Header AD Image
Human Rights

From hunger to freedom: 30 years of changing reasons to escape North Korea

Kim Eun-ju
Protesters against the forced repatriation of North Koreans by the Chinese government (Image: NK Insider/Jang Seiul)

During the famine of the 1990s, estimates of the numbers who starved to death or died from related illnesses ranged from 240,000 to over three million out of a population of around 22 million. If accurate, this higher figure surpasses the total number of casualties in the Korean War. 

The catastrophe was a direct cause of large numbers of defections. Even now, decades later, North Koreans are risking their lives to escape. However, the nature of defection has changed. Over time, the decision to escape has evolved from a matter of sheer survival into a choice driven by the pursuit of freedom and a better life. 

In addition, the methods, costs, and obstacles escapees face, notably, the surveillance systems, have changed tremendously. Today, the harsh reality is that without money, leaving for a better life isn’t possible. 

Tracing the history of defection reveals that it can never be explained as a matter of personal choice. It is more accurate to see it as a consequence of grave human rights violations by the regime, which has chosen oppression and control over protecting its citizens’ right to life.

Well before the famine years, stories circulated of people executed following defection attempts. These early instances were not driven by economic hardship. They were rare acts by individuals who had realized the absurdities of North Korean society. For this, they were labeled “political criminals.” 

Around the time of the death in 1994 of the country’s founding leader, Kim Il-sung, the economic situation worsened drastically. Outbreaks of typhoid, paratyphoid, and cholera spread across the country. Residents whose immune systems had already been severely weakened by malnutrition, collapsed and died. Witnessing the deaths of neighbors and family members, people had no choice but to flee, preferably with their loved ones.

During lectures, I sometimes hear people say, “You made the right choice.” But for me and countless others at the time, leaving was not a choice. It was the only way I could survive. I’m also often asked, “If you were struggling to survive, how did you pay for defection?” To which I reply, “If I had money to give a broker, I probably wouldn’t have defected at all.”

Back then, people with nothing to their name crossed the Tumen River, only to be shot by soldiers or swept away by the river. Those who made it some distance were often captured and dragged back to prison camps. Families left behind were placed under surveillance for failing to prevent a “treasonous act,” and those who lost their breadwinner often starved to death. 

As a result, increasing numbers of orphans roamed train stations and black markets, where they became known as kkotjaebi. 

Defection at this time required courage, not money. Many crossed the river with the resolve, “If I’m going to die anyway, I might as well try.”

The Arduous March, as the regime dubs the famine, is often described with the saying, “The rabbits all died (those who obeyed the Party and starved), the deer ran away (defectors), and only the jackals and foxes survived (those who lived through strength and corruption).” It appeared to end in May 2000 when Kim Jong-il, during a visit to China, declared, “The Arduous March is over and a new phase has begun.”

Of course, the famine did not slow down the nuclear development program. And it served to further isolate North Korea from the international community and deepen the food crisis. 

In addition to those fleeing for survival, some who encountered a taste of limited freedom and affluence in China defected again after being repatriated, while others hearing news from China were inspired to make their first escape.

Defection was no longer just about survival. People defected for various reasons, such as smuggling, freedom, family reunification, or even through human trafficking. Many now crossed the border by paying brokers for safer passage. A tightly woven network formed between border guards and local residents to facilitate these defections, and the North Korea-China border became a busy passage through which people, information, and goods flowed nightly. 

This flow of content and knowledge into North Korea’s underground economy allowed outside influence to penetrate deep into society. In border towns, defection became so common it was likened to “visiting a neighbor.”

At this time, both rich and poor could do it. The former with relative safety, the latter by taking greater risks. Most significantly, in the 2000s, defection began to shift from simple escape to the end goal of securing citizenship in a third country, a form of escape aimed at lasting freedom. However, unlike those fleeing for economic reasons, those who were caught while attempting to reach a third country were treated as political criminals and subjected to severe punishment, including execution.

From the moment he took power in 2012, Kim Jong-un greatly intensified control and surveillance over the border with China. Even the border guards themselves became targets. To prevent collusion between guards and defectors or smugglers, the regime began rotating military units at the border or even disbanding entire border guard units, an unprecedented measure. 

Barbed wire and electric fences were added, along with CCTV cameras, infrared sensors, night vision equipment, and underground traps. The border became a double barrier, one visible, the other invisible.

During the COVID-19 pandemic, the regime took extreme measures, designating border areas as special lockdown zones with shoot-to-kill orders for anyone approaching the border.

China also ramped up its border control measures. In addition to thermal imaging, they deployed facial recognition cameras, collected biometric data, and began patrolling rivers by boat to prevent defection and smuggling. With the full force of physical, technological, military, and psychological measures in place, North Korea became virtually sealed off. This made defection nearly impossible.

The era when a person could cross the river with nothing but courage, or rely on local networks, is over. And yet, just as prisoners managed to escape the world’s most infamous prison, Alcatraz, defections from North Korea have not ceased entirely. It’s just that today they require far more complex and organized operations.

To avoid the advanced surveillance, brokers must bribe border guards at multiple levels. They must also arrange underground routes and make backdoor deals to avoid Chinese authorities during travel. Escape routes now often pass through third-country safe houses, requiring careful planning and significant resources. Defection, once possible through individual courage, is now nearly impossible without access to a specialized network.

As the success rate of defections falls and the risks grow, broker fees have skyrocketed. In the 2000s, a few hundred dollars might have been enough. But under Kim Jong-un, and especially during COVID-19, costs soared into the thousands and even tens of thousands of dollars. 

Before COVID-19, rescuing one defector from China cost South Korean human rights groups about 1.5 to 2 million KRW ($1,080–1,440). Now, it exceeds 10 million KRW ($7,200).

These soaring costs not only hamper the rescue efforts of civil society groups but have become an insurmountable barrier. 

The upshot is that today, if a person doesn’t have money, they can’t even dream of escape. Defection, in other words, has essentially become a privilege, revealing the deep inequalities of North Korean society, where even freedom is a commodity to be purchased.

Rumors are now circulating in North Korea that a “second Arduous March”—another large-scale famine—has begun. The saying that once described the brutality of survival during the 1990s famine, “Only jackals and foxes survived,” has now evolved into, “Only ghosts and aliens are left.” This new expression reflects just how severe and surreal the struggle for survival in North Korea has become.

Now escape is no longer an option. Under Kim’s extreme and aggressive control, the cries of citizens remain trapped within the country, unable to reach the outside world.

Kim Eun-ju
Latest posts by Kim Eun-ju (see all)

Leave a Reply

More Stories

Close