The bench at the Fontana dell’Acqua Paola overlooking Rome on a pleasant day might have been more enjoyable if Inspector O hadn’t been brooding.

“Cheer up, for heaven’s sake, Inspector.” I offered him a potato chip. “Once we’re done here, you can roam around the city, soak up its delights.”

“I’m busy, Church, not like you. I have boxes to check, things to do, goals to score.”

“Well, get to it, then. You told me to be here. I’m here. And I’m not going to let you spoil the day.”

He sighed. “You have no concept of life’s purpose, you just dance without thinking of what awaits you.”

“What awaits me is a good lunch, a stroll down the Via del Corso…”

“You and your strolls, Church, are the problem. Have you watched your reptile news recently?”

“I have. I saw nothing to destroy my cheery demeanor and hope for humanity.”

O stared at me. “OK, look at this.”

It was a transcript of what at first glance looked to be a Politburo meeting in Pyongyang. I shrugged to give myself time to think. “Yes, well, it is good to be the king,” I said.

“No, I know what you’re thinking, Church. This isn’t a Politburo meeting in Pyongyang.”

I searched his face. I must have paled. “No,” I said, “couldn’t be.”

“Yes, it could be, and it was. We are shamefaced to have fallen behind. We did a practice run trying to exceed it. We couldn’t. Do you people have a swamp gas machine?  We noticed that your Treasury Secretary was reading from a piece of paper. Do you ask AI to make you as nauseous as possible?”

“Now, wait a minute, Inspector.”

“No, you wait a minute. We did have a Politburo meeting, and they did try to best your Cabinet. We did some role playing. I think it was our Secretary for Propaganda who wanted to play your Commerce Secretary. When he finished reading his lines, the room was silent, then people fell out of their chairs laughing. The chairman needed help getting up.”

“He wasn’t angry?”

“Are you kidding, he said he hadn’t enjoyed anything that much since…well…never mind what he said.”

“So why are you in such a funk?”

“Because I’ve been told to get the specifications for the swamp gas machine you obviously have in DC. Our arch is already taller than the one you’re planning to build but superlatives? We can’t even come close.”

“That’s hard to believe.”

“Be that as it may, Church, be that as it may. We see a superlative gap, and we need to fill it quickly or there will be hell to pay.” He looked at his watch. “Oh lord have mercy. I’m late for my meeting with the Pope.”

“You are meeting the Pope?”

He was up and running. “In a manner of speaking, strictly on the QP.”

“QT,” I shouted, but he was already in a taxi heading down the hill.

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More often than not, the outside world dismisses North Korean digital education as technologically backward or merely propagandistic. Yet a close review of North Korean policy documents, educational publications, and other primary sources reveals something more substantial: a functional, state-directed educational infrastructure tied to workforce development and scientific training under centralized state management.

North Korea’s online education—or “distance education” (원격교육), as it is officially termed—did not emerge overnight. Over more than two decades, it has developed into a key component of the regime’s broader effort to modernize technical training and expand scientific and technological (S&T) capacity under centralized control.

The system’s operational capabilities became particularly visible during the COVID-19 pandemic, when North Korea rapidly deployed real-time distance learning programs to retrain healthcare workers and epidemic prevention personnel.[1] The scale and sophistication of these efforts challenge common portrayals of North Korea as technologically stagnant or incapable of implementing complex digital systems.

More recently, North Korea has expanded the role of distance education as part of its broader national modernization strategy. In support of the “20×10 Regional Development Policy,” introduced in January 2024, distance education programs have been used to build a technically skilled workforce for newly established regional factories,[2] reflecting the state’s longer-term effort to construct a nationwide S&T information and knowledge-dissemination network.

This article traces the evolution of North Korea’s distance education system from the Kim Il Sung era to the present, examining how it developed from a limited correspondence-based model into a nationwide digital education network under Kim Jong Un. In doing so, it argues that North Korea’s distance education system should be understood not simply as an educational initiative, but as part of a broader state-led effort to manage workforce development, expand scientific and technological capacity, and integrate digital technologies into centralized systems of governance and national development.

