By Hannah Whiting, Former HRNK Research Intern
Edited by Greg Scarlatoiu, President & CEO of HRNK

          What started with the compassionate heart of the King has seen its way through challenge and triumphed once again.[i] The Korean language, in its differing forms and journeys, holds the heart of over eighty million people today.[ii] Language can form a person's identity. The ability to adequately express oneself builds human connection. Kind and true words foster unification. Can a simple understanding of language bridge the gap between two enemy countries? Are the languages of North and South Korea the same or different? How might this affect the future of Korea? The history and evolution of the Korean language lights understanding into the past and breeds questions about the nearing future. 

King Sejong and the compassionate creation of Hangul

          With difficulty communicating, the common Korean lived their life as they watched only the elite communicate with the written word of the Hanja script. Hanja Chinese characters could not accurately depict the full sounds of the spoken Korean.[iii] Many of the Koreans did not endeavor to learn it which created a divide.  

         Much to the benefit of the country, King Sejong portrayed understanding to the fact that the Classical Chinese characters felt hard to learn by the common person (which made up most of the population). Through scientific understanding and compassion, King Sejong and a group of scholars endeavored to create Hangul. This 28-letter language blessed the Korean people with the option to more easily learn to read, write, and accomplish King Sejong’s desire for greater ability to express their feelings (Milwaukee Independent, 2025).

Hangul banned and revived again

           In the Joseon Dynasty, fear took over. They did not approve or like the fact that all the commoners knew Hangul. They also felt that Hanja took more of a respectable stance in terms of language and writing. As a result, in 1504 they banned Hangul. It stayed banned for many years after.

          In the 16th and 17th centuries Hangul began to creep back in. Finally, in 1849, King GoJong requested it back for the writing of important documents. Such occurrences brought back the use of Hangul. Finally, in 1894 teachers began to teach it in schools (The Korea Herald, 2025).

The Japanese rule and banning of the language

          Just under twenty years later in 1910, the Japanese took over and declared Japanese as the official language. They did not, however, eliminate Hangul ... yet. During this time, Ju Si Gyeong helped to name and partially standardize some of the Korean language. In 1938, however, the Japanese removed all the Korean education in schools. They strove to eliminate the entire Korean culture.

          While it continued to stay in use, the language did not officially come back for almost ten whole years.[iv] When the United States finally defeated the Empire of Japan, at the end of World War II,[v] the Koreans renewed their pride in the language and Hangul received full standardization. The Koreans’ preservation, memory, and protection of the language and alphabet carried through. Their endurance paid off as they retrieved their beautiful culture again (Linguatute, 2025).

North and South Korea split, affecting the language

          Despite the joyful liberation from colonial rule, Koreans experienced conflict within their own country. Toward the end of World War II in the Pacific, the Soviet Union occupied much of the north side of Korea and the United States assumed control of the south. They helped to create the line between North and South Korea as they both supported different governments. The Soviet Union left the North overwhelmed by communism and the United States instituted in the South an incipient democratic government.[vi]

          This resulted in the infamous official split of North and South Korea in 1948.[vii] That next year, North Korea created Chosŏn’gŭl (조선글). This language took out Hanja and kept the Hangul (Linguatute, 2025). The South Koreans, on the other hand, kept both. Korean dictionaries use Hanja to explain words.[viii]

North and South Korean language in the modern day

          In the modern day, South Korea has continued to experience language influence from the outside world. When asking a North Korean escapee what she found most distinct about the current South Korean language she responded “loanwords.” Due to history, 60% of the language consists of Sino-Korean.[ix] Many wonder why we use two different number systems in Korea. Sino-Korean owns one number system. There are two because China influenced Korea many years back. This evolved into Sino-Korean.[x] Currently there are many loanwords that come from the United States.[xi] Completing a quick search will provide English-Korean words such as “pizza, computer, television, ice-cream, shopping, jogging” and more.

          North Koreans are known to use some Russian and Chinese loanwords.[xii] North Korea has also striven to eliminate language from South Korea. In 2023 the Pyongyang Cultural Language Act stated that they will put someone for at least ten years in a labor camp if they spread the “puppet language,” a term North Korean propaganda uses to describe the South Korean dialect.[xiii] This type of desire for negative talk about the South dates to the end of World War 2.[xiv] 

A present and potential future, marked but not defined by differences

          If the North and South came back together, they would need to consider and agree upon how to use the language. Would they choose to take Hanja out altogether throughout the whole country? Who would decide this? The current app “Univoca” helps to bridge the gap between North and South Korean words by providing continually evolving translation.[xv] North Koreans have found it useful. South Korean teachers hope it will help the escapees to integrate well.[xvi]

Concluding remarks

          In conclusion, the Korean language and Korean writing have evolved overtime. From Hanja to Hangul creation, to elimination, to the rise again, to the Japanese rule, and to the revival of Hangul. Hangul survived despite the leadership that desired its extinction. Currently North and South Korea benefit from the uses of its creation.

          With knowledge of South Korea accepting more new words, one may conclude that in the future the dialects of the North and the South will differ even more. To what degree might this produce problems? If the language difference continues to increase and the North and South reunite, the country may need more translators. The younger generation of Koreans may need to look to their older generations who better remember the traditional language. Expressions of patience and humility may need to take place as the people regain their understandings and form the future official Korean language.

Hannah Whiting is a former HRNK intern and an aspiring marriage and family therapist with a Bachelor's degree in Marriage and Family Studies and a certificate in Child and Family Advocacy. Her love for the people of Korea developed while living as a missionary for the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints in Seoul, South Korea. While there, the Korean people and experience won her heart and changed her life forever. 

Endnotes
[i]. Milwaukee Independent, “The Creation of Hangul: A Linguistic Masterpiece Designed by King Sejong to Increase Korean Literacy,” Milwaukee Independent, accessed August 30, 2025, https://www.milwaukeeindependent.com/articles/creation-hangul-linguistic-masterpiece-designed-king-sejong-increase-korean-literacy/.

[ii]. The Korea Herald, “Korean Has 81.7 Million Speakers, Driven by Global Pop Culture Superpower from Asia,” Korea Herald, accessed August 30, 2025, https://www.koreaherald.com/article/3032661#:~:text=Korean%20has%2081.7%20million%20speakers,pop%20culture%20superpower%20from%20Asia.

[iii]. The Anthrotorian, “The Hangul Revolution: How the Creation of a New Written Language Changed South Korea Forever,” The Anthrotorian, accessed August 30, 2025, https://theanthrotorian.com/culture/the-hangul-revolution-how-the-creation-of-a-new-written-language-changed-south-korea-forever.
 
[iv]. Linguatute, “Symbols of Identity: The Role of the Hangul Writing System in Korean History,” Linguatute, accessed August 30, 2025, https://linguatute.com/symbols-of-identity-the-role-of-the-hangul-writing-system-in-korean-history/.

[v]. The National WWII Museum, “End of World War II (1945),” The National WWII Museum, accessed August 30, 2025, https://www.nationalww2museum.org/war/topics/end-world-war-ii-1945.

[vi]. Encyclopædia Britannica, “Aftereffects: Korean War,” video, Encyclopædia Britannica, accessed August 30, 2025, https://www.britannica.com/video/aftereffects-Korean-War/-255378.

[vii]. History.com Editors, “North and South Korea Divided: Reasons and Facts,” History.com, accessed August 30, 2025, https://www.history.com/articles/north-south-korea-divided-reasons-facts.

[viii]. 90 Day Korean, “Hanja,” 90 Day Korean, accessed August 30, 2025, https://www.90daykorean.com/hanja/.

