The rise of the son as "supreme commander" of North Korea's armed forces gives rise to nostalgia. Already the reign of the father is beginning to seem like the good old days.
At least as long as Kim Jong-il was around a certain sense of security prevailed. South Koreans could be sure, despite "incidents", that North Korea was not going to stage more than isolated attacks. And North Koreans could be sure, as long as
they suffered in silent acceptance of their fates, they would not be consigned to the country's vast gulag system or some lesser form of torture and imprisonment.
Now, as Kim Jong-eun begins to throw his considerable weight around, that sense of security is gone. The rules are tightening. Families are subject to execution unto the third generation if one of their members is caught sneaking across the Yalu or Tumen River borders into China. Authorities are cracking down on private markets, the lifelines for millions in the starving countryside.
More than anything else, the specter of purge hangs over the populace. It's begun with confessions and punishment for those who did not mourn convincingly over Kim Jong-il's death; those who missed mass weeping and wailing in cities and towns around the country or who did not seem sufficiently sincere.