Distance Education: Historical Trajectory

North Korea’s distance education system has evolved through distinct stages, each shaped by changes in leadership, policy priorities, and national strategy—from its early analog origins under Kim Il Sung to its institutional consolidation under Kim Jong Un. The evolution of the system reveals the complex interplay among education, governance, and national development, as well as the emergence of an evolving—though tightly controlled—system of knowledge production and dissemination.

Phase 1: Emergence (Kim Il Sung’s Study-While-Working System–2011)

The origins of distance education in North Korea date back to the early post-liberation period, beginning with correspondence education programs designed to train teachers and adult workers.[3] Under Kim Il Sung, this system evolved into a full-fledged study-while-working educational model, particularly after the 1960s, when factory colleges and workplace-based training programs became institutionalized. Students attended night or correspondence classes while remaining embedded in production units, allowing the state to expand access to higher education without disrupting labor output.

During the 1970s and 1980s, the state introduced broadcast education via radio and television, complementing correspondence methods with ideological and technical instruction.[4] Although not yet digital, these early initiatives laid the groundwork for scalable forms of remotely delivered education. North Korea experimented with combining audiovisual broadcasts, telephone-based discussions, and written feedback mechanisms to simulate interactive learning.

During the 1990s, amid a nationwide economic crisis, informatization became a growing state priority. Early computerization efforts in the education sector focused primarily on elite institutions and the identification of S&T prodigies.[5] A major shift occurred in the 2000s, when Kim Jong Il’s emphasis on the “Information Industry Era” led to pilot initiatives in digital learning. Another turning point came in 2006, when Kim Chaek University of Technology opened an electronic library and initiated the development of a distance learning platform.[6] This system enabled university lectures to be delivered through a national intranet, expanding access for factory colleges and research institutes.

By 2010–2011, North Korea had established an initial nationwide network of electronic libraries, launched pilot distance education programs at major universities, and elevated Kim Chaek University’s Distance Education Center into a full College of Distance Education.[7] This marked the institutional recognition of digital distance education as part of the formal higher education system. A public-access model, centered around the Grand People’s Study House and provincial libraries, also began delivering technical content through distance lectures, further supporting nationwide S&T education and workforce training.[8] This phase illustrates how distance education evolved from analog correspondence models into a blended system incorporating digital tools into North Korea’s longstanding framework of workplace-based adult learning.

Phase 2: Establishment (2012–2016)

Following Kim Jong Un’s rise to power, digital distance education was formally elevated to a national policy priority. Building on earlier infrastructure and experimentation, the new leadership promoted digital distance education as a key component of North Korea’s “industrial revolution in the new century” and broader S&T-driven development strategy.

This phase was characterized by rapid policy expansion and institutional scaling. In 2013 Kim Jong Un launched the initiative to “make all the people well-versed in S&T,” positioning digital distance education as a central mechanism for expanding technical education across multiple sectors.[9] Distance education was no longer confined to elite institutions; instead, it expanded across universities, industrial sites, and public learning facilities.

A major milestone during this period was the development of a model learning management system (LMS) at Kim Chaek University of Technology.[10] The system reportedly supported real-time and recorded lectures, automated assessment and evaluation functions, and the tracking of student performance and participation. Although state media presented these systems as nationwide achievements, the actual quality and accessibility of digital infrastructure likely varied considerably across regions and institutions. The system subsequently emerged as an important prototype for the broader expansion of digital distance education to universities, workplace-based colleges, and technical training facilities across the country.