[ix]. Duolingo Blog, “History of the Korean Language,” Duolingo Blog, accessed August 30, 2025, https://blog.duolingo.com/history-of-korean-language/#:~:text=The%20impact%20of%20Chinese%20on,similar%20to%20spoken%20Chinese%20today.

[x]. YouTube, “Short Video,” YouTube Shorts, 2025, accessed August 30, 2025, https://youtube.com/shorts/ezfE9gEdQic?si=Q3YyUMkHNNTodbeF.
 
[xi]. Young Pioneer Tours, “Korean Language,” Young Pioneer Tours, accessed August 30, 2025, https://www.youngpioneertours.com/korean-language/.

[xii]. KBS World, “Content View,” KBS World, accessed August 30, 2025, https://world.kbs.co.kr/service/contents_view.htm?lang=e&board_seq=362271.

[xiii]. Daily NK, “Daily NK Obtains Full Text of Pyongyang Cultural Language Protection Act,” Daily NK, accessed August 30, 2025, https://www.dailynk.com/english/daily-nk-obtains-full-text-pyongyang-cultural-language-protection-act/.

[xiv]. The Guardian, “North and South Korea: Tensions, Relations, Issues, Conflict, Division Explained in 30 Seconds,” The Guardian, August 15, 2022, https://www.theguardian.com/world/2022/aug/15/north-and-south-korea-tensions-relations-issue-conflict-division-explained-in-30-seconds.

[xv]. WorldCrunch, “App Helps North Korean Defectors Learn Southern Slang,” WorldCrunch, accessed August 30, 2025, https://worldcrunch.com/tech-science/app-helps-north-korean-defectors-learn-southern-slang/.

[xvi]. The Borgen Project, “Univoca,” The Borgen Project, accessed August 30, 2025, https://borgenproject.org/univoca/.

By Ellie Richard, former HRNK intern
Edited by Greg Scarlatoiu, HRNK President and CEO

The dangers of escaping from North Korea are well-documented. Between dodging landmines, eluding border patrol agents, and avoiding arrest by Chinese officials, North Korean escapees face a path replete with risks. Success on this journey can be the difference between life and death – and it’s a trek that disproportionately affects one group above all others:
 
North Korean women.
 
According to the Tahrir Institute for Middle East Policy, “approximately 80% of North Korean escapees are women.” There are plenty of reasons why North Korean women flee the country more than their male counterparts. To begin, men and women assume different roles in North Korean society, and such differences influence escape capabilities. Men are typically under strict surveillance from the Korean Workers’ Party (KWP), and they are required to serve in the military for a minimum of ten years. While service in the military is compulsory for men, participation is voluntary for women. Women who enlist in the military — though not all are required to — serve for six years. This relatively shorter term provides a broader window for escape for women, as men are conscripted for longer periods.  
 
Generally, North Korean women have more time to spend on their families and communities compared to men, especially married women. Most women in the country participate in the Socialist Women’s Union of Korea, an organization that enlists women in various public mobilization campaigns. Women who are a part of this union spend their weekends working on public infrastructure projects, including road construction work and railway assignments. Married women are exempt from union service, allowing them more time to care for their families. As primary caretakers, they bear a heavy burden, particularly as many families struggle to meet basic needs.
 
Food insecurity is a common push factor that encourages women to flee from North Korea. Most North Korean citizens suffer from some form of food insecurity. The World Food Programme estimates that 10.7 million people are malnourished in North Korea, which is approximately 40% of the population. Food shortages largely stem from North Korea’s decision to prioritize military spending and nuclear weapons development rather than agricultural sectors. Such food deprivation places an enormous strain on North Korean women, who assume more family responsibilities than men. Driven by the urgent need to feed their families, many women flee North Korea in search of food and resources essential for survival.
 
This food insecurity and resulting economic hardships encourage women to seek pathways to escape from North Korea. During the famine of the 1990s, many women became more involved in informal markets known as the Jangmadang. Their participation in these markets enabled them to gain more financial independence and, as a result, become exposed to outside market actors. Women were introduced to economic opportunities outside of North Korea, and these opportunities for a lucrative career became enticing as many struggled to feed their families.
 
Human traffickers target these women and prey on their vulnerabilities — especially ringleaders who run complex human trafficking networks in the People’s Republic of China (PRC). Perpetrators in China work in tandem with corrupt brokers who lure North Korean women to China under false promises of employment to exploit them for financial gain. One common form of exploitation and crime is sex trafficking. A report by the Migration Policy Institute states that “more than 60 percent of North Korean girls and women between ages 12-29 who escape are trafficked into China’s lucrative sex trade.”
 
Cybersex trafficking is a dangerous subset of this crime. The Migration Policy Institute reports that in recent years, “a growing number – approximately 15 percent of those trafficked – have been coerced into cybersex, which includes livestreamed sexual abuse and rape to a paying clientele of mostly South Korean men.” Such a finding demonstrates the expansive nature of these trafficking networks, as traffickers exploit women in China and other countries.
 
The black market for North Korean women in China extends beyond sex trafficking, too. Traffickers also coerce women into forced marriages. Indeed, the Migration Policy Institute finds that “more than 30 percent [of women] are believed to be sold into forced marriages with rural Chinese men.” This situation stems from a lack of marriage-age women in the northeast region of China due to previous population control measures implemented by the PRC. The infamous ‘one child’ policy, where the government restricted families from having more than one child, resulted in a skewed sex ratio in China, as families would undergo gender-based abortions to avoid having a female child. This female infanticide, in turn, created a large demand for brides, and North Korean women proved a convenient solution.
 
The consequences of this situation are devastating. North Korean women in forced marriages not only suffer from rape and gender-based violence but also live under constant threat of arrest. They have no official standing in China, nor do they have any legal avenues they can pursue to protect themselves. The Chinese government often categorizes North Korean escapees as ‘economic migrants’ rather than asylum seekers, and such mis categorization facilitates a system of forced repatriation. The government can deport citizens without acknowledging the immense danger they face upon returning home, including imprisonment, torture, and execution upon return to North Korea. Female escapees face a unique set of hazards. The Transitional Justice Working Group affirmed that “in detention centers and interrogation facilities, female returnees are reportedly subject to invasive gynecological exams, beatings, and sexual assault, all without medical justification or legal oversight.” Women carrying children face even greater consequences. Pregnant women in detention centers are subjected to forced abortions and infanticide as punishment for their ‘disloyalty’ to the Kim regime.
 
This data, if nothing else, provides a window into the experiences of women who try to escape from North Korea and the dangers they face along the way. However, the data can only tell so much of the story. Statistics on a page cannot sufficiently convey the overwhelming fear these women experience and the strength they are required to possess during their journeys. The voice of Vivian Kim, an escapee-turned-human rights advocate and U.S. CEO, best showcases the resilience of female North Korean escapees.
 
***
 
Originally born in the northern province of Hamgyong Bukdo, Vivian spent her entire childhood and adolescence in North Korea. She witnessed extreme poverty and starvation firsthand, as well as the censorship and indoctrination levied by the Kim regime. She knows how it feels to live in a totalitarian state, and she knows how dangerous it is to leave it, having done so herself in 2010. Vivian recently described her experience leaving the regime in an interview with HRNK, and among all the trials and tribulations she faced, one topic kept resurfacing throughout the conversation:
 
Fear.
 
When asked about the scariest moment during her escape, Vivian didn’t hesitate to answer: “Every single moment. It’s not just one moment. Every single step. Every single moment until I got to Thailand.” Her journey stretched from backcountry roads in China, jungles in Laos, rivers in Thailand, and eventually the Hanawon refugee center in South Korea. Natural dangers jeopardized her safety at every location, as she navigated rugged mountains, frozen rivers, and treacherous insects during her trip.
 
