Who could you share your honest feelings with if everyone might be listening?
Meanwhile, traveling without permission was difficult, and strangers were viewed with suspicion. Surprise visits by the Kyuch Alde teams meant inspectors could knock on your door at any time. They checked for illegal guests, forbidden items, or any sign that you might think differently from the official line. Fear seeped into everyday life like a slow poison. It forced people to remain silent, to never challenge what they were told, and to accept their fate no matter how harsh it became. This constant pressure ensured that most North Koreans never got the chance to see the outside world’s achievements or question their own suffering.
By mixing strict ideology with relentless spying, Kim Il-sung created a society where obedience was the norm. Instead of armies on every street corner, the regime found a cheaper, quieter way to stay in power—making people doubt each other and themselves. This was more than just a political trick; it was a way to mold an entire population’s thinking. In such an environment, few dared to dream of rebellion. They were too busy trying to avoid trouble or find a decent meal. This shaped North Korea’s future path, as the people were locked in a mental cage reinforced by fear, suspicion, and the belief that the outside world had nothing better to offer.
Chapter 4: Beyond a Leader: How Kim Il-sung Became a God-like Figure in Every Mind.
To strengthen his grip, Kim Il-sung lifted himself and his family high above the population, not just as leaders but as beings almost worshipped like gods. While communist ideology rejected religion, the regime borrowed religious elements to shape the image of Kim Il-sung as a fatherly savior and Kim Jong-il, his son, as a kind of mystical prince. Stories spread that nature itself bowed to them—storms quieted if sailors sang their praises, and magical signs appeared at their births. Newspapers, murals, and sculptures celebrated their greatness. Every home was required to hang their portraits, kept spotless and safe as if they were holy relics. Citizens heard tales of brave souls risking their lives to save these portraits from floods or fires, proving that nothing mattered more than honoring the leaders.
These images appeared everywhere, from massive statues in public squares to mosaics glowing inside subway stations. Weddings sometimes took place before their statues, turning a family event into a moment of political reverence. It was as if the rulers were always watching, guiding, and protecting their people. The regime also suggested that Kim Il-sung was an expert in every field. If a factory had a problem, the Great Leader had a magical solution. If a crop failed, his wise words would fix it. This illusion of perfect wisdom kept people reliant on their rulers, never daring to question their abilities.
When Kim Il-sung died in 1994, it was as if a divine being had left the earth. North Koreans, taught since birth that he was their savior, mourned with dramatic tears and wails. Life paused for ten days as music and celebration were banned. Later, when Kim Jong-il died in 2011, the same outpouring of grief followed. These events were not just funerals; they were national rituals showing that the leaders were not just politicians but central pillars of people’s lives. The country paused to cry as if they had lost a beloved ancestor who had guided them for ages.
By turning the leadership into near-divine figures, the regime ensured that people felt an unbreakable loyalty. Even as hardships mounted and conditions worsened, many found it difficult to blame the leaders for their problems because they were taught to see them as flawless protectors. This god-like aura also distracted citizens from noticing the regime’s failures and cruelty. It is much harder to question a leader if you believe he is a gift from heaven. This kind of intense personality cult would later help the leadership hold power even when the economy collapsed, famine spread, and darkness literally fell over the land. The cult of the leaders was a key piece of the machinery that kept North Koreans obedient and silent.
Chapter 5: When the World Shook: The Collapse of the USSR and North Korea’s Falling Dominoes.
For decades, North Korea’s claim of self-reliance was only partly true. Hidden from the public was how much they depended on allies like the Soviet Union (USSR) and China for machinery, oil, and raw materials. When the USSR collapsed in the early 1990s, this crucial support vanished almost overnight. Without the steady flow of supplies, factories halted, and electricity grids sputtered. What good was a well-organized society if the lights went out and machines stopped humming?
As the economy unraveled, the North Korean government faced pressure it had never experienced. With no spare parts or fuel, power plants failed, and water pumps stopped working. Buildings went dark, and homes fell silent. Winter turned deadly as people froze without heating. China and Russia, facing their own troubles, demanded repayment of debts that North Korea could not afford. Without access to foreign loans, the country sank deeper into crisis. The stage was set for an enormous tragedy that would soon unfold—famine.
