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Opinion & Analysis

Why North Koreans are unable to understand South Korea

Kim Yumi
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Born and raised in North Korean society, for many years my world was confined within its borders. I lived, breathed, and believed in the narratives we were taught about it. 

It wasn’t until May 2023, when I fled across the sea in search of freedom, that I was forced to confront a question that had long lingered in my mind: Why is the way we see South Korea so at odds with reality?

To answer this, I first need to acknowledge that even in the darkest corners of North Korea, there were glimpses of the world outside. These glimpses came not through direct contact or open exchange, but through the backdoor of forbidden media. Specifically, South Korean dramas and films. 

Though watching them was extremely risky, a lot of us did it. This exposed us to a sliver of the life we had been told was a farce. 

In these dramas, South Koreans lived in neat homes, smiled at one another over family dinners, and effortlessly navigated bustling streets full of cars and convenience. 

It was an image so starkly different from what we were taught that I couldn’t help but wonder if it was real.

The South was a land of misery, so how could these portraits be true? It was plagued by poverty, crime, and constant turmoil. The people were slaves to their capitalist system, their country ultimately doomed. 

But the illicit dramas painted an entirely different picture. The effect was to spark a quiet rebellion in me, a longing for something more.

But even as I watched, I understood that I was still not seeing the full picture. Dramas, after all, are stories. I had glimpsed one side of a multi-faceted society. 

So, when I finally arrived in South Korea, I didn’t expect those stories exactly. But I expected something close. What I found was far more complex.

The first shock came with the cityscape. Streets filled with people moving freely, stores bursting with goods, and, perhaps most overwhelming of all, the sheer abundance of choice. I had never seen anything like it. The first time I entered a supermarket, I froze in front of the aisles of fruits, vegetables, snacks, and drinks, not knowing what to choose. 

In North Korea, even finding a single fresh apple had been an arduous task. Confronted with abundance, so easily accessible, was a revelation. Actually, it was not just abundance. It was freedom, freedom to choose, to explore, to live.

Another profound realization came from observing how people spoke their minds. In South Korea, criticism of the government is common. News outlets often report on scandals, protests, and policies with an openness that would be unthinkable back home. In North Korea, even whispering an opinion against the government could lead to dire consequences. 

Here, in the open air of South Korea, I found something I never thought possible: the ability to think freely, to express dissatisfaction without fear of punishment.

In reflecting on all of this, I’ve come to see the root of North Korea’s misunderstanding of South Korea. It’s not just about what we are told, but about what we aren’t told. Information about the outside world is so heavily restricted in the North that people live there in a conjured world of half-truths and assumptions. 

For example, I grew up being taught that South Korea was a place of chaos, but even a small peek through the lens of a drama was enough to challenge that view. Yet, as I say, despite the glimpses, I couldn’t see the full picture. No single story, no matter how compelling, can encapsulate the totality of a society.

I remember those early days in South Korea, when I would walk through the streets, still adjusting to the fact that I was free to make choices and form my own opinions, to ask questions, to challenge ideas. 

The contrast between what I had believed and what I was living was almost overwhelming. It was as if I had been given a key to a door I didn’t even know existed. Now, I understand that the true essence of a place cannot be captured in a classroom or a screen. It’s something you only grasp when you live it, when you breathe it, feel it, and make it your own.

But even now, I think of those still trapped in North Korea. They still live in that same bubble, unable to access the world beyond the narrow narrative they are fed. They still believe the South is full of disorder and moral decay. 

Those who, as I did, catch glimpses through forbidden media are still left with only fragments of the truth. They may see the prosperity, the joy, the freedom, but they don’t see the complexities, the struggles, the hidden pains. They don’t see the full spectrum.

It’s a dangerous thing to view the world through the lens of someone else’s story. We can’t grasp a place, a people, or a culture from a distance. We can’t truly comprehend it unless we walk through it ourselves. And this is the most profound lesson I’ve learned in my journey: that the world is not something you can understand through secondhand accounts or distant stories. It’s something you have to live, experience, and feel with your own senses.

I hope that one day, North Koreans will be able to experience the world in this way. I hope they will have the opportunity to see things for themselves, to access the information that has been kept from them for so long. 

Only then will the misunderstandings about South Korea and the world beyond begin to dissolve. And when that day comes, we can begin to write a new story together, one based not on assumptions and half-truths, but on shared experiences and mutual understanding.

Kim Yumi
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