South Korea's Future: Lessons Learned from History
In the 1990s, the world witnessed one of the most devastating humanitarian crises in East Asia—the collapse of North Korea’s economy and the onset of a famine so vast, it would claim as many as 2 million lives. Known in official rhetoric as the “Arduous March” (고난의 행군), this period revealed the fragility of the regime beneath its monuments and slogans. It was a time of darkness, where ideology met reality—and millions paid the price.
On July 8, 1994, Kim Il-sung died of a heart attack. Though his son, Kim Jong-il, had already been groomed as successor, the nation plunged into mourning and uncertainty. State propaganda framed the event as a cosmic catastrophe; citizens wept in orchestrated parades of grief. But beneath the surface, the regime’s carefully controlled system began to falter.
The collapse of the Soviet Union in 1991 was a death blow to North Korea’s economy. Soviet aid, oil, and trade subsidies had sustained the DPRK’s industries. Suddenly, imports dried up. Without oil, tractors stopped running. Factories powered down. Fertilizer and machinery became scarce. The rigid command economy could not adapt.
Floods in 1995 and 1996 destroyed crops and infrastructure, worsening the crisis. North Korea, heavily reliant on centralized distribution, could not provide food to its population. The Public Distribution System (PDS) failed. People starved in cities and villages alike.
Eyewitness accounts describe the slow unraveling of society. People boiled tree bark and grass for soup. Children wandered in search of scraps. Entire families died in silence, their neighbors too afraid or powerless to help. Some resorted to desperate acts—barter, theft, even cannibalism in isolated regions. Trains stopped running. Schools closed. The streets emptied into quiet, eerie stillness.
Defections increased, despite the mortal risks. Border towns near China became gateways for survival—and stories.
At first, North Korea denied the severity of the crisis. But by 1995, the regime allowed foreign aid groups, including the UN’s World Food Programme, to deliver food. South Korea, the U.S., and even Japan sent emergency supplies. However, aid distribution was tightly controlled by the regime, and much of it was diverted to the military or elites.
Despite global efforts, the death toll was staggering. Estimates range from 600,000 to over 2 million. The true number may never be known—only the scars remain.
As the PDS collapsed, North Koreans began turning to jangmadang—informal markets—to survive. Women played a central role, trading goods, smuggling items from China, and keeping families alive through quiet entrepreneurship. These markets, though technically illegal, were tolerated by local officials who also needed to survive.
The jangmadang became more than a coping mechanism—they planted the seeds of a shadow economy and a new kind of autonomy within the authoritarian system.
Despite the crisis, Kim Jong-il solidified control. He blamed natural disasters and foreign hostility for the hardships. His “Military First” policy (선군정치) prioritized army loyalty, ensuring regime survival over civilian welfare. Political purges continued. Fear kept order, even as hunger thinned the population.
The famine fundamentally changed North Korea. It exposed the state’s inability to care for its people. It also eroded ideological purity, as survival required breaking rules. The rise of markets, the growth of corruption, and the fraying of absolute control laid the groundwork for future change—even within stagnation.
For survivors, the Arduous March is not a slogan—it is a wound. One carried in memory, whispered in stories, and buried in unmarked graves. The world looked in, and for a moment, the walls of isolation cracked. But they would soon be rebuilt—higher than ever.
Coming up next: Two Koreas, two destinies—how the North doubled down on control while the South soared into global democracy and culture.