Man-made threats were even more frightening. “The first scary thing when I decided to escape, and as I crossed the border, was that I might be shot in the back by the North Korean government,” Vivian said. “The second [threat] was not by the North Korean government but by the brokers, the human traffickers.”
 
In her interview with HRNK, Vivian provided greater insight into the mindset of the brokers who help North Koreans escape. Many of them charge substantial fees to individuals and their families looking to leave North Korea. Even if a woman can meet the base costs, she still runs the risk of being outbid by a human trafficking perpetrator who wants to sell her into sex work. Many brokers will choose the more profitable option, creating a cycle of exploitation. Vivian’s husband, a fellow defector and human rights advocate named Jake Kim, wired a substantial amount of money to their broker to protect his wife’s safety. As a result, Vivian avoided any ensnarement in these human trafficking rings. The same cannot be said for every woman who makes this journey. Many who rely on their brokers are ultimately betrayed, highlighting how difficult it is for these women to decide whom to trust.
 
These anxieties stick with defectors long after they arrive in a safe new country. Some defectors might struggle to trust people following their experiences with these brokers. Vivian, meanwhile, still carries trauma related to law enforcement as the Chinese government could have arrested her on multiple occasions.
 
 “Police cars are normal. Police cars are everywhere in the world, but the lights, not only for me but for all North Korean escapees in China, [I feel like] someone is watching me, and they are going to shoot me,” Vivian lamented. “It’s so so scary. Every time I see police car lights, it’s this kind of trauma.”
 
The struggles she faced, both as a North Korean defector and as a woman, during her escape, were tremendous. Her journey is described in much greater detail in her book, A Necessary Lie: Escape for Freedom and Love, which she co-wrote with her husband and author Heidi Tucker.
 
After speaking with HRNK, Heidi reaffirmed how traumatizing this experience was for Vivian, having worked with her to translate her story. “The fear kept coming up,” Heidi recalled. “The fear of Vivian crossing the ice [on the frozen Yalu River]. She was just like ‘How did my heart not stop beating? The fear that they were going to shoot her in the back at any moment…[she] would often go back to the fear.”
 
Fear is a central part of her story, but so too is the strength and perseverance she displayed in the face of this distress. Despite the odds being widely stacked against her, Vivian Kim found a way out and eventually reunited with her husband. She is now a loving mother of two children, a proud college graduate, a prominent CEO of a children’s clothing brand, and an empowered human rights activist in the United States. Vivian’s story is nothing short of inspiring and a critical reminder of the importance of this issue.
 
***
 
I believe that the United States of America has a moral responsibility and strategic opportunity to promote and protect the rights of North Korean citizens and refugees. Escapees — many of them women — are often overlooked and forgotten about. To amplify their voices, I believe we must urge members of Congress to reauthorize the North Korean Human Rights Act of 2004. Although this legislation largely enjoyed bipartisan support, it expired in 2023 and its renewal is critical. The bill not only reaffirmed the United States’ commitment to protecting human rights and democracy on the international stage but also funded vital refugee support programs and supported independent media outlets like Radio Free Asia and Voice of America that broadcast information into the country. Reauthorizing this act would send a clear message: the United States cares about the well-being of North Korean refugees and citizens and will not turn away from their struggle.
 
With over three years since the last congressional hearing on North Korea, it’s time to push for renewed focus. Contact your representatives to demonstrate your concern for this issue. More specifically, let them know that you want to see the North Korean Human Rights Act of 2004 renewed. The time for passive concern has come and gone. We must act decisively, and we must act now.
 

Ellie Richard is a senior at the University of Michigan, where she is pursuing a double major in International Relations and Spanish, along with a minor in History. As a pre-law student, she is deeply passionate about foreign affairs, with particular interests in international human rights law and immigrant rights protection. Ellie brings valuable research experience to HRNK, having previously served as a research assistant for the University of Michigan Law School. In that role, she collaborated with former U.S. State Department Ambassador and Department of Justice Prosecutor Luis C. deBaca to create an archive documenting the early efforts of the anti-human trafficking movement. This experience — combined with a formative lecture on the implications of the Songbun system in North Korea — sparked her interest in Korean peninsula affairs and strengthened her commitment to uncovering human rights abuses through research with HRNK.

 
Bibliography
Bremer, Ifang. "Almost half of North Korea's population undernourished due to food shortages: UN." NK News, July 14, 2023. Accessed August 16, 2025. https://www.nknews.org/2023/07/almost-half-of-north-koreas-population-undernourished-due-to-food-shortages-un/#:~:text=Security%20/%20Human%20Rights-,Almost%2012%20million%20North%20Koreans%20are%20undernourished%2C%20a%20new%20U.N.,from%20between%202019%20and%202021.
 
"Democratic People's Republic of Korea." United Nations World Food Programme. Accessed August 16, 2025. https://www.wfp.org/countries/democratic-peoples-republic-korea?utm_source=
 
Hee-Seok Shin, Ethan, April Song-Ah Park, Jeonghyun Kang, et al. "Documentation and Accountability for North Korea's Crime of Enforced Disappearance: Stock-taking and Recommendations." Transitional Justice Working Group, 2025. Accessed August 16, 2025. https://en.tjwg.org/mapping-project-north-korea/.
 
Kim, Vivian. Interview by Ellie Richard. Washington D.C. July 19, 2025.
 
Natsios, Andrew, Avie Vaidya, Clayton Elbel, et al. "Is There a Famine in North Korea?" The Committee for Human Rights in North Korea. Last modified June 17, 2025. Accessed August 16, 2025. https://www.hrnk.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/06/IS-THERE-A-FAMINE-IN-NORTH-KOREA.pdf.
 
Reddy, Damian. "Communication to the Commission on the Status of Women." Edited by Greg Scarlatoiu. HRNK Insider. Accessed August 16, 2025. https://www.hrnkinsider.org/2025/08/communication-to-commission-on-status.html.
 
Scarlatoiu, Greg. Interview by Ellie Richard. Washington D.C. August 2025.
 
Tahrir Institute for Middle East Policy. "Trafficked and Forgotten: The Plight of North Korean Women in China." 2024. Accessed August 16, 2025. https://timep.org/.
 
Tucker, Heidi. Interview by Ellie Richard. Washington D.C. July 28, 2025.
 
Um-Lo, Noël, and Eunsook Jang. "Slipping through the Cracks in South Korea: The Uncertain Futures for the Children of North Korean Defectors." Migration Policy Institue, July 8, 2025. Accessed August 16, 2025. https://www.migrationpolicy.org/article/north-korean-defector

By Samantha Clark, Former HRNK Research Intern
Edited by Greg Scarlatoiu, HRNK President & CEO

          When Zimbabwe got independence from white-minority rule in 1980, its new head of state Robert Mugabe was faced with the challenge of consolidating the country while ensuring that he remained firmly in place. Instead of seeking primary advice and support from Western countries, Mugabe looked to Kim Il-sung, North Korea's first leader and founder. He ruled an authoritarian regime centered on very strict discipline, one party, and a  personality cult. Their relationship created one of the most anomalous and notable alliances of the later Cold War. North Korea gave military training, templates of ideology, and grand monuments to Zimbabwe. But these presents also facilitated one of the darkest periods in Zimbabwean history: the Gukurahundi massacres of the 1980s.

