Our Man in Pyongyang

Recent headlines out of North Korea haven't been as exciting as news from its supposed cohorts in the "Axis of Evil." Next to Saddam's trial and Iran's capture of British sailors, glacial nuclear negotiations and opening of a new industrial park--a joint venture where South Korean companies can reap low North Korean wages--don't really get the blood boiling.

But hints of economic openness suggest North Korea might harbor secret hopes of becoming the next China or India, instead of a Stalinist Shangri-La. If a North Korean thaw ever comes to pass, a locally based international relief agency will be partly to thank.

Mercy Corps has long funneled food and medical assistance into the Communist nation's devastated economy. But the organization's just as proud of the extraordinary rapport with North Korean officialdom fostered by Ells Culver, the charity's co-founder. In more than 20 trips to North Korea, Culver has waged a low-key but relentless campaign of unofficial diplomacy, establishing a link between Oregon and "Dear Leader" Kim Il Sung's domain. Some hope the connection will pay off in future economic and cultural ties.

"I think the North Koreans now see Oregon as a special enclave where things might be possible," says Dave Humphrey, a Lake Oswego businessman who accompanied Culver and about a dozen other Portlanders to North Korea last month. "That's entirely because of Ells."

Culver, a mild 78-year-old Episcopalian who helped start Mercy Corps in 1979, describes his long involvement with North Korea as alternately delicate and bare-knuckled.

"The North Koreans all consider themselves tough negotiators," Culver says. "And it's important to engage them at that level. You find a little civility and sincerity go a long way."

Mercy Corps is one of few private aid agencies active in North Korea. This year, the organization plans to ship more than $200,000 in medical supplies to the country.

As members of the Portland traveling party--an unusually large delegation for North Korea--discovered, the diplomatic grunt work is up to Culver.

"'Beautifully' doesn't begin to describe the way Ells handles things over there," says Jim Rue, a PR man for Robert Pamplin's business empire whose wife works for Mercy Corps and who accompanied Culver to Pyongyang. "They grant him things they wouldn't grant most people."

Culver sees possibilities for Oregon, should the feud between Dear Leader and Uncle Sam ever cool off. The country remains a surreal economic dead zone, with pristine six-lane expressways into Pyongyang nearly deserted. But Culver says a looser future for the nation of 22.6 million is possible.

"What we saw on this trip is that commerce is alive in North Korea," Culver says. "If the country does embrace opportunities to rebuild its infrastructure, the costs will be enormous. But the opportunities for joint ventures--the kind of enterprise we've seen in China and elsewhere--could be there."

In which case, Mercy Corps' home state is in a unique position. "We've gotten acquainted," Culver says. "We've gone there, and we've hosted groups here. You could see, down the line, something significant between North Korea and Oregon."

[Editor's note: This article was written by Zach Dundas and originally appeared in the July 7, 2004 edition of Willamette Week]