The DMZ and North Korea
What Is the DMZ?
The Korean Demilitarized Zone (DMZ) is a strip of land running 160 miles (250km) across the Korean Peninsula that serves as a buffer zone between North Korea and South Korea. It passes just 30 miles north of Seoul but is one of the most heavily guarded borders in the world. It divides the Korean Peninsula approximately in half roughly near the original border at 38°N (the 38th parallel), the line that divided North and South Korea at the end of World War II. The Demilitarized Zone incorporates territory on both sides of the cease-fire line as it existed at the end of the Korean War (1950-1953), and was created by pulling back the respective forces 1.2 miles along each side of the line.
The armistice that ended hostilities was signed here in 1953, but, as an official peace treaty was never signed, the two sides have officially been at war for over seven decades.
A Brief History of the DMZ
With Japan’s surrender to the Allies ending World War II in 1945, Korea gained its independence after 35 years of colonization by Japan. The United States and the Soviet Union agreed to a joint temporary occupation of the Korean Peninsula with the US administering the southern part and the USSR administering the northern part.
The zones were split at the 38th parallel, an arbitrary line on the map chosen because it divided the country roughly in half. The division and international administration was supposed to be temporary until Koreans were considered ready to govern by themselves, but with the onset of the Cold War and growing suspicion between the US and USSR the two sides failed to come to an agreement that could establish a unified Korean government and state.
Instead the Republic of Korea (ROK), supported by the United States, was established in 1948 in the south while the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea, supported by the Soviet Union, was established soon after in the north, with both sides claiming sovereignty over the whole peninsula.
On June 25th, 1950, the new North Korean Army invaded across the 38th parallel in an attempt to quickly reunify the Korean peninsula by force. They nearly succeeded, but US-led international intervention changed the course of the war. The conflict devastated the Korean peninsula for three years and killed three million people. After the conflict reached a stalemate close to the 38th parallel, the Korean Armistice Agreement was signed on July 27th, 1953 between the United Nations Command, North Korea, and China to establish a ceasefire.
Each side agreed to move their troops back 2,000m (1.24 miles) from the front line to create a demilitarized zone, establishing a 2.5 mile wide buffer with established rules of conduct. The Military Demarcation Line (MDL) runs through the middle of the DMZ and indicates where the front was when the agreement was signed.
More than seven decades later, both sides still stand guard on either side of the DMZ, two large armies on constant alert for potential aggression from the other side. The arbitrary division that in 1945 everyone thought would be temporary has ended up with one of the most impermeable borders in human history.
The Security Status at the DMZ
The border between North and South Korea is one of the most heavily guarded stretches of land in the world. The DMZ, littered with scores of mines and barbed-wire fences, is almost impossible to cross, except at the Joint Security Area (JSA). The JSA is a special zone inside what is known as the "truce village" of Panmunjom, about 35 miles north of Seoul. Every year, when it is open to tourists, thousands of people visit the JSA for a chance to see North Korean soldiers standing at attention just dozens of feet away and to officially step into North Korean territory inside a United Nations Command administered conference room that straddles the military border.
A visit there feels like military theater, with stern warnings from the South Korean soldiers under United Nations Command not to make gestures at their counterparts. Since demarcation, the DMZ has had numerous incidents and incursions by both sides, although the North Korean government typically doesn’t acknowledge direct responsibility for any of these incidents.
Human Rights and Repression in North Korea
North Korea is one of the world's most repressive states. The government restricts all civil and political liberties for its citizens, including freedom of expression, assembly, association, and religion. It prohibits all organized political opposition, independent media, civil society, and trade unions. The government routinely uses arbitrary arrest and punishment, torture in custody, forced labor, and executions to maintain fear and control across the country. Beyond the DMZ, North Korea is a highly controlled country where human rights are routinely violated.
The international community has continued to press the North Korean government to expand its engagement with United Nations human rights mechanisms, including action on findings of the UN Commission of Inquiry (COI). The COI report shows that the country has committed crimes against humanity including extermination, murder, enslavement, imprisonment, rape, sexual violence, forced abortion, and other heinous crimes. The citizens of North Korea require a lot of help and support from the international community in order to attain a better life.