          The origins of the North Korea–Zimbabwe alliance can be traced back to the 1970s, during Zimbabwe’s long fight for independence. At that time, the country was called Rhodesia and was ruled by a white-minority government under Prime Minister Ian Smith. Two major African nationalist groups led the struggle against Smith’s regime. The first was Robert Mugabe’s Zimbabwe African National Union (ZANU), whose military wing was known as the Zimbabwe African National Liberation Army (ZANLA). The second was Joshua Nkomo’s Zimbabwe African People’s Union (ZAPU), which had its own armed wing. Foreign powers lined up behind these movements. The Soviet Union backed ZAPU, while North Korea chose to support Mugabe’s ZANU. Pyongyang supplied ZANLA with weapons and training, which built trust between Mugabe and Kim Il-sung well before Zimbabwe gained independence (Young 2018). This early support gave North Korea an advantage over other outside powers when Mugabe came to power in 1980. Both Mugabe and Kim believed that armed struggle, revolutionary vigilance, and collective discipline were the true foundations of political legitimacy, which made the two leaders natural allies (Young 2018).

          Mugabe looked up to North Korea further after independence. In 1980, he went to Pyongyang to witness a meeting of the Korean Workers' Party and listened as Kim Il-sung declared that he would be succeeded by his son, Kim Jong-il. Mugabe valued North Korea's land reform, whereby farms had been “allocated” to peasants working on collective farms, and its concept of "self-reliance" (Juche). He also liked the huge mass games, where large numbers of North Korean kids exercised gymnastics and danced in unison to display their loyalty to the leader. These demonstrations of unity were precisely what Mugabe sought to have at home in Zimbabwe. Upon his return to Harare, he went so far as to set up a Juche study center at the University of Zimbabwe to teach students about North Korea's ideology (Young 2018).
 
          The most significant part of the relationship in terms of impact, however, was in the military sphere. Soon after independence, Mugabe requested North Korea's help in creating an elite force under his direct command. Kim Il-sung agreed, and in 1981 North Korean instructors visited Zimbabwe to train the new brigade, which would come to be known as the Fifth Brigade. As opposed to the remainder of the military, the Fifth Brigade was instructed by Mugabe alone. Its training emphasized unrestrained devotion to the ruling party and loyalty to the president, like the "single-minded unity" that is taught in the Korean People's Army (Young 2018). By 1985, the brigade had grown to around 20,000 soldiers and became one of Mugabe’s most powerful tools.

          Not long after its creation, the Fifth Brigade turned its guns inward. From 1983 to 1987, the unit ran a terror campaign in Matabeleland, a region where support for Joshua Nkomo’s ZAPU was strong. Known as Gukurahundi—a Shona phrase meaning “the early rain that washes away the chaff”—the government claimed it was a security operation against dissidents. It became a massacre of civilians. Around 20,000 people were killed, and very sadly many more were tortured, raped, or forced into reeducation camps. These years remain among the darkest chapters in Zimbabwe’s history. North Korea did not carry out the killings directly. However, by training the Fifth Brigade, it had given Robert Mugabe the tools to crush political opposition on a massive scale. Many distinctive features of the North Korean regime were transplanted to Zimbabwe (Young 2018).

          North Korea also helped design buildings in Zimbabwe. The state construction firm of North Korea, Mansudae Overseas Projects, constructed and designed Harare's National Heroes' Acre, a large monument complex to commemorate individuals who participated in the struggle for independence. The project was completed in 1982 and has large statues, large stone stairways, and an eternal flame, and it is a replica of monuments in Pyongyang. Like much of Mansudae's African work, it was constructed by North Korean laborers for the most part, under conditions akin to forced labor (van der Hoog 2018). The Heroes' Acre was both a monument and a political declaration, acknowledging Mugabe as the rightful victor of a heroic struggle.

          Cumulatively, the export of military skills and mega-architecture captures the way North Korea did business in Africa. On the surface, Pyongyang was a supporter of anti-colonialist movements, joining hands with new independent nations in opposition to imperialism. These alliances served to advance North Korean interests via the establishment of building contracts, weapons sales, and the spread of its ideology beyond its territory (van der Hoog 2018). Zimbabwe was Pyongyang's closest supporter in this policy, and Mugabe's personal admiration of Kim Il Sung helped to sustain it. Despite worldwide condemnation of Zimbabwe for the Gukurahundi massacres and despite growing global condemnation of North Korea for its foreign interventions, the alliance continued. Mugabe continued to publicly praise Pyongyang, and even in the 2000s Juche books could be found in Zimbabwean government offices (Young 2018). For North Korea, the preservation of its ties to Harare showed that it still had allies in the Global South, even as it grew increasingly isolated elsewhere. For Mugabe, Pyongyang was a symbol of authoritarian longevity and a sign of support he had amassed when he had ascended to power.
 
          The Zimbabwe experience illustrates the human rights effects of North Korea's foreign alliances. While “legitimized” as an alleged representative of “anti-imperialist solidarity,” in practice Pyongyang exported repressive practices associated with authoritarianism. In Zimbabwe, the Fifth Brigade was deployed as a tool of mass terror, and Mansudae's monuments legitimized a political culture revolving around a personality cult. These legacies illustrate how Cold War alliances left deep-seated wounds to African domestic politics.
 
          Today everyone is debating whether sanctions are effective against North Korea. They are not, as Zimbabwean lessons teach how difficult it is to prevent North Korea's activities elsewhere. Despite decades of sanctions, North Korea remained active in Africa with cultural cooperation, infrastructure projects, and clandestine defense ties. Zimbabwe illustrates how authoritarian governments exchange favors among themselves all over the world. It also points to the imperious need to document this history, so that the toll taken on human rights is not lost. For Zimbabwe, the Fifth Brigade is one of its darkest post-independence tales. For North Korea, the alliance shows how much power it wielded once—and as a reminder of the devastation authoritarian unity can cause.
 
Samantha Clark is an undergraduate at William & Mary studying Government and History. Her areas of focus are North Korean relations with Africa and the human rights consequences of authoritarian alliances. Recently, she was a research intern at the Committee for Human Rights in North Korea (HRNK).
 
Works Cited
Kuo, Jaewon. “An Exploratory Analysis of North Korea’s Relationship with Africa.” North Korean Review, vol. 15, no. 1, 2019, pp. 61–78.
Van der Hoog, Jonas. Uncovering North Korean Forced Labour in Africa: The Case of the Mansudae Overseas Project Group in Namibia. European Alliance for Human Rights in North Korea, 2018.
Young, Benjamin R. “An Emotional Relationship: Trust, Admiration, and Fear in North Korea–Zimbabwe Relations, 1976–1988.” Journal of Cold War Studies, vol. 20, no. 4, 2018, pp. 6–31.

By Samantha Clark, Former HRNK Research Intern
Edited by Greg Scarlatoiu, President & CEO of HRNK

Since the 1970s, Ethiopia has stood out as one of North Korea’s most enduring partners in Africa. Their cooperation has spanned decades, touching sectors from health to heavy weaponry. While the relationship is often presented publicly as a friendly partnership for development, deeper investigation reveals a complex and controversial bond — one that blurs the line between legitimate state cooperation and violations of United Nations sanctions. Ethiopia’s ongoing dependency on North Korean military technology, as documented by multiple reports and experts, underscores the challenges African nations face when historical alliances collide with modern international law.

Cold War Foundations

As Samuel Ramani notes in The Diplomat (2018), North Korea’s relationship with the Horn of Africa dates back to the Cold War, when Pyongyang provided military assistance to Ethiopia’s Derg regime. During the Ogaden War (1977–78), North Korea supported Ethiopia against Somalia by supplying ammunition, mortars, and training. This early partnership, grounded in ideological solidarity and mutual opposition to Western dominance, set the foundation for a defense-based relationship that continued long after the Cold War ended.

