SEOUL, South Korea -- To the outside world, the talk often appears to border on the lunatic, with the poor, hungry and electricity-starved nation threatening to lay waste to America's cities in an atomic firestorm, or to overrun South Korea in a lightning attack.
Enemy capitals, North Korea said, will be turned "into a sea of fire." North Korea's first strikes will be "a signal flare marking the start of a holy war." Pyongyang's nuclear arsenal is "mounted on launchpads, aimed at the windpipe of our enemies."
And it's not all talk. The profoundly isolated, totalitarian nation has launched two rockets over the past year. A February nuclear test resulted in still more UN sanctions. Another missile test may be in the planning stages.
But there is also a logic behind North Korea's behavior, steeped in internal politics, one family's fear of losing control, and the ways that a weak, poverty-wracked nation can extract concessions from some of the world's most fearsome military powers.
It's also steeped in another important fact: It works.
'The game' continues
At various points over the past two decades, North Korea's cycles of threats and belligerence have pressured the international community into providing billions of dollars in aid and, for a time, helped push South Korea's government into improving ties.
Most importantly to Pyongyang, it has helped the Kim family remain in power, long after North Korea had become an international pariah. Now the third generation of Kims, the baby-faced Kim Jong Un, is warning the world that it may soon face the wrath of Pyongyang.
He appears largely to be following in his father's diplomatic footsteps.
"You keep playing the game as long as it works," said Christopher Voss, a longtime FBI hostage negotiator and now the CEO of the Black Swan Group, a strategic advisory firm focusing on negotiation. "From their perspective, why should they evolve out of this? If it ain't broke, don't fix it."
The North Koreans find themselves backed into a corner of their own creation. But they also have repeatedly and purposefully backed themselves into those corners, terrifying the world with missile launches and nuclear tests that often end with North Korea getting more international assistance.
Take the early 1990s, when Pyongyang backed away from a nuclear weapons program in exchange for promises of $5 billion in fuel and two nuclear reactors. Or the late 1990s, when North Korea launched a suspected missile over Japan.
In 2006, North Korea terrified the world with a nuclear weapons test, but a year later ratcheted back its nuclear program in exchange for aid and political concessions.
The predictability of the pattern is an important sign to scholars that at least part of what is going on has been carefully considered, and that Pyongyang has clear goals in mind. In other words: No matter how irrational the situation looks, North Korea's leadership is not crazy.
Instead, many observers believe, North Korea simply wants the world to believe it is crazy, leveraging the international community's fear of unpredictability to magnify its power.
The North Korean leadership also retains, as far as is known, the support of its people. Their lives are often miserable and hunger is widespread. But fear of outsiders, and pride in their own resilience, has long helped unify them.
The country was pulverized during the Korean War, when more than 1 million North Koreans are believed to have died. In the mid-1990s, hundreds of thousands are believed to have died as famine swept the country.
Through it all, North Koreans have been fed an unrelenting stream of propaganda that the Kims are watching over them as parents, and are bravely standing up to the aggressive foreign powers, who are said to be preparing to attack.