Between 2014 and 2016, the state undertook a broad consolidation of educational infrastructure, including:

• The unification and integration of universities under the banner of the “educational revolution in the new century,” a process intended in part to standardize curricula, centralize educational management, and facilitate the wider expansion of digital distance education networks across institutions[11];
• The rapid expansion of S&T Dissemination Rooms (workplace computer rooms)[12] and Miraewon public library facilities connected to the national information network[13]; and
• The construction and operationalization of the Sci-Tech Complex, inaugurated in 2016 as North Korea’s largest digital knowledge and e-learning hub, as the national center for S&T dissemination and lifelong technical learning.[14]

These developments culminated in the Seventh Party Congress of 2016, where digital distance education was officially recognized as a cornerstone of North Korea’s educational modernization strategy.[15] This phase marked a decisive transition from experimentation to institutional system-building, as digital education became increasingly scaled, regulated, and integrated into national administrative structures.

Phase 3: Maturation and Applications (2017–Present)

The third phase marks the maturation and functional diversification of digital distance education in North Korea. Following its institutional consolidation, the state focused on expanding practical applications, strengthening digital infrastructure, and refining monitoring systems.

In 2020, the Distance Education Act was enacted, providing legislative backing for the country’s digital distance education system.[16] The law aimed to standardize operational procedures, expand institutional accountability, and further integrate educational planning with broader state development objectives.

This period also saw the institutional consolidation of S&T Dissemination Rooms and the strengthening of the Sci-Tech Complex as the central hub for technical knowledge dissemination. The Grand People’s Study House continued coordinating digital education activities nationwide, while provincial libraries and electronic learning facilities received additional investment and technical support.

Importantly, digital distance education evolved into a multipurpose educational platform serving a broad range of state-directed objectives beyond university instruction. These included:

• teacher retraining and certification,[17]
• technical upskilling of technocrats[18] and economic cadres,[19] and
• public health education, particularly for epidemic prevention during COVID-19.[20]

Technological upgrades during this phase included expanded LMS capabilities, real-time interactivity, AI-based feedback systems, and personalized content delivery.[21] These developments were intended to improve the efficiency and flexibility of digital education while allowing the state to respond to sector-specific needs without weakening ideological oversight.

This phase demonstrates how digital distance education evolved into a comprehensive instrument of workforce modernization, technical dissemination, and state administration. The system has become a normalized component of North Korea’s educational ecosystem, integrated across institutions and sectors.

A Uniquely North Korean Digital Distance Education Model

Digital distance education in North Korea has evolved into a structured and institutionalized system aligned with the state’s broader modernization strategy. Across its three historical phases—emergence, establishment, and maturation—the system has reflected North Korea’s sustained effort to expand technical capacity and workforce training while maintaining centralized political authority.

The development of digital distance education has been neither ad hoc nor merely symbolic. Rather, it has followed a deliberate trajectory shaped by state policy priorities, ideological imperatives, and technological adaptation. Each phase—from Kim Il Sung’s study-while-working model, through Kim Jong Il’s early digital experimentation, to Kim Jong Un’s nationwide expansion efforts—has involved institutional coordination and long-term planning.

This trajectory illustrates the regime’s ability to incorporate technological change into centralized administrative structures without loosening political oversight. While the adoption of LMS platforms, AI-assisted learning systems, and real-time lecture technologies may resemble educational practices elsewhere, their function within North Korea differs significantly. These technologies are not primarily designed to promote student autonomy or pedagogical liberalization. Rather, they are intended to improve workforce training efficiency, standardize instruction, strengthen monitoring mechanisms, and reinforce ideological conformity.

Digital distance education has also evolved into a multifunctional state instrument extending beyond higher education. Its applications include lifelong education programs, workforce retraining initiatives, and public health instruction during crises such as the COVID-19 pandemic. By embedding educational programs into workplaces, production sites, and regional study hubs, the state has expanded the reach of digital learning while maintaining centralized oversight of labor and knowledge dissemination.

Importantly, digital distance education plays a major role in the dissemination of S&T knowledge. Institutions such as the Sci-Tech Complex, People’s Study Houses, S&T Dissemination Rooms, and Miraewon function not only as educational venues but also as mechanisms supporting Kim Jong Un’s initiative to “make all the people well-versed in S&T.” In this sense, digital distance education has become closely connected to broader workforce modernization and technical capacity-building efforts.