Over time, Ethiopia became one of North Korea’s most loyal military customers. Pyongyang provided munitions, armored vehicles, and technical training, enabling Ethiopia to build its domestic weapons industry. By the 1980s, this collaboration had produced two state-run factories: the Homicho Ammunition Industry and the Gafat Armament Engineering Industry.
According to Andrea Berger’s Foreign Affairs investigation, North Korea helped design, construct, and operate both facilities, allowing Ethiopia to reduce dependence on foreign arms suppliers. While this initially appeared as a strategic move toward self-sufficiency, it also entrenched long-term reliance on North Korean spare parts and technical expertise.

Industrial Cooperation Under Scrutiny

Ethiopia’s weapons factories became central to its military modernization. The Homicho Ammunition Industry, founded in 1987, produces small and heavy ammunition, tank shells, and rockets. Berger reports that Pyongyang’s involvement likely continued through the late 2000s, including the design of rocket-propelled grenade launchers and multiple rocket systems. However, this partnership grew increasingly problematic after UN Security Council Resolution 1874 (2009) explicitly prohibited all arms-related transactions with North Korea, including technical assistance and spare parts.

Evidence compiled by the UN Panel of Experts in 2014 pointed to continuing links between North Korea and Homicho. The factory’s official supplier list included the Korea Mineral Trading General Corporation, believed to be a North Korean entity. Following the UN report’s publication, Homicho quietly deleted the reference from its website — a move that only deepened suspicion. As Berger notes, the “swift sanitization of its publicized suppliers list compounds suspicion that interaction between METEC and Pyongyang is continuing in breach of the current sanctions regime.”

A similar pattern appears in the Gafat Armament Engineering Industry, established in 1989. Originally tasked with producing AK-47s, Gafat was later upgraded to manufacture grenade launchers, artillery, and heavy weapons. Contracts between the Ethiopian government and the Korea Ryong Bong General Corporation — a sanctioned North Korean entity — were active as late as 2007. Ethiopian officials gave contradictory statements to U.S. diplomats about whether North Korean engineers were still “on the ground” after 2008. These inconsistencies raise serious questions about Ethiopia’s compliance with sanctions and the transparency of its defense industry.

Diplomacy and Development Narrative

Publicly, Ethiopian officials have downplayed military ties and emphasized peaceful cooperation. In a 2014 AllAfrica.com statement, President Mulatu Teshome urged both countries to “work for mutual benefits” in fields like health, irrigation, and mining. North Korea’s ambassador similarly praised the “historic friendship” between Addis Ababa and Pyongyang. This diplomatic messaging reflects Ethiopia’s effort to portray the partnership as developmental rather than militarized.

Yet, behind this rhetoric lies a persistent pattern of arms-related collaboration. Ethiopia’s dependence on North Korean spare parts, combined with its reluctance to open facilities like Homicho to U.S. inspection, suggests that the relationship has been driven more by defense pragmatism than by purely civilian aims. As Berger’s research highlights, the sunk costs in North Korean-designed factories make retooling prohibitively expensive, effectively locking Ethiopia into a relationship that is both technically and politically difficult to sever.

International Reactions

The global community has viewed Ethiopia’s actions with increasing concern. The European Parliament’s 2016 resolution condemned both Ethiopia’s human rights abuses and North Korea’s nuclear provocations, symbolically linking the two nations under a banner of international scrutiny. The United States has also applied quiet diplomatic pressure. According to U.S. Embassy cables from Addis Ababa (cited by Berger), American officials repeatedly urged Ethiopia to end contracts with Pyongyang. Although Ethiopian leaders occasionally promised cooperation, those assurances were often undermined by delayed inspections and evasive explanations.

Ramani argues that Ethiopia’s case illustrates how Cold War legacies can perpetuate sanction loopholes: “Despite positive signs emerging from Ethiopia, Cold War legacies, international isolation, and the region’s desire for cheap weaponry could ensure that clandestine links remain a blank spot in the UN sanctions regime.”

Analysis: Dependency and Denial

Ethiopia’s cooperation with North Korea exposes the paradox of post–Cold War statecraft in Africa. On one hand, the partnership advanced Ethiopia’s ambitions to develop a self-sustaining defense industry. On the other, it entrenched a cycle of dependence on sanctioned technology and opaque trade relationships. Even if current cooperation has diminished, the structural reliance on North Korean machinery and expertise may still place Ethiopia in technical violation of UN resolutions.

Furthermore, North Korea’s willingness to export arms manufacturing technology — even at the cost of future revenue — has enabled countries like Ethiopia to circumvent global arms restrictions. This “build it and they will come” model benefits both sides: Pyongyang earns foreign currency, while Addis Ababa strengthens its defense autonomy. However, such collaboration undermines the spirit of international sanctions and raises ethical questions about accountability in global arms production.

Connection to Bechtol’s Findings
Dr. Bruce E. Bechtol Jr.’s research in the Cornell International Law Journal reinforces these concerns by highlighting how North Korea’s illicit financial and military networks extend deeply into Africa. Bechtol explains that Pyongyang uses front companies and small banks in countries such as China, Italy, Russia, and several African states to move funds, conceal arms transactions, and sustain its sanctions-evasion system. His analysis suggests that African partners — including Ethiopia — have been part of this broader web of covert cooperation. By embedding its military and financial operations in the region, North Korea not only circumvents UN restrictions but also secures political and economic footholds that complicate international enforcement efforts.
 
Conclusion

​Ethiopia’s long-standing relationship with North Korea is a reminder that historical alliances can outlast shifting political realities. What began as ideological solidarity has evolved into a web of economic pragmatism, industrial dependency, and legal ambiguity. Despite official claims of peaceful cooperation, evidence from the Homicho and Gafat factories suggests that military and technical ties may have continued well into the sanctioned era. Ethiopia’s challenge now lies in balancing its national interests with the demands of international law — and in deciding whether loyalty to an old ally is worth the growing cost of global scrutiny.

Samantha Clark is a former HRNK Research Intern and an undergraduate student at William & Mary, majoring in History and International Relations with a minor in Psychology. Her academic and professional interests focus on the international relations of North Korea, particularly its interactions with Africa and China.

References

• Andrea Berger, “Is Ethiopia Violating UN Sanctions Against North Korea?” Foreign Affairs, Dec. 23, 2014.
• Samuel Ramani, “North Korea’s Long History of Ties with the Horn of Africa.” The Diplomat, 2018.
• “Ethiopia, North Korea Need to Work for Mutual Benefits – President Mulatu.” AllAfrica.com, Nov. 27, 2014.
• “Belgium: Human Rights – EU Seamen Detained in India, Ethiopia and North Korea Nuclear Test.” MENA Report, Jan. 23, 2016.
• Bruce E. Bechtol Jr., “North Korean Illicit Activities and Sanctions.” Cornell International Law Journal 51, no. 1 (2018): 181–217.

