Sticking your head out between the bars, What is the explanation for the new Yalu River cruise?
North Koreans now get to experience a river cruise within sight of China. Image / Canva
North Korea has been running river cruises since April along the Yalu River that forms the border with China in a development that is so unusual that it has become something of a hot topic among analysts.
Given the regime’s long-standing policy of isolation, it seems that the introduction of river trips goes beyond mere distraction, propaganda, or foreign currency earnings. It seems to conceal another calculation.
The passenger boat departs regularly from the banks of the Yalu in the city of Sinuiju and goes over to Dandong on the Chinese side and back in a 10 kilometer round-trip that takes about one hour.
The service is not restricted to Chinese tourists. Any North Korean who presents his or her ID card and pays 20,000 won in North Korean currency can board.
While river cruises have occasionally appeared in the past, they have been one-off events. What is striking now is that they are regular and have continued for several months now.
Media commentators and experts have offered four types of explanation. But each comes with limitations and contradictions.
The first is the public sentiment–calming theory. Japan’s YTN suggested that the cruises were launched to ease local discontent in Sinuiju, where residents have faced economic hardship and frustration from the downturn in border trade with China. In other words, they are a form of entertainment intended to distract people.
However, it is difficult to imagine entertainment of this sort as an attempted solution to serious dissatisfaction over soaring prices, job losses, food shortages, and power outages linked to the trade slump. And anyway, given the 20,000 won fare and the smart attire of passengers, it seems unlikely that it’s the socially vulnerable most affected by hardship who are opting for a cruise.
The second angle is the propaganda theory. Nikkei said that the sight of North Koreans leisurely touring by boat could be a staged attempt to project an image of ‘living in comfort’ both at home and abroad. Keio University professor Atsuhito Isozaki also saw the neat dress of passengers as evidence of deliberate staging for propaganda purposes.
However, for internal propaganda of this sort to be effective, it requires repetition through state media and nationwide exposure. A limited border-zone spectacle cannot achieve that effect. In terms of external propaganda, the cruises could indeed shift the frame, from residents being passive spectacles for outsiders to observe to the residents themselves gazing outward at the world. But this simultaneously exposes them, up close, to the bustling reality of China, risking strong feelings of deprivation. Since the regime has always sought to avoid such direct external comparisons, it is hard to see this as mere external propaganda.
The third possibility is the foreign tourism preparation theory. Mitsuhiro Mimura, a professor at Niigata University, emphasized the sustained nature of the cruises, noting that participants included not only Sinuiju locals but also visitors from Pyongyang and elsewhere. He argued that this could be groundwork for an opening to tourists once COVID-related restrictions are lifted.
Yet so far, the regime has kept foreign tourism and domestic travel strictly segregated and controlled. Since the cruises are aimed at domestic passengers, the link to foreign tourism is tenuous.
Lastly, we have the revenue generation/privatized tourism theory. Daily NK suggested that the cruises could function as private tourism products generating profit, becoming part of a commercial revenue model inside North Korea.
But at 20,000 won, which is roughly equivalent to the price of one kilogram of rice, the fare is far from cheap for ordinary workers. It remains doubtful whether passenger numbers could be sustained enough to offset fuel, manpower, and security costs. Above all, the political risks of fueling ideological drift through exposure to the outside world likely outweigh any economic benefit.
Each explanation carries some validity, but none are really persuasive given the context of Kim Jong-un’s overriding priority of regime preservation through internal cohesion. North Korea endured mass famine during the ‘Arduous March’ of the 1990s, yet chose stricter isolation over reform and opening. The reason was simple: fear that opening the gates could mean the collapse of the regime.
By blocking access to information and contact with foreigners, the regime ensured that citizens remained unaware of the country’s absurdities and could not even conceive of other worlds or possibilities. To that end, it banned consumption of outside media. Even Kim’s recent rejection of the long-cherished goal of unification in favor of a ‘two-state, two-nation’ line reflects a deliberate attempt to reshape national identity itself, completely severing all ties with the outside (South Korean) world.
Against this backdrop, the regular operation of Yalu River cruises, which expose citizens to risky external comparison, seems contradictory.
The key to resolving this contradiction lies in the changing desires of North Koreans.
With the influx of outside content, especially among the younger generation, travel and leisure are no longer privileges of the elite but have become symbols of freedom. Defectors testify that in the past, they could not comprehend movie scenes of couples going on trips simply because of a breakup. Gradually, however, they came to envy ‘a life where one can travel freely even for personal or emotional reasons.’ Daily NK also reported that the cruises sparked anticipation among residents that ‘perhaps freer travel will become possible.’ In other words, the cruises are not calming discontent over daily hardship or reinforcing belief in the regime’s resilience, but raising expectations of travel freedom.
Thus, more than distracting residents, more than promoting the system, more than preparing for foreign tourists, and more than generating revenue, the cruises are likely intended to relieve the accumulated desire for travel, leisure, and curiosity about the outside world.
In a situation where foreign travel permits or true border openings would be fatal to the regime, Kim has opted for an internal ritualized spectacle serving as a safety valve.
The cruises allow residents to glimpse another world without crossing the physical boundary and enter it. They appear to symbolize freedom of movement and openness, but in reality are tightly designed experiences allowed only within a controlled environment.
North Koreans, in other words, may gaze across to China, but they cannot cross, nor make free contact.
Ultimately, the Yalu River cruise is likely a minimal exit channel designed to prevent citizens’ yearning for the outside world from building to a dangerous level.
It is a new governing tactic that combines heavy censorship with limited release, like a high-pressure boiler with a tiny steam vent to prevent explosion. At the same time, it reveals the regime’s recognition that pure repression has reached its limits. There may also be the side effect of signaling internationally that North Korea allows some degree of freedom of movement and travel.
But we must not forget, this cruise that lets residents poke their heads out beyond the bars is, in the end, nothing more than a tool to keep them confined.
Eun-ju is a North Korean defector and the author of "A Thousand Miles to Freedom." She currently works as a social cooperation officer and researcher at the EUM Research Institute, contributing regularly to research on North Korea and defectors. Eun-ju holds a master’s degree in sociology from Korea University.
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