North Korean Defector Economist: How We Analyze North Korea Needs to Change
By: Maria Stella
Maria is a PhD student at the Department of Economics at Korea University, specializing in theoretical economics. Her primary area of interest is developing theoretical models of the North Korean economy. She’s been a participant of the LiNK’s English Language Program since 2022.
When I think about my past, I often feel a great sense of loss and sorrow for the people I left behind in North Korea. As a PhD student studying North Korean economics here in South Korea, I feel a strong desire to use my research to help improve the lives of North Korean people. In many ways, helping those I left behind also gives meaning to my own journey.
Whenever I watch the news or read academic papers on North Korea, I feel saddened by the way North Korean people are discussed and represented. Over time, I have come to believe that the way we analyze North Korea needs to change.
I believe there is a fundamental limitation in existing research on the North Korean economy, as much of it has traditional socialist planned economy analysis. Earlier studies have suggested that North Korea would either collapse or undergo a system transition as other socialist countries have done. However, after the breakdown of the Public Distribution System (PDS) in the mid-1990s and the emergence of the shadow economy (including through the Jangmadang—illegal markets), these approaches began to reveal their limitations.
As a result, the North Korean economy came to be understood not as a simple planned economy, but as a mixed economy in which state control and market activities coexist. However, these studies do not sufficiently explain why the North Korean regime allows marketization to persist at a certain level instead of completely suppressing it.
In order to explain the interaction between the government and ordinary North Korean citizens, who are the primary actors in Jangmadang activities, I divide the North Korean system into three groups: the regime, the elites, and ordinary citizens.
In particular, elites are important economic actors because they function as intermediaries between the regime and the people. My argument is that this phenomenon can be better understood by analyzing how these three groups strategically interact with one another.
These three groups pursue their interests in different ways, and their goals also differ significantly. The leadership wants to continue dynastic rule and ensure stable succession, the elite seek to secure their positions and avoid political risks such as purges, and ordinary citizens primarily seek survival and improved living conditions.
The interests of these three groups sometimes conflict with one another and sometimes align. In my opinion, these three groups in North Korea are currently remaining in a state of equilibrium.
This equilibrium means that these three groups can achieve their maximum interests under the current conditions in North Korea. Precisely because of this equilibrium, North Korea has been able to maintain both regime stability and limited marketization simultaneously.
That is why I believe we must identify what kind of shocks could cause this equilibrium to collapse. If such a change were to occur, it could become a new turning point for North Korea.
A new turning point for North Korea could lead the country toward a new political and economic order. The important thing is that we must identify what kinds of shocks could trigger such a transformation.
I hope for a North Korea that has changed—a place where its people can live freely. For me, North Korea is not just a state; it is my hometown, where I was born and raised, and where my family still lives. This is precisely why I am committed to a different approach to the North Korean issue—because my only goal is to see genuine change in North Korea, and I truly want to help bring about that change.
I want my article to inspire you to see something different the next time you watch the news or media coverage about North Korea. The next time you come across a piece of media about North Korea, I hope you take a moment to think about the real North Korean people. And perhaps you may also reflect on this article and consider what kinds of shocks could transform the current equilibrium of North Korea.
I hope you will join me on this journey.
–
Maria is a participant of the LiNK English Language Program (LELP), which serves to not only help North Korean defectors build confidence and skills in English, but develop their capacity as advocates for this issue. To that end, we partnered with select LELP “columnists” to write and polish personal essays through multiple rounds of external feedback and revision. Our goal is to have more North Koreans share their stories directly and lead efforts to change the narrative.
We believe the North Korean people can achieve their liberty in our lifetime.
Opportunities like LELP invest in the people building that future now. Help more North Koreans find their voice, reach their goals, and lead change on this issue.
A North Korean Mom and Son’s Harrowing Escape | Harry’s Story
The town I grew up in was surrounded by mountains. When the season was right, my friends and I would hike up to look for pears. Fresh fruit was a luxury in North Korea, but the mountainside was covered in orchards. One day we snuck in when the fruit was still green, hoping to avoid the guards.
I hid in a tree, passing down pears to my friends, when we heard a whistle blow. My heart was pounding; it was like a heist movie. I rolled away and ran out of danger. Somehow, we got away with it. It didn’t even matter that the fruit we ate was not ripe and made our stomachs hurt—we felt unstoppable.
Little did I know that just a few years later, I would be running for my life once again… but this time, it was not a game. I would be escaping from North Korea.
Life in North Korea was normal to me. I went to school and spent time with my friends and older sister. All I knew about South Korea was from the movies I’d secretly watched. It seemed like a scary place, where they trafficked drugs and stole your organs.
My mom was often busy with work. She had a job that connected North Koreans to China, wiring money between families. With her income, we were able to live comfortably. But it was risky. She could usually bribe the guards to let her cross the border safely, but it wouldn’t work forever. One day, she was caught and sent to one of North Korea’s brutal prison camps.
My mom spent two years in the prison camp, forced to do intense labor every day while barely being fed. She told us later that she had shared a concrete cell with 50 other people and they lacked basic things like soap, toilet paper, and sanitary products. Guards would abuse their power and find any reason to assault them.