In this time of unraveling, work assignments became meaningless. With no materials, factories ordered workers to scavenge for whatever they could find. Some people collected scrap metal or animal waste to make fertilizer. Others simply stopped showing up, choosing instead to hunt for food. The once-tidy system of rationing began to fall apart. People arrived at distribution centers only to find them empty, the promise of guaranteed food now a broken dream. Still, the regime tried to project strength, focusing on building a nuclear program. This move only worsened relations with countries who might have helped. International donors, concerned about nuclear weapons, hesitated to send aid.
Slowly, the nights in North Korea grew longer and darker. By the late 1990s, darkness became normal. In Pyongyang, a city once considered the pride of the nation, buildings on main streets often vanished into shadows after sundown. Imagine walking through streets lit only by the moon, and seeing hungry faces everywhere. The glorious self-reliance promised by the leaders seemed like a cruel joke. Now, people worried not about ideology or loyalty points, but about how to fill their stomachs. The collapse of the USSR slammed shut the doors of hope that North Korea’s planned economy once offered. This was only the beginning of a desperate struggle to survive.
Chapter 6: Shadows of Hunger: How Empty Markets and Missing Meals Sparked a Secret Trade.
As official distribution centers dried up, people had to adapt. With the government failing to provide even the basics of life, a quiet but desperate wave of illegal trade began. North Korea’s system claimed that private commerce went against communist principles, yet survival demanded new rules. Gardens popped up behind homes, and families grew whatever they could—potatoes, corn, or beans. At first, selling these was discouraged, but soon small black markets spread. You could buy a handful of seeds, a cup of grain, or a homemade snack if you had something to trade.
These secret markets soon became lifelines. Farmers hid portions of their harvests from the state, smuggling crops onto the black market to earn what they needed to feed their own families. People learned to barter, swap, and negotiate. Without official approval, everyone became a small-time trader. But the regime fought back. Selling grain openly could lead to severe punishment, even public executions. Prices soared as supplies dwindled. Rice, once ordinary, turned into a luxury that few could afford. Corn, cheap and filling, became the primary meal for many. As hunger spread, even that grew too costly.
As famine tightened its grip, people did what they had to do. Some sold their homes or bribed officials just to get by. Others became homeless, drifting to train stations where they begged, scavenged, or stole. Every day, people discovered lifeless bodies of those who had starved. The government’s voice insisted that things would improve, that the sacrifices were needed for a greater purpose, but few believed these words anymore. Survival, not ideology, guided their actions.
This new shadow economy changed North Korea in unexpected ways. People traveled illegally from town to town, searching for markets with slightly better prices. They took risks, met strangers, and learned about life beyond their neighborhoods. Though still controlled and limited, these interactions cracked open tiny windows of knowledge. People whispered about how things were different elsewhere. This quiet change prepared some North Koreans to later consider escaping, because once you have tasted even a small kind of freedom—like buying and selling goods—you begin to wonder what else the world might have to offer. The famine forced them to break rules, and in doing so, it unintentionally showed them that maybe not all rules deserved to be followed.
Chapter 7: From Silent Starvation to Shaky Deals: Foreign Aid, Black Markets, and the Struggle to Survive.
As millions suffered, Kim Jong-il, who had taken over after Kim Il-sung’s death, finally admitted that the nation faced a severe food crisis. When the UN relief teams arrived in 1995, outsiders got their first real glimpse of the disaster unfolding inside North Korea. Aid began to trickle in—grain, powdered milk, and other staples meant to ease hunger. But with the government still controlling information and movement, much of this aid ended up in the hands of the military or sold on the black market at shocking prices. Corruption deepened suffering, making true relief hard to find.
By the late 1990s, everyday life had lost all sense of normalcy. Schools emptied as children left classrooms to search for food in fields or along rail tracks. Hospitals, once safe havens, had no medicine, electricity, or even running water. Medical staff struggled with homemade remedies and donated their own skin to treat burns. Trees were stripped bare as people ate leaves or bark to survive. Forests and fields once rich with wildlife became silent as every animal was hunted to extinction. The country seemed to be collapsing from the inside out.
