A City Built for Appearances
Pyongyang is not representative of the country as a whole. Only the most loyal and elite citizens are permitted to live here. The streets are wide and clean, the buildings brightly painted, and patriotic music flows constantly from loudspeakers on nearly every corner. Statues of Kim Il-sung and Kim Jong-il tower above central plazas, meticulously maintained by citizens who must bow in ritual reverence.
“Pyongyang exists to display the perfection of the regime,” says Park Hyun-soo, a former resident who defected in 2017. “But it’s all performance. Everyone knows they’re being watched.”
Surveillance Behind the Stillness
Despite the appearance of calm, the city is under constant surveillance. Every apartment block has government informants. Conversations are carefully guarded, even among family members. Foreign visitors are closely monitored, accompanied at all times by official minders who control what can be seen or photographed.
“There are no casual interactions,” says a European diplomat who recently visited Pyongyang on a restricted trip. “You sense that even laughter is rehearsed.”
Public Life: Quiet and Regimented
Daily life in Pyongyang follows a strict rhythm. Citizens line up at bus stops in silence. Most wear identical clothing—drab-colored suits for men, modest blouses and skirts for women. Cars are rare, reserved for officials. Bicycles and walking dominate the landscape, contributing to the eerie quiet that envelops the city.
State media plays on television screens in lobbies, train stations, and offices, reinforcing the official narrative that North Korea is a prosperous and morally superior nation. But behind closed doors, residents whisper about food shortages, missing neighbors, or the smuggled flash drives containing foreign dramas.
Education, Indoctrination, and Fear
Schools in Pyongyang are centers of political indoctrination. Children are taught loyalty to the Supreme Leader from the earliest age. Military-style drills and oaths of allegiance are part of the daily routine. Dissent is unthinkable—and dangerous.
Those who show signs of disloyalty risk being removed not only from the city but from society entirely. Whole families can be banished to labor camps for the actions of one member, part of the regime’s system of "guilt by association."
A Carefully Composed Image
To the outside world, Pyongyang projects a vision of discipline, pride, and harmony. But the reality is far more complicated. Beneath the silence is tension. Behind the smiles is fear. And under the polished surface is a population conditioned to survive by pretending everything is fine.
“The quiet isn’t peace,” says a defector now living in Seoul. “It’s control. People don’t speak unless they’re sure it’s safe. That’s what Pyongyang really is—a place where silence is survival.”
In a city built to impress the world, truth remains hidden in plain sight—muted by loyalty, shaped by propaganda, and enforced by fear.