Many people in the camp were also women who had been arrested for crossing the border, trying to find ways to make a living and take care of their children. Dying in prison meant your crimes would be passed on to your family. And so, many of those women endured faithfully until they were released, and then passed away afterward.
When my mom finally left the camp, she quit the work she was doing and told her clients she was done. But one of them refused to hear it.
He was a South Korean fisherman whose boat had been thrown off course by a typhoon, and North Korean authorities refused to let him return home. One night, he showed up drunk at our house and threatened my mom. If she didn’t take him across the border, he would turn her in. So she had no choice. None of us did.
My mom took me with her and brought the old man to the border of North Korea. We were supposed to meet some brokers who would take him across, but they couldn’t agree on a price or a place. After a few days of waiting, everything went wrong.
The police had discovered our plan. They had our photos and were already putting up wanted posters for our capture. There was no way we could go home now. The choice was made for us. We had to flee the country with the old man.
I thought I would die that night. Armed soldiers patrol the river bordering North Korea and China, and are told to shoot defectors on sight.
If caught, my mom would have faced life in prison for her second offense—no better than a death sentence. But somehow, we made it to the other side.
In China, we waited three days in the mountains for our brokers. Every moment spent at a standstill was a huge risk, because Chinese authorities pay local citizens to report North Korean refugees. When it became clear that help wasn’t coming, we headed for a nearby village, laying low in the grass until the cover of night.
By nightfall, we took our chances and entered the village. Luckily, we met a kind woman who introduced us to a new broker. This broker helped us get to another city where the old man was picked up by South Korean officials and flown home to his family. As for me and my mom, we couldn’t go back to North Korea. So we went to see my middle sister, who had already been in China for quite some time.
Before I was born, my mom took my two sisters to China with her. She wanted them to stay there safely, but my oldest sister refused and returned to North Korea with my mom. My middle sister was left behind, sent to live with a trusted friend. But the unthinkable happened. At 12 years old, she was trafficked and sold to be married to a much older man. Every night, she would stand by the water well, threatening to hang herself if the man came near her.
But one year later, the inevitable happened. When she was just 13 years old, she had a baby.
Like many other young North Korean women, my sister went across the border seeking a better life, but ended up living her teenage years in captivity, with no laws or family to protect her. Every day she had imagined running away, until finally she did. She reunited with my mom in North Korea when she was 20.
But not everything went as hoped. Though she was happy to be together with our family again, it turned out life was just as hard in North Korea. In the end, my sister returned to her daughter in China just a few years later.
It had been years since we last saw my sister, and it was my first time meeting her daughter, my niece. We were the same age. For a month, we all enjoyed the bittersweet reunion. Then my sister connected us with another broker, and my mom and I finally escaped for good.
We eventually reached South Korea and it turns out, it wasn’t the dangerous country I had seen in movies.
Still, the memories of everything we had been through tormented me. I was angry at the old man who pressured us into his escape plan. I hated that my mom chose such a risky job in the first place.
Later we found out my oldest sister had been tortured by North Korean authorities when we left, leaving her devastated by mental illness. They wanted her to confess that our family had helped the old man escape. Someone had to take the blame. My older sister, who was once strong and reliable, would never be the same again.
When I first reached South Korea, I hid my past. Everything was terrifying and different—the culture, the lifestyle, and even the language. My new friends would hang out at internet cafes and I didn’t even know how to use a computer.
But I started learning. I studied hard in school and got a job to support myself. I began reading books to develop my own philosophy for my new life. I even started playing video games and for better or for worse, became just as obsessed as everyone else.
When I got to high school, I finally told my friends the truth about my life. Their response was so different from what I had expected. I found that rather than being cruel, they were curious. I realized the importance of my story, and how sharing my family’s painful experiences could change people’s perspectives about North Korea.
In 2019, at the end of high school, I met someone from Liberty in North Korea. I was so curious how she spoke about North Korea. She invited me to attend their Changemakers Summit and I had never experienced anything like that before—South Koreans, North Koreans, and even foreigners who were all young, open-minded, and interested in how to make an impact on this issue.
Truthfully, I never saw myself as an activist. I didn’t think I had what it takes.
But if I could change how just one person saw North Korea—to see the people and their resilience, bravery, and hope instead of the regime—I realized I was already acting as an advocate.
These days, I’m working and studying full time. After coming to South Korea my mom got her masters degree and is now writing a book about her life. My middle sister eventually escaped and joined us in South Korea too. She got remarried and finally gets to live a normal life. Even though we’re all pursuing different things, we’re still together, holding tightly to the hope that we will someday reunite with my older sister.
Today, I can be my own person. I can buy fresh fruit whenever I want, or walk along the Han river anytime. After all of the running and all of the pain, I am finally free to choose my own life.
Harry’s story echoes that of many North Korean refugees, who live with the weight of their past while grasping onto hope for the future. After what happened to his oldest sister, Harry says he has nothing left to lose. That’s why he chooses to speak openly about the horrific things he and his family have experienced, hoping to bring change and one day reunite with her in a free North Korea.
Help us continue to to sustain refugee rescues, empowerment programs, and efforts to change the way the world sees North Korea.