Digital distance education has now become a normalized component of North Korea’s national education system. What began as an experimental initiative has evolved into a legally recognized and administratively institutionalized mode of instruction supported by state regulations and nationwide implementation strategies.

At the same time, the system remains constrained by North Korea’s uneven technological environment. Limited personal computer ownership, unstable electricity supplies in some regions, and disparities in network accessibility continue to shape how digital education is experienced in practice, particularly outside Pyongyang and major institutional centers.

More broadly, the North Korean case challenges conventional assumptions that digital education necessarily promotes openness, decentralization, or liberalization. Instead, it demonstrates how digital technologies can be incorporated into a centralized system of workforce training, technical knowledge dissemination, and state-led modernization. In North Korea, digital transformation has reinforced—rather than weakened—centralized governance and ideological control.

Conclusion

North Korea’s digital distance education system should not be viewed merely as an educational initiative. It increasingly functions as part of a broader state infrastructure for workforce management, technical dissemination, and administrative control. Policymakers and researchers should therefore analyze digital education alongside other components of North Korea’s evolving information and governance architecture.

The expansion of learning management systems, digital monitoring tools, and networked educational platforms also suggests that North Korea’s technological modernization efforts extend beyond military and surveillance sectors. Educational technologies may play an important role in strengthening state resilience, improving technical training, and supporting long-term economic adaptation under sanctions conditions. By expanding technical education and workforce retraining without requiring large-scale overseas engagement, digital distance education may also help the regime mitigate some of the structural constraints imposed by international isolation and resource scarcity.

At the same time, significant infrastructural disparities likely continue to constrain implementation outside major urban centers. Future research should therefore focus not only on official technological capabilities but also on regional inequalities in electricity supply, network access, and device availability.

Finally, the North Korean case challenges assumptions that digital connectivity necessarily leads to political openness or decentralization. Instead, it demonstrates how authoritarian systems can adapt digital technologies to strengthen state capacity while pursuing selective forms of modernization.

This paper is based on Yonho Kim’s dissertation, “The Historical Trajectory of Digital Distance Education in North Korea: A Tool for Knowledge-Based Economy and National Development.” Preliminary research for this project was supported by the Institute for Far Eastern Studies at Kyungnam University.*

The post Building a State-Controlled Knowledge Infrastructure: The Evolution of Distance Education in North Korea appeared first on 38 North.

Introduction: An Underexamined Risk?

North Korea’s nuclear and missile programs dominate headlines, but another potential WMD risk receives far less sustained scrutiny: chemical weapons (CW). Many governments assess that Pyongyang maintains a CW capability, yet open-source analysis of this area has lagged significantly behind attention to its nuclear program.

In operational terms, chemical weapons could offer North Korea distinct advantages. Even the credible threat of use could slow advancing forces, forcing troops into protective equipment that degrades mobility, endurance, and communication. This creates a plausible role for CW as a coercive or last-resort tool, particularly in scenarios where regime survival is at stake.

North Korea has also demonstrated a willingness to use chemical agents. The 2017 assassination of Kim Jong-Nam using VX in Kuala Lumpur highlighted both capability and intent in a high-profile context.

A further complication is institutional: North Korea is not a party to the Chemical Weapons Convention (CWC). As a result, it is not subject to routine declarations or inspections, leaving analysts reliant on indirect indicators and open-source triangulation.

Project Anthracite: An OSINT Approach to a “Hard Target”

To help narrow this gap, Project Anthracite uses satellite imagery and other open-source tools to build a networked view of North Korea’s chemical industry and assess if it could plausibly support a CW program. It starts from a basic (and historically consistent) premise: that CW programs are not built in isolation but rely on established chemical industry for support in terms of feedstocks, bulk intermediates, specialty reagents, corrosion-resistant plant, and a trained workforce capable of running processes reliably.

