North Korean Economic Lifelines Get Back to Business

North Korea's shutdown following the death of Kim Jong Il has dropped a veil of silence around an already reclusive nation and closed off its meager interactions with the rest of the world, though traffic along its border with China appeared to pick up on Wednesday.

But work continued as expected for thousands of North Koreans at an unusual industrial complex based on their side of the border but run by South Koreans, according to managers and those who travel back and forth to the facility. Still, those spending time at the Kaesong Industrial Complex also described shorter hours and a tense atmosphere in the wake of Mr. Kim's death.

The fact it was operating at all may be a testament of its economic importance. "I felt the power of the dollar while I was there," said a 50-year-old South Korean surnamed Hwang, who spent three days in Kaesong and returned Wednesday. "Even in the face of the worst news for North Korea, Kaesong was operating as usual."

North Korea closed off to much of the outside world since it announced Mr. Kim's death on Monday, though it appeared to have opened up some of its land border crossings with China for some traffic Wednesday, according to Chinese officials and border traders. A reporter saw a handful of minibuses and trucks crossing the border in each direction at Huichun, usually one of the busiest transit points.

A Chinese official in another border town, Dandong, said the crossing there was also open Wednesday, although not for visiting trade delegations.

The official noted that the resumption of some border activity was "quite different" from the mourning period after Kim Il Sung's death, when North Korea came to a complete standstill.

Chinese officials and traders had said earlier that the North Koreans closed their side of the border with China on Monday to all but returning North Korean citizens. North Korea's border crossings with China are its economic lifelines, as most of its international trade and food aid passes through them. But they are also potential troublespots, as many North Koreans escape over the border to try to defect to the South or to find work in the cities of northeastern China.

Roughly 56 kilometers, or 35 miles, northwest of Seoul, the Kaesong complex employs about 49,000 North Koreans making everything from clothing to kitchenware. It represents a rare meeting of North and South, where North Korean workers earn considerably more than their peers elsewhere and can win incentives—often snacks like pastries and sausages—for their performance.

South Korean employees, who travel to the North each day via a heavily monitored road, said in interviews on Wednesday that they are treating North Korean workers with kid gloves since the announcement of Mr. Kim's death. Still, it's not clear whether the workers' expressions of grief are genuine.

"I saw quite a few people crying" on Monday, when Mr. Kim's death was announced, said one South Korean manager. "I imagine there were people who really did feel sad, but there may have been others who had to act that way. North Koreans seem to be watching each other very closely, and they are quite careful: Some may have had to cry simply because they would have been out of place not to do so and would have been noticed."

The manager added, "Before, we would joke around with them, but right now we're trying to accommodate them as much as possible." He said both sides were being careful, "because any flare-ups could become a big deal at a time like this. It's like walking on thin ice right now."

The Kaesong complex was founded in 2000 following talks between then-South Korean President Kim Dae-jung and Mr. Kim. It has stayed open during even the tensest times between the two countries, including the North's surprise shelling last year of the inhabited South Korean island of Yeonpyeong. Part of the reason is economic: With output totaling $1.44 billion in the first 10 months of the year and wages averaging $114.30 per month for workers, the complex is one of North Korea's major sources of hard currency.

So far, the biggest sign that something is amiss may be in shorter working hours. South Korean managers say. Workers who typically sought out overtime are now watching the clock. "I don't think things will be back to normal for the rest of this year," said one 35-year-old South Korean manager, who said workers are also stepping out to pay their respects to Mr. Kim.

Said another South Korean worker, "They're doing what they're supposed to do, but they're leaving right on time now."

The announcement on Monday led to some tense moments for some South Korean working. "I was stuck [in Kaesong] when Yeonpyeong Island was shelled," said Mr. Hwang. "Frankly, I'm more nervous now than back then. The future is completely unpredictable.