An anxious world, watching for signs of instability after the death of Kim Jong Il, has been reassured for the time being. After 37 years of brutal rule marked by firing squads and concentration camps, a father's arrangements for transfer of power to his third son, Kim Jong Un, appear to be moving along smoothly.
But in the end, Kim's legitimacy and political survival depend on whether or not he can resolve the ever-present threat of hunger and achieve economic reforms that could obviate a regime collapse.
The line of responsibility is clear: In a fresh burst of personality cult, the young Kim - who turned 29 on January 8 - has assumed official titles of Great Successor, Wise General and Supreme Commander of the North Korean People's Army. As vice chairman of the Central Military Commission of the ruling Workers' Party, he already had virtual control over the 1.2-million-strong standing army.
The powerful posts seemingly rule out any near-term challenges to young Kim's ascension, though few analysts in Seoul expect the unusual third-generation dynastic succession to succeed. The hunger challenge facing the failed, isolated nation of 24 million is too formidable to ignore. The regime has managed to develop a small nuclear arsenal at the expense of feeding its people - a nuclear-first policy that led to some 2 million people dying from hunger during the 1990s.
Thus the rise of Kim Jong Un is overshadowed by the long-running scourge of food shortage, as the country prepares to commemorate the February 16 birthday of his father, a national holiday, and the April 15 centennial birthday anniversary of his grandfather Kim Il Sung, the state founder who died in 1994. In the opinion of many North Korea watchers, it would be unwise for young Kim to launch his mandate without provision of special holiday rations.
Specialists suggest that North faces a 700,000-ton grain shortage, leaving the government unable to feed a third of its populace. After depending on China's handouts for many years, Kim's new team is evidently turning to the US, with North Korean diplomats in New York discreetly asking US officials for food in the midst of the official mourning period. They asked for 320,000 metric tons of grains in a proposed deal: North Korea could suspend its clandestine uranium-enrichment program for food. Washington appears noncommittal, reportedly offering an unspecified shipment of "nutrients," not grains, which it fears may go to feeding the North Korean army.
With the US and South Korea facing presidential elections this year, officials in the two capitals are not averse to such a deal. The key question, as ever, is whether the North can be trusted. For the moment, neither side is convinced Pyongyang is ready. North Korea has broken plenty of promises: It walked out of six-party denuclearization talks in Beijing in 2008, after taking shipments of heavy oil and rice. In an official commentary marking the death of Kim Jong Il, party newspaper Rodong Sinmun cited nuclear arms and missiles as paramount legacies of Kim Jong Il's rule, implying those are not tradable goods.