Project Anthracite ultimately assessed that North Korea’s raw materials and basic industrial technology strongly support the premise that North Korea could produce simpler agents, such as sulfur mustard, while more complex nerve-agent pathways typically demand additional capabilities that may be less visible in open sources.

This article builds on that baseline by looking at one OSINT stream that is easy to overlook but can be surprisingly informative: domestic technical literature such as patents and science/engineering journals.

The previously-published raw-materials mapping, which identified chemicals and industrial processes of most relevance for CW feasibility, was used as a framework upon which to assess the relevance of patents or published articles. Specifically, we were looking for indicators of competence in niche areas of chemistry which could support a CW program, indicators of research to optimize industrial process important for the production of precursor chemicals and other feedstocks required for a CW program as well as indicators of existing industrial plant and other capabilities that could support a CW program. Sources of the patents and articles were:

• A large dataset of over 30,000 machine-translated North Korean patents, used to triage signs of dual-use chemicals, processes and facilities.

• Translated North Korean journal articles, including Hwahak-kwa Hwahak Konghak (Chemistry and Chemical Engineering) and the Kim Il Sung Chonghap Taehak Hakpo: Hwahak (Journal of Kim Il Sung University: Chemistry), which 38 North has documented as part of its broader work cataloguing North Korean science and technology journals.

A Practical Lens: “Industrial Plausibility,” not “Smoking Guns”

A mistake that analysts sometimes make is to treat CW capabilities as a binary (“they can” vs. “they cannot”). In reality, sustained CW production, especially at militarily significant scales, depends on multiple factors: feedstocks, building-block chemical production processes (most notably chlorine-related chemistry), corrosion-resistant equipment, and trained personnel. Industrial sites, such as the Namhung Youth Chemical Complex, which has been previously associated with a potential CW program, includes a coal-gasification plant, which can turn anthracite coal into useful upstream precursors such as ethylene.

That is why patents and journals are useful: they often reveal what a technical community is trying to do in practice, what problems they are solving, what reagents they claim to handle, and whether they are working at the level of “one-off synthesis” or looking to optimize and improve existing processes.

But they also have limitations. Patents can be aspirational, filed for bureaucratic credit, or never implemented. Journals can be selective or shaped by political incentives. The right way to use them is as signposts: they help us identify where capabilities are plausible, where they appear thin, and where we need to use future OSINT efforts to look harder.

This approach is particularly relevant for North Korea because CWC transparency tools do not apply; they sit outside the international verification regime and are under no obligation to declare dual-use production.

Sulfur Mustard: Why it Sits at the Center of Feasibility Assessments

Of the classical CW agents, sulfur mustard has been the focus of many of our discussions. It is a particularly insidious chemical weapon that causes severe injuries and long-term harm, but the industrial requirements are significantly less demanding than other classical CW like nerve agents. Despite being a chemical weapon associated with the First World War, there are still examples of its recent use. Indeed, the chemical industry and the raw materials that North Korea has at its disposal could support the production of sulfur mustard, and this is also supported by North Korean patents and scientific literature.

Two Useful “Capability Indicators” From North Korean Journals

Production of sulfur mustard is reliant on access to precursors; two such precursors are 2-chloroethanol and sodium sulfide, which are not controlled under the CWC’s Annex on Chemicals, but are included on the Australia Group precursor control list.

Synthesis of 2-chloroethanol was documented in many journal articles. One particularly good example is a 2018 paper in Hwahak-kwa Hwahak Konghak titled “Synthesis of 2-Chloroethanol From Ethylene Glycol” which frames 2-chloroethanol (ethylene chlorohydrin) as a legitimate industrial intermediate and reports applied work focused on improving conditions and yield and infers existing capability to produce 2-chloroethanol on an industrial scale.[1]

Synthesis of sodium sulfide was also documented in many journal articles, with one particularly good example being a 2024 paper in the Kim Il Sung Chonghap Taehak Hakpo: Hwahak titled “Preparation of Sodium Sulfide from Barite and Makite.” The paper describes a process-oriented method for producing sodium sulfide from mineral raw materials and discusses optimization to improve yield and recovery.[2]

Again, neither paper “proves” prohibited activity. Their value is that they add texture to the feasibility picture: they show applied research on production of dual-use chemicals on an industrial scale and are consistent with the type of capabilities their chemical industry would need to sustain downstream processing and production chains.