 

By Lianna Leung, Former HRNK Research Intern 
Edited by Diletta de Luca

          Each night in the North Korean city of Hyesan, a girl, “Kim”, would watch the lights flicker on in the Chinese village across the Yalu River. From the pitch-blackness of her own home, her confusion and unease grew: why did North Korea have no reliable electricity of its own? Though merely a simple observation sparked by childhood curiosity, decades later she would look back on those moments as emblematic of her growing disillusionment with the regime. Years of propaganda extolling the virtues of communism stood in sharp contrast to the inequality and resource deprivation she witnessed daily. As hunger and despair grew amidst a crumbling economy, her hopes for the future dwindled. At the age of 19, she escaped.
       Hundreds of thousands of North Koreans have followed Kim’s path, and roughly 34,000 have settled in South Korea[1]. The vast majority escape across the border to China, making the perilous water crossing at the Yalu or Tumen Rivers. Some remain there, living under constant fear of repatriation or trafficking. Others press onward through Laos, Cambodia, or Thailand to reach a diplomatic or consular mission that can facilitate their transfer to South Korea, as embassies in countries hostile to North Korean escapees are too closely guarded to access. Many spend days navigating dense jungles to cross the Mekong River into Thailand[2]. The journey is over 3,000 miles.
         The plight of North Koreans under the regime is widely recognized, yet the challenges do not end upon reaching safety in South Korea. Adjusting to life in one of the world’s most competitive and technologically advanced societies is daunting, especially for escapees carrying decades of trauma, gaps in education, and little preparation for capitalist life. To ease this transition, the South Korean government offers extensive programs providing financial, health, and academic support[3].
       This piece traces the North Korean escapee journey—from escape to arrival to resettlement in South Korea—through the stories of two refugees from Hyesan, both interviewed for this research. Referred to by surnames only, the perspectives of “Lee” and “Kim” are not meant to represent every escapee’s path, but rather to shine a light on the human dimension of the transition process.
 
Kim’s Story
 
          Kim first dreamed of escaping at the age of twelve. She had witnessed the failures of the North Korean regime, reflected literally in the failing power grid that left homes in darkness after sunset. After the disastrous currency reform in 2009, her dream became an imperative. Inflation soared—she could no longer afford basic necessities at the local market and began to starve. Kim had lost faith in the communist system; its promises of equality and prosperity had rung hollow for too long.
         Hoping for a better life in China, Kim tried to flee North Korea. Her first two attempts were failures, and on the third, she was apprehended by Chinese authorities shortly after crossing the border and repatriated back to North Korea. As punishment, she was imprisoned within one of North Korea’s notorious labor camps, where inmates endure torture, assault, and inhumane conditions[4]. “I was treated worse than an animal,” she later recounted. To secure her early release, her mother sold their house to finance a bribe to authorities. With no shelter and dwindling food options, Kim made a final desperate bid to escape. She knew another failed attempt could mean life imprisonment—or worse—but at the very least, choosing to leave accorded her agency and dignity.
          With the help of a broker, she and her mother successfully made it to China, but the freedom she had sought was denied once more. A thriving market in human trafficking exists in northern China, with men paying substantial sums to “buy” North Korean wives. Kim was exploited by such a transaction—once she reached China, she was introduced to a man and told she was to begin living with him immediately. Separated from her mother and alone in a foreign country, she was forced to rely on her new husband, living under the constant fear of repatriation. “I had no real freedom,” she said. “I couldn’t make choices.”
          Kim spent three years in China, during which she gave birth to a son. Children of North Korean escapees exist in legal limbo in China. Without papers from either country, they are left particularly vulnerable to forced repatriation to North Korea—as Kim had experienced in failed escape attempts—where many face imprisonment and xenophobic discrimination for their “tainted” Chinese blood. Fearing for her son’s future in China, Kim escaped once more. With her family, she crossed through Vietnam and Laos before finally reaching South Korea. There, for the first time in her life, the prospect of both survival and freedom felt real.
 
Lee’s Story
 
          Hyesan sits frozen at the Northern border of North Korea, where winter temperatures plummet to an average of -2°F (-18°C), making it one of the coldest places on the Korean Peninsula. In this harsh climate, rice cannot survive. Families like Lee’s subsisted on corn and potatoes, supplemented by wild vegetables foraged from the mountainsides during the brief growing season. “I never felt full,” Lee recalls of his childhood.
         Life was tightly bound by state ritual. School days began and ended with chants of pro-regime propaganda echoed by each student. At home, families dutifully cleaned the portraits of Kim Il-Sung and Kim Jong-Il that adorned their walls, knowing that unannounced police inspections could occur at any moment to examine their condition. Yet because of Hyesan’s proximity to China, smuggled CD players and foreign media often made their way across the border, carrying with them glimpses of life beyond the Workers’ Party’s control. Lee remembers watching forbidden South Korean dramas, draping blankets over windows to conceal the glow of his television screen from neighbors, since consuming “reactionary culture” is an offense punishable with years of forced labor[5]. When freed from the obligations of work and study, Lee swam in the rivers that wound through his hometown. He lamented never visiting the ocean—in North Korea, travel for leisure is virtually nonexistent, and leaving one’s assigned city requires a special permit.
          Lee’s father reported to his state-mandated position, but the family’s actual survival depended on his mother’s business. In North Korea’s rigid patriarchal society, while men are tied to military or state-mandated jobs, women are left with greater freedom to participate in the flourishing black market economy. Lee’s mother frequently visited China to smuggle goods, generating enough income to keep food on the family’s table. However, as North Korean authorities began scrutinizing her activities, she recognized that discovery and imprisonment was becoming inevitable. She chose instead to remain in China, sending word through a broker that the family should follow. With their primary income source severed and starvation looming, fifteen-year-old Lee decided to escape.
         Lee’s family purchased the services of a broker to cross the border, but midway through the journey he demanded a higher fee, threatening to turn them over to Chinese police if they refused. Facing imminent repatriation, Lee fled, eventually finding refuge with a Korean pastor in Qingdao. Even then, he was constantly fearful of being caught and sent back to North Korea. “Living in China, you don’t have to worry about hunger,” Lee would later reflect, “but you’re always hiding.” For nine months, Lee lived in this liminal space between escape and safety. Ultimately, with the help of the pastor, Lee trekked across Laos and Thailand to reach the South Korean embassy in Bangkok, finally resettling in South Korea. During the escape, Lee’s sister was caught by Chinese authorities and repatriated to North Korea. He hasn’t heard from her since.
 
Initial Intelligence Inspection
 
          It is the official policy of the South Korean government that all North Koreans are entitled to birthright citizenship rights in South Korea[6]. Accordingly, South Korean embassies and consulates are obligated to accept North Koreans who seek protection and to facilitate their transfer to South Korea, where they enter a standardized resettlement process.
          Upon arrival, North Korean refugees are first transferred to the North Korean Refugee Protection Center in Siheung, Gyeonggi Province. There, they undergo extensive interrogation under the jurisdiction of the National Intelligence Service[7]. The investigation is grounded in genuine threats; in 2010, South Korean authorities arrested two alleged North Korean operatives who planned to infiltrate the nation and assassinate a high-profile defector[8]. The vetting process typically ranges from several days to several months, designed to verify that escapees do not pose security risks as potential spies or double agents. During this period, they undergo thorough background checks and detailed interviews regarding their personal histories, escape routes, and any intelligence they may possess[9]. The interrogation procedures are rigorous—the inspectors, no-nonsense. “I stayed in one room during the interrogation for over a week,” Lee recounted. “They pushed us, [asking] where I used to live, what I did, everything.”
          Kim was there for three months, during which she faced extensive questioning about minute details of her North Korean life, including the names of acquaintances, schools, and teachers. Despite the confined nature of the facility, Kim recalled feeling thankful for her safety; she was together with her son and had escaped the traumatic circumstances of her life in China.
 
