When news recently broke of the execution of Chang Sung Taek, the world began to try to decipher precisely what was the message being sent by this sudden and extreme loss of position and privilege by a man previously seen at the apex of power in Pyongyang. Two years ago, Chang walked along side the funeral procession of the prior leader, his own brother-in-law, Kim Jong Il. Now, he was in quick succession arrested, tried and killed, as an example to all North Koreans, by his nephew, Kim Jong Un.

Clearly, all is not well in the "hermit kingdom."

It is unclear, however, precisely what lessons should be drawn from these extraordinary events. Was Chang's spectacular fall from power driven by paranoia or based on proven facts? Does it show the young Kim at a point of weakness or of strength? What can it tell us of the current state of the despotic and tyrannical regime that governs this impoverished country?

Many would contend that the normal standards used to analyze and critique governments elsewhere in the world are wholly inapplicable to North Korea. For example, at the most fundamental level, Pyongyang is almost completely indifferent to how its actions are perceived by others. The logic at work there is an entirely internal one, unconnected to the wider world.

When Chang's death was announced to North Koreans by state-controlled media, they were told that he had committed grievous crimes and was made to pay the ultimate price. The man who was seen by many as playing the role of regent to the young Kim was supposedly planning to undermine the country's economy and eventually even lead a coup. In addition, he was also reported to have possessed and distributed pornography, as well as not always clapping enthusiastically when Kim gave speeches.

In many ways, these crimes undermine the very foundation myths of this country. If Chang is a traitor, then Kim's grandfather Kim Il Sung, the father of North Korea, allowed this traitor to marry his own daughter. For a country based on the concept of its infallible rulers and the unbridled loyalties that all subjects must show to them, the mere utterance of these crimes on state television is a huge blow to the mythology that binds North Korea together.

Even as Kim stands now as the victor in whatever conflict was brewing between him and Chang, or more broadly between Kim and an older generation of leaders, implicit in these dramatic events is the admission to the men and women of North Korea that mistakes have been made. The fact that there may have been swift retribution comes only secondarily.

Diplomats looking to find the deeper meaning behind Chang's swift downfall will find it hard to draw from these events much more than confirmation that Kim is willing to take whatever steps are necessary to maintain his grip on power. As his country continues to suffer under deprivation and poverty, Kim's primary concern appears to be his own personal political longevity.

There is no reason to believe that the removal of Chang from the levers of power will create either a more stable or a more liberal regime. There is no reason to believe that Kim will now be more confident in his position at home so as to make him more amenable to negotiation and compromise with the international community.

If Kim and the leadership in Pyongyang have any practical creed that they adhere to in their exercise of dictatorial powers, it is perhaps no more than "by any means necessary."

The history of North Korea is the history of power wielded by a single family, and the dynastic transfer of that power from grandfather to father to son. Chang was an uncle to Kim, through marriage to his aunt, Kim Kyong-hui, who has so far apparently escaped the deadly purge instigated by her nephew. The story of Chang's raise to power in the Kim family fiefdom is one of advances and setbacks seemingly linked to the personal favor enjoyed with the ruling Kim at that time. His wife's status in the dynasty appeared to grant Chang a resilience that others at these highest levels lacked.

Perhaps we are simply witnessing in North Korea the exercise of power at a medieval level, where fear itself is an essential tool for governing. In the absence of anything that could be recognized as actual political philosophy or concrete policy preferences, we can only observe the interplay of power and loyalty, and the consequences for those players who get the balance wrong.

The most pressing question then become how much more risky the world is when a country such as this is in possession of nuclear weapons.

Timothy Spangler is a writer and commentator who divides his time between Los Angeles and London. His radio show, "The Bigger Picture with Timothy Spangler," airs every Sunday night from 10 p.m. to midnight Pacific time on KRLA AM 870. To find out more about Timothy Spangler and read features by other Creators Syndicate writers and cartoonists, visit the Creators Syndicate Web page at www.creators.com.

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