Other Indicators: Phosphorus Chemistry, Pharmaceuticals, and Pesticides

Beyond sulfur mustard, several translated journal articles provide supporting context for technical competence in adjacent domains. These should be treated as “in passing” indicators, which included:

• A 2022 paper on the synthesis of PMIDA (herbicide intermediate) referenced industrial-grade phosphorus trichloride (PCl₃) and reports yield-focused process optimization.[3]
• A 2021 paper on adefovir (antiviral drug) describes pharmaceutical synthesis optimization and purification work consistent with fine-chemical capability.[4]
• A 2022 paper on fenitrothion (insecticide) describes synthetic methodology consistent with competence in organophosphorus chemistry, which underpins most CW chemistry.[5]
• A 2021 paper framed around flame-retardant chemistry reports synthesis and process considerations for organophosphates production, an additional indicator of organophosphorus chemistry competence.[6]

Individually, these are not decisive. Collectively, they suggest pockets of specialist scientific and technical competence in areas which could also support a CW program.

Patent Screening: What the Large Dataset Shows (and Does Not)

Project Anthracite’s patent screening examined more than 30,000 North Korean patents to identify those relevant to capabilities that could support a CW program. We were clear from the outset about the limitation of patents: the dataset likely represented an unclassified snapshot whilst prominent North Korea experts assessed that a classified patent corpus likely exists and would be more relevant to sensitive or dual-use capabilities.

Only about 1.1% of patents were judged to have any relevance. The vast majority focused on recycling and agrarian technology, patterns consistent with the juche principle.

The screening did identify patents that signal capability in important areas such as corrosive/reactive chemical handling. Notably, multiple relevant patents were associated with the Heungnam Pharmaceutical Factory which implies that it is a highly capable plant able to handle highly corrosive materials. This would suggest a corrosion-resistant plant suitable for more complex chemical synthesis, which would mean higher levels of competence. The facility is worthy of closer scrutiny.

The value of this kind of screening is practical: it helps analysts prioritize sites, chemicals, and competencies for deeper OSINT follow-up, rather than trying to infer everything from a single indicator.

Conclusion

This article does not claim to prove CW production. Project Anthracite’s raw-materials mapping is explicit in this regard: it cannot determine whether North Korea is producing CW agents but instead provides a feasibility baseline and identifies indicators worth monitoring. Patents and journals also do not resolve intent: patents can be aspirational, journals can be selective, and sensitive work may sit in classified reports.

But capability matters even without confirmed intent, especially when North Korea is outside the CWC’s verification regime and when CW can provide coercive operational effects not to mention indiscriminate harm and suffering to civilian populations.

North Korea’s CW risk deserves more sustained attention than it typically receives. CW is uniquely troubling in humanitarian terms and imposes real operational friction, potentially slowing tempo and shaping escalation dynamics. North Korea has demonstrated willingness to use a chemical warfare agent in a high-profile context, and its non-membership in the CWC increases uncertainty by removing routine declaration and inspection mechanisms.

Project Anthracite offers a disciplined OSINT framework for narrowing that uncertainty by treating CW potential as an industrial plausibility question: mapping from feedstocks to platform capabilities and high-risk precursor downstream processing and production chains. Patent screening and domestic journals add corroborating texture: they do not prove intent, but they provide capability indicators that help define what North Korea’s chemical industry could plausibly support in a crisis.

Taken together, the most striking insight from this analysis is not the presence of any single “smoking gun,” but the convergence of multiple, discrete indicators that point towards embedded industrial capability. The journal literature highlights applied, optimization-focused research on dual-use intermediates such as 2‑chloroethanol and sodium sulfide