Under this crushing weight, Kim Jong-il tried to manage the chaos. He legalized some forms of trading, allowing people to pay for a stall in a sanctioned market. For a brief moment, it seemed that these reforms might bring some relief. Yet the leader also feared that too much freedom would weaken his power. He tried to pull back on the markets, banning certain goods or suddenly declaring new currency rules. Each unpredictable shift rattled the people, leaving them even more uncertain.
This back-and-forth strategy—sometimes allowing trade, sometimes cracking down—only increased the population’s desperation. People learned to adapt, shifting to whatever scheme offered a chance at survival. The experience taught them resilience and creativity. They became experts at hiding small caches of food, at forging documents, and at slipping past inspectors. While North Korea remained dark and hungry, these struggles forged stronger survival instincts. The more control the regime tried to reclaim, the more people quietly pushed back, testing boundaries and dreaming of a place where they could live without fear or starvation. This environment would eventually encourage some to take the ultimate risk: escaping the country altogether.
Chapter 8: Crossing Rivers of Fear: The Secret Paths from North Korea to Freedom.
As famine and uncertainty gnawed away at hope, a growing number of North Koreans dared to consider escape. The coastlines were heavily guarded, making a boat trip to Japan too dangerous. Instead, they looked north, toward China. There, across rivers and forests, lay the first step to a better life. Crossing the border illegally was terrifying. Armed guards, harsh punishments, and the possibility of being caught loomed large. But the hunger and despair at home pushed many to risk everything.
Some escapees saved money to pay brokers who knew safe routes. These brokers arranged bribes for border guards, provided shelter in China, and even offered fake passports. With the right disguise, a desperate North Korean could board a plane in China and land in South Korea, where they would ask for asylum. But this luxury was expensive and out of reach for most. Others tried crossing on their own, sneaking through riverbeds at night, clinging to makeshift rafts, and hoping no one would spot them.
The journey was dangerous, especially for women. Many were sold to Chinese men looking for wives, treated almost like property. Others joined smuggling rings, bringing back cheap Chinese electronics or DVDs to sell at a profit inside North Korea. These small glimpses of Chinese life changed people’s minds. They saw that not everyone lived in darkness and hunger. Some dared to go further, making their way through China to Mongolia, where they would surrender to the police and eventually be deported—but deported to South Korea, where they would finally be free.
For each person who attempted escape, there was the constant threat of punishment if caught. Labor camps awaited many who returned empty-handed. Still, the trickle of defectors grew into a steady stream. As word spread of life beyond North Korea’s borders, more and more people realized they had a choice. Escape was not easy or guaranteed, but it offered a glimmer of hope. For the first time, thousands of North Koreans saw a path out of the darkness and into a future where they could speak, learn, and grow without a heavy hand pushing them down.
Chapter 9: First Steps into a New World: How Defectors to South Korea Learn to Live Again.
For those who made it to South Korea, the journey did not end at the airport gate. The South Korean government welcomed them as citizens, but adjusting to a free, modern society was like stepping onto another planet. Many defectors were questioned by South Korea’s intelligence services to confirm their stories. They had to prove who they were and that they were not spies sent by the North. This process, though stressful, aimed to protect both the newcomers and their new home.
After passing these checks, defectors were sent to special learning centers where they discovered how to handle everyday life—something they had never known. They learned to pay bills, operate household appliances, and navigate busy city streets without fear. They studied subjects never taught in the North: human rights, democracy, and the basics of global history. This education was eye-opening. Suddenly, they had choices—where to live, what to eat, what to study. Many found these choices overwhelming. Having grown up in a system that told them exactly what to do, the freedom to choose felt confusing, even scary.
They also received settlement money to help start their new lives. In a country where modern supermarkets, malls, and endless TV channels existed, former North Koreans often struggled to make sense of it all. Some stuck to familiar foods, ordering the simplest meals because so many things were new. Others struggled with guilt at having left behind family members who still suffered back home. Some faced prejudice or found it hard to blend in, feeling like outsiders in a place that was supposed to be their homeland.