The North Korean people face a brutal and repressive government that isolates them from the world and denies their most basic human rights. But you can help to create change. At Liberty in North Korea (LiNK), we help North Korean refugees escape through a 3,000-mile secret rescue route and empower North Koreans who have reached freedom to be changemakers, advocates, and leaders on this issue.
You can help make a difference in the lives of North Korean citizens by learning more about our organization, raising funds, advocating for the people of North Korea, starting a rescue team, or making a donation today!
A North Korean’s Promise to his Father | Joseph’s Story: Part 1
Most of you may know me as Joseph, but my Korean name is Kim Kwang Jin. It means, “walking forward with brightness.” My father gave me this name, full of the hopes and expectations many fathers have for their sons.
But hope is a hard thing to have, especially in a country like North Korea, and as a child, I certainly didn’t make it any easier for my father to believe in my brightness. Even in elementary school, I was a poor student.
The first time I remember making my father proud was through my cooking, not from studying. That day, he and my older sister had gone to the mountains to collect firewood. It was getting close to midnight, but they still hadn’t come home, so I decided to make dinner for them—rice and kimchi soup. At the end of dinner, my father said, Son, this is the best rice I’ve ever had. I had never made rice before, and I knew it was undercooked. That night I realized how much my father loves me. I promised myself that next time I would make him better rice.
But next time never came. When I was 12, my father died of starvation.
To save us from the same fate, my mother and sister left for China in search of work and food. My mom ended up in a North Korean prison. But my sister never returned. Within one year, I had lost my entire family. I was alone—helpless, homeless, and orphaned on the streets.
After three years of barely surviving, I decided to escape. The journey would be risky, but staying in North Korea would be a risk too. I knew I could die of starvation. So I took a chance. Unlike most people, I decided to escape during the daytime, thinking that the border guards would become complacent because why would anyone be crazy enough to cross the border in the middle of the day with nowhere to hide?
Fortunately, I made it to China without being caught.
In China, I slept in the mountains and went to towns begging for food to survive. One day, while crossing a bridge in Yanji, I remember it started to snow. Everyone around me started walking fast.
I remember being so envious because walking fast must have meant they had a home they were rushing toward. I, too, wanted to walk fast, but I had no home and no one waiting for me.
Later on, I was lucky enough to be taken in by a halmoni, an older grandmother. She fed me and let me live with her for six months but I still lived in hiding, fearful that at any moment I could be arrested and sent back to North Korea. The halmoni eventually connected me with Liberty in North Korea and I had an opportunity to escape China and be the first North Korean refugee minor to come to the United States.
I was placed with a foster family and began attending an American high school, which felt a bit ridiculous at first. Even in North Korea, I was an F student. I barely finished elementary school so jumping straight into high school in a foreign country felt overwhelming.
One evening, my foster mom made chicken wings. They were so good that I wanted more, but I realized there wasn’t enough for everyone to have seconds. So I held back, thinking no one would notice. As I stared at my plate, my foster dad placed his last wing in front of me. I looked up, and he smiled, urging me to eat without saying a word. In that silence, I felt the depth of his love and care.
At that moment, I thought of my biological father. Even during our hardest times, he used to share what little food he had with me. I wished more than anything that I could cook for him one last time and share one more meal together.
That night, I promised myself that I would study hard and go to college. I believed that was the best way to honor my father’s sacrifice and make him proud.
Continue reading part 2 of Joseph’s story
Years before Joseph would reach freedom, talk on the TED stage, write a memoir, and pursue his master’s at Harvard Kennedy School, Joseph’s father saw the brightness in his son. While he may not have been able to witness Joseph reach these milestones, none of it would have been possible without the depth of his love that became the foundation for Joseph’s life.
His family’s support, both in North Korea and in the US, has given Joseph the confidence to believe in and fulfill his brightness.
When recalling his past, warm childhood memories and gripping hardship are shared in the same breath. Joseph often says that North Korea is not a land of darkness, merely a land with darkness. Both can exist. But what matters is what we choose to focus on—the shadow cast by the regime or the brightness of the North Korean people.
Help more North Korean refugees reach freedom and share their brightness with the world.
