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.
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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.
The Most Dangerous Contraband in North Korea Isn’t a Weapon. It’s a Wish.
By: Jihyun Kang
Growing up in North Korea, Jihyun took inspiration from the smuggled South Korean dramas she watched to create her own unique clothing. After reaching freedom in 2010, she has continued to pursue her interests in fashion and culture as a catalyst for change. She runs several business ventures, practices fine art under the name “Da Gyeol,” and works with the Ministry of Unification as an advisor. She’s pursuing her Masters in Entrepreneurship, Dept. of Future Science & Technology Business, at Korea University.
I grew up in North Korea, and at fifteen, I encountered a Westerner for the first time at the top of Mount Paektu. He stood over 190 centimeters tall with a thick beard, wearing ripped jeans and a frayed T-shirt. In North Korea, worn-out clothing was a symbol of deprivation. Yet my father whispered, "He is wearing that for style." With that single remark, the worldview I had been taught, began, the first time, to crack. And I thought: I want to dress like that, too.
Fashion is more than clothing. It is the moment when individual desire moves faster than collective command. People follow taste before ideology, and express themselves through what they wear long before any political declaration.
A state can enforce a dress code, but it cannot manufacture desire. That is why North Korea's fear of blue jeans was not irrational—it was the regime recognizing, however dimly, that something it could not control was already growing.
Clayton Christensen, a professor at Harvard Business School, argued that transformation always begins at the margins—in forms so crude and insignificant that those in power dismiss them entirely. Christensen built his theory around corporations, but the logic applies to any system that holds a monopoly over its people, including a state. North Korea's regime was so focused on maintaining ideological control at the centre that it ignored what was happening at the bottom.
That bottom was the jangmadang—the spontaneous, bottom-up market ecosystem created by ordinary people to survive after the collapse of North Korea's state-led distribution system. When that system imploded during the Arduous March—a famine in the mid-1990s that killed hundreds of thousands—people built informal markets out of sheer necessity: not revolution, not ideology, but survival. Yet by 2018, a CSIS study found 436 officially recognized markets operating across the country. What began as a desperate improvisation had quietly become the infrastructure keeping North Koreans alive.
These markets did not merely sell food. They became conduits for Chinese clothing, USB drives loaded with South Korean dramas, and glimpses of a world no one had taught them existed. When a system ignores what people actually want, the market finds the gap.
The act of choosing—what to eat, what to wear, what to watch—may seem trivial. But a person who has tasted choice cannot fully return to obedience.
The jangmadang was the first place where North Koreans learned they could survive without the state. That desire did not stay underground—it surfaced. People began wearing jeans, dyeing their hair, and pulling on T-shirts printed with foreign letters. The regime could no longer ignore it. Authorities branded jeans and Western fashion as 'anti-socialist infiltrations' and deployed street patrols. Teenagers caught in these sweeps were sent to re-education camps; in severe cases, their names and home addresses were read aloud on state broadcasts as public shaming (Radio Free Asia).
In 2024, state-run Korean Central Television went so far as to blur the jeans worn by British TV presenter Alan Titchmarsh during a broadcast. The ruling party's official newspaper, the Rodong Sinmun, warned that a country could 'become vulnerable and eventually collapse like a damp wall' if it failed to preserve its own way of life (Newsweek, May 2021).
Regulations cannot extinguish human desire; they only raise the price of the forbidden. This is the inflection point Christensen identified: by the time an incumbent recognizes the threat, it is already too late.
To date, more than 34,000 North Koreans have resettled in South Korea (South Korean Ministry of Unification, 2024). At the start of each of those journeys, there was something like my pair of jeans—not ideology, but desire; not a declaration, but a taste; not revolution, but the market.
No government in history has ever successfully suppressed the human impulse to trade, to choose, to want more. Not the Soviet Union. Not Cuba. Not Mao's China. North Korea will not be the exception.
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Jihyun 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.