Life at Hanawon
 
          Hanawon facilities, literally translating to “unity center,” serve as transitional institutions where North Korean escapees spend their next twelve weeks. The establishment of these centers emerged in response to the dramatic increase in refugee flows following North Korea's devastating famine during the 1990s, known as the “Arduous March.”[10] To address this crisis, South Korea created the Ministry of Unification, establishing an institutional framework to guide North Korean refugees’ integration into South Korean society.
          The first Hanawon opened its doors in 1999 and has since processed over 30,000 refugees who have resettled in the country[11]. The COVID-19 pandemic, however, significantly impacted refugee flows—numbers have reached historic lows due to border closures and intensified crackdowns by the Kim regime. In 2024, only 236 escapees entered the country, a stark contrast to the thousands who arrived annually in the early 2000s[12]. The program currently operates a facility in Anseong serving women and children, and another in Hwacheon dedicated to men.
       Hanawon’s mission encompasses two objectives: ensuring the physical and mental health of escapees, and preparing them to enter South Korean society through education and vocational training programs.
          The centers are equipped with medical facilities, including general hospitals and specialized mental health units. Many escapees suffer from severe depression and anxiety, stemming from trauma experienced in North Korea, the harrowing escape process, survivor's guilt from leaving family members behind, and uncertainty about their future prospects. Addressing these needs, Hanawon opened a center for mental health in 2018, providing professional individual and group therapy services[13].
           Refugees’ physical health is often substantially worse than that of their South Korean peers as well, with many suffering from vitamin deficiency and musculoskeletal diseases (MSK) after years of chronic malnutrition[14]. The dental health of escapees is particularly concerning—over 90% visit the on-site dental clinic, and ultimately 30-40% end up needing dental prosthesis treatment due to their limited access to healthcare in North Korea[15]. Kim herself recalled being in and out of the hospital with pulmonary tuberculosis (TB) for three years after she arrived in South Korea. “The most difficult part of it was taking pills all the time,” she recounted.
         Beyond healthcare provision, Hanawon addresses the challenge of enabling North Korean refugees to adapt to South Korean society. This process confronts vast disparities across multiple dimensions, including in technology, governance, and economic systems.
          Through a 400-hour curriculum, escapees learn skills most South Koreans take for granted: using ATMs and computers, recognizing and avoiding financial scams, and understanding democratic procedures[16]. Refugees are given a primer in history, including the true origins of the Korean War—launched by Kim Il-Sung’s invasion rather than “American aggression.” The North Korean education system is grounded in propaganda, often unjustly portraying South Korea and the West as antagonizers. For many escapees, confronting the reality that their education was based in falsehood is deeply unsettling. Lee, however, embraced the change. “South Koreans don’t lie about education,” he said. “So, I just accepted what I learned.”
          The most substantial component of the program, 162 hours, is dedicated to vocational training and career guidance[17]. North Korean escapees can take courses on cooking, nail art, baking, electronics manufacturing, and nursing, among others. While these programs historically emphasized blue-collar skills, the Ministry of Unification has worked to diversify career pathways, as North Koreans have long faced higher unemployment and lower annual salaries than their South Korean counterparts on average[18]. These efforts have yielded some progress: the monthly salary of escapees has risen steadily since 2011, and the salary gap with South Korean natives shrunk to 457,000 won ($328) in 2021, though there’s been little improvement in the quality of employment[19].
             Refugee experiences at Hanawon vary considerably. Lee found immense relief in having arrived safely in South Korea and took enjoyment in the amenities of the facility: “I could play soccer and table tennis, had access to the Internet, and got an education.” For him, the comfort of interacting with fellow North Koreans in a free society and exercising personal autonomy outweighed any concerns or boredom.
            Kim’s impression of her first few months was less rosy. She was overwhelmed with anxiety about what to make of her new life in South Korea, and recalled: “For the first few days, I couldn’t fall asleep because of concerns for the future.” The coursework on fraud and scams felt redundant given her years of navigating bribery and trafficking networks. “That kind of thing, you don’t need to teach me,” she said. And while Hanawon’s tightly controlled environment was meant to ease the transition, its restrictions often felt stifling. Residents were permitted to leave only under supervision, for organized visits to banks, stores, or government offices[20]. Kim’s favorite moments were brief opportunities to step outside alone, a freedom she had been denied during the initial months of security investigations.
 
Entering Society
 
            After leaving the Hanawon, North Korean escapees receive a base stipend, healthcare, subsidized housing arrangements, and support from regional “Hana Centers.”[21] Yet, this assistance is often capped at five years, creating pressure for refugees to secure immediate employment regardless of job quality. For those pursuing higher education, the government provides special admission pathways and tuition subsidies. Nevertheless, the dramatic education gap between South Koreans and North Koreans makes the transition especially difficult.
            In North Korea, rather than providing education as a tool of knowledge and self-empowerment, it serves to mold citizens into loyal and productive members of the state. Hundreds of hours are dedicated to learning the history and actions of individual leaders and studying “Juche” (or self-reliance) ideology. Even fundamental subjects such as math are tainted with propaganda. For instance, an exercise from a 2003 textbook read: “During the Fatherland Liberation War the brave uncles of the Korean People’s Army in one battle killed 374 American imperialist bastards, who are brutal robbers. The number of prisoners taken was 133 more than the number of American imperialist bastards killed. How many bastards were taken prisoner?”[22] In stark contrast, the South Korean system is globally recognized for its rigor, with lengthy school days, competitive testing and a strong emphasis on academic achievement. “It is difficult for North Korean escapees to compete with those who have been taking private education from the age of 3 or earlier,” said Ethan Hee-Seok Shin, a legal analyst at a North Korean human rights organization based in Seoul.
            Lee’s experience illustrates these challenges. Because his escape took years, he fell behind his age cohort and enrolled in a school exclusively for escapees. With government tuition support, he eventually studied political science at university. Kim was even further behind; she had failed to graduate middle school in North Korea. Despite demonstrating strong potential throughout elementary school, she was devastated when her family couldn’t afford the requisite bribe for admission into the more prestigious middle school. She dropped out of school entirely, disheartened that merit alone was worthless in the North Korean system. At age 23, while caring for an infant son, Kim began studying independently for middle and high school equivalency exams. For ten months, she studied relentlessly. “It was really hard, both physically and mentally,” she said. Ultimately, she passed, going on to enroll in an Education program in college. Yet the competitive nature of South Korean society left her exhausted, and she worked constantly to keep up with her peers. On top of that, she recalled the excruciating difficulty of spending so much time apart from her 3-year-old son—she only saw him briefly on weekends while relying on a community of nuns for weekday childcare.
         Even with state support, many refugees face profound social and psychological challenges. Research shows that roughly half of all North Korean escapees suffer from Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD), often resulting from experiences such as witnessing public executions or enduring extreme stress during their escape[23]. Kim herself suffered from depression and anxiety but found mental health services inadequate for her needs. Though counseling was available, she felt uncomfortable revisiting triggering past experiences. “I had trauma, but I thought, ‘They can’t solve that for me’,” she explained.
             Beyond mental health, refugees also contend with societal prejudice. Despite government efforts to foster a sense of belonging for North Korean escapees, South Korean society can be unforgiving. Misconceptions about defectors remain pervasive: “Some South Koreans expect North Koreans to be lazy or uneducated or communist,” Lee said, mentioning that peers of his had been rejected from jobs explicitly because of their background.
          The transition process is filled with obstacles, but the most profound difficulty for both Lee and Kim arose from a fundamental difference between totalitarian and democratic society: the ability to make your own decisions. In North Korea, individual life trajectories are predetermined, largely based on your songbun (social status) rank[24]. Field of study, employment, and residential location are all closely dictated by the central government, leaving no room to deviate. In South Korea, by contrast, freedom comes with the burden of responsibility. “You are responsible for your life,” Lee said. “In North Korea, you don’t learn about responsibility, because the regime tells us what to do—to be loyal.”
         Kim found her newfound autonomy to be simultaneously liberating and paralyzing. She constantly feared making incorrect decisions and bearing the consequences of her choices. This anxiety manifested in her academic life, where she struggled to choose a major in college. Despite pressure from peers and advisors to pursue Nursing, a lucrative career, she chose to study Education. Though it was a daunting choice, Kim viewed education as not only a way to rebuild her own life, but also a means of giving back—of strengthening the community and nation she was now a part of.
          The challenges faced by Kim, Lee, and others reveal the structural gaps that remain in South Korea’s resettlement framework, which emphasizes short-term integration over long-term stability. The following recommendations highlight areas where policy can better address the mental health needs of North Korean refugees.
 