Yet, with time, many adapted. They learned to appreciate the freedom to wear different clothes, to learn new skills, and to speak their thoughts without fear of punishment. They built new friendships, found jobs, and discovered that life, while challenging, could also be full of possibility. For them, South Korea represented a second chance—a blank slate to draw their own future. Though they carried painful memories, these defectors proved that human resilience could overcome even the toughest barriers. Their journeys remind us that leaving a world of darkness and control behind is the first step toward building a brighter, freer tomorrow.
Chapter 10: A New Face, the Same Pain: Kim Jong-un’s Rule and Unrealized Hopes.
In 2012, a fresh-faced Kim Jong-un stepped into power. At first glance, he seemed different—young, energetic, and maybe more willing to make changes that would help ordinary people. Some early projects, like building new roads or fancy entertainment spots, suggested he wanted North Korea to shine a bit brighter. Yet beneath the glossy surface, the same old problems remained. North Korea was still closed off and poor, its people still cut off from the outside world. The darkness that had settled over the nation during his father’s and grandfather’s time lingered.
Hopes that Kim Jong-un might loosen control or focus on feeding his people slowly faded. Yes, the black markets continued and sometimes even grew. People gained tiny freedoms like using mobile phones—but these could not connect to the global internet. Calls outside the country remained impossible. The regime’s propaganda machine still showed visiting foreign journalists a make-believe world of smiling faces and lit-up buildings. In reality, once those journalists left, the lights went out again.
Kim Jong-un invested heavily in the military, testing nuclear weapons and launching satellites. These flashy projects impressed no one but his own inner circle. Meanwhile, the threat of renewed conflict loomed as North Korea tore up the old armistice agreement. Instead of moving closer to peace, Kim Jong-un pushed forward with dangerous military ambitions. Ordinary people remained trapped in uncertainty. No matter how many grand monuments he built, these projects did little to put more food on the table or more hope in their hearts.
Today, North Koreans still live under a regime that demands loyalty, that feeds them stories of greatness while ignoring their daily struggles. They remain isolated from the world, with limited electricity, restricted speech, and no real escape from the watchful eye of the government. While some have managed to flee and start new lives abroad, millions remain in the shadows. Kim Jong-un’s rise did not bring the golden era that some had dared to imagine. Instead, it showed that no matter who sits on the throne, the system itself—built on fear, control, and isolation—remains unchanged. The story of North Korea continues, a cautionary tale of what happens when power goes unchecked and everyday people are left to fend for themselves in the dark.
All about the Book
Experience the harrowing life in North Korea through the eyes of its citizens. Barbara Demick reveals their struggles and resilience, offering a profound understanding of totalitarianism, survival, and the yearning for freedom in this gripping narrative.
Barbara Demick, a renowned journalist, brings to life the harsh realities of North Korea through compelling storytelling. Her insightful reporting is celebrated for its depth and humanity, earning her accolades in the field of journalism.
Journalists, Political Scientists, Historians, Human Rights Activists, Sociologists
Reading Non-Fiction, Traveling, Researching Political Systems, Understanding History, Engaging in International Relations
Totalitarianism, Human Rights Violations, Survival under Oppression, Personal Freedom and Autonomy
Hope is a fragile thing, yet it is what keeps us alive amidst despair.
Ban Ki-moon, Margaret Atwood, Timothy Snyder
National Book Award Finalist, James Madison Award, American Society of Newspaper Editors Award
1. What do everyday lives in North Korea look like? #2. How do citizens manage food shortages daily? #3. What survival tactics do North Koreans use? #4. How does propaganda shape North Korean beliefs? #5. What challenges do defectors face when escaping? #6. How do families cope with strict government control? #7. What are the hidden stories of North Korean citizens? #8. How does the healthcare system function under isolation? #9. What is the impact of isolation on personal relationships? #10. How do children perceive their own restricted world? #11. How are dissenters and critics treated by authorities? #12. What role does loyalty play in North Korean society? #13. How does the government maintain a culture of fear? #14. What insights do defectors share about their homeland? #15. How do communism and deprivation affect daily routines? #16. How do North Koreans find moments of joy? #17. What is it like to live without freedom of expression? #18. How do individuals adapt to an oppressive regime? #19. What are the hopes and dreams of North Korean youth? #20. How does daily life contrast with government portrayals?
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https://www.amazon.com/Nothing-Envy-Ordinary-People-North/dp/0812971990
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