Recommendations
 
          The South Korean government has made immense strides in improving transition programs for North Korean refugees since their establishment. Hanawons have expanded their capacity, infrastructure, vocational training, and counseling services, incorporating feedback from civil society and escapee experiences. Nevertheless, sustained improvement requires greater emphasis on the long-term welfare of refugees, particularly in the areas of mental health and social integration.
          Pervasive mental illness is a critical concern among the escapee population. North Korean refugees have a suicide rate three times higher than that of South Korean citizens[25]. Although Hanawons are equipped with substantial mental health services, significant gaps remain in mental health literacy among refugees themselves.
          Cultural stigma compounds these challenges. East Asian societies traditionally maintain negative attitudes towards the use of therapy or other psychiatric assistance for mental health disorders. The combination of limited mental health knowledge in North Korea and persistent stigmatization within South Korean society creates barriers that prevent refugees from accessing potentially beneficial treatment. “This kind of support is a fairly new concept even for South Koreans,” explained Hee-Seok Shin. “So introducing [it] for North Korean escapees is still challenging.”
       Kim’s story exemplifies the impact of these constraints. Despite grappling with anxiety and depression, she found it difficult to seek help while also juggling part-time employment, study, childcare, and the demands of adapting to South Korea’s hyper-competitive society. Early detection of trauma at Hanawon, followed by sustained, individualized care, could provide a strong foundation for recovery. Researchers have suggested normalizing conversations about mental health in educational programming and training veteran North Korean escapees as peer counselors, allowing new arrivals to speak to someone with shared experiences[26]. Additionally, mental health professionals must acknowledge and study the specific barriers to resettlement faced by female escapees, many of whom have faced traumatic human trafficking or sexual exploitation during their journey to South Korea.
           Beyond individual health, longer-term integration is hindered by broader structural limitations in the resettlement programs. Although Hanawon delivers a wealth of information and training in a short period, support wanes once refugees leave the facility. Kim described the education style as overwhelming: “They provide a lot of information at once, but that’s not really helpful—you can’t just memorize all that.” She suggested that more gradual exposure to real-life challenges and interactions, while still under the safety of a controlled environment, would have been more beneficial. Lee voiced similar concerns, noting that the brief period of government protection does little to prepare refugees for the sustained difficulties of adjustment.
       Social integration remains another area for improvement. Discrimination—whether explicit or implicit—in employment, education, and daily life has been linked to lower self-esteem and greater disconnection from society among escapees[27]. Even forming friendships can be daunting. North Korean communities are accustomed to tightly knit social networks, where spontaneous visits to neighbors are common[28]. In contrast, South Korea’s urbanized, fast-paced lifestyle often leaves escapees feeling isolated. While Kim and Lee both developed friendships with South Korean peers, they admitted feeling far more comfortable among fellow North Koreans. As Lee explained: “Even though I am close to my South Korean friends, those kinds of stories about my childhood just don’t come out.”
     The government can play an important role in bridging this divide by fostering organic opportunities for North and South Koreans to connect. Such initiatives would not only help refugees build meaningful relationships but also challenge the biases that some South Korean citizens may hold. Public education and media campaigns could further reduce prejudice by humanizing the experiences of escapees. For example, the reality TV show Now on My Way to Meet You, which first aired in 2011, has given defectors a platform to share their stories[29]. While not without criticism, the program has broadened public empathy for the defector experience. Similar documentary and media projects that highlight the everyday lives of North Korean refugees could expand these positive outcomes.
 
Concluding Thoughts
 
          Support for North Korean escapees has been a long-standing policy in South Korea, but as newer generations grow increasingly distant from the historical memory of a unified peninsula, public attitudes may be shifting. “Younger South Koreans, especially women, tend to hold a more hostile view towards refugees and migrants,” observed Hee-Seok Shin. He expressed concern that South Korea’s tradition of acceptance and financial assistance for escapees may gradually diminish as the nation continues to evolve.
          For Kim and Lee, the support and opportunities provided in the South proved transformative. Lee pursued a career as a freelance journalist and radio producer, dedicating himself to advancing the cause of North Korean human rights. Both he and Kim were awarded Fulbright Scholarships to pursue master’s degrees in the United States, where they have shared their life stories publicly and advocated for confronting the North Korean regime’s repression.
       Sustaining and strengthening the government programs that enabled their success is imperative. The ordeals endured by escapees during both flight and resettlement are difficult to fathom, and they—along with future refugees—deserve the opportunity to build a life with what was unattainable in North Korea: autonomy and dignity. Yet privilege, as Lee reminds us through his own experience, is never without cost. Reflecting back on his own hardships, he invoked the words engraved on the Korean War Memorial, a constant reminder of the responsibility society must bear to uphold liberty: “Freedom is not free.”

Lianna Leung is a junior at Stanford University studying international relations, with a focus on East Asia. Originally from Berkeley, California, she is driven by a strong interest in human rights and sustainable development. She has pursued these interests through public sector internships, most recently at HRNK, as well as at the NGO International Bridges to Justice, where she supported criminal justice and legal training initiatives. Her research centers on China’s expanding geopolitical influence, including work with the Hoover Institution examining Chinese media influence in Africa. Through her academic and professional work, she hopes to build a career at the intersection of policy and law, advancing global justice.


[1] migrationpolicy.org. “Slipping through the Cracks in South Korea: The Uncertain Futures for the Children of North Korean Defectors,” June 26, 2025. https://www.migrationpolicy.org/article/north-korean-defector-children.
[2] migrationpolicy.org. “Slipping through the Cracks in South Korea: The Uncertain Futures for the Children of North Korean Defectors,” June 26, 2025. https://www.migrationpolicy.org/article/north-korean-defector-children.
[3] South Korean Ministry of Unification. “Settlement Support for North Korean Defectors.” South Korea Ministry of Unification. Accessed August 21, 2025. https://www.unikorea.go.kr/eng_unikorea/whatwedo/support/%3B.
[4] Hawk, David R. “The Hidden Gulag: The Lives and Voices of ‘Those Who Are Sent to the Mountains.’” The Committee for Human Rights in North Korea. The Committee for Human Rights in North Korea. Accessed August 21, 2025. http://www.hrnk.org/uploads/pdfs/HRNK_HiddenGulag2_Web_5-18.pdf.
[5] Civicus Monitor. “North Korea: New Restrictive Law on Language Issued While Regime Punishes Access to Foreign Media, International Calls.” Accessed August 21, 2025. https://monitor.civicus.org/explore/north-korea-new-restrictive-law-on-language-issued-while-regime-punishes-access-to-foreign-media-international-calls/.
[6] Green, Christopher. “Improving North Korean Defector Integration in South Korea: Survey Findings and Recommendations - 38 North: Informed Analysis of North Korea.” 38 North, August 21, 2025. https://www.38north.org/2022/05/improving-north-korean-defector-integration-in-south-korea-survey-findings-and-recommendations/#_ftn1.
[7] Sung-mi, Ahn. “A Look inside the Revamped North Korean Defector Debriefing Center.” The Korea Herald, June 24, 2021. https://www.koreaherald.com/article/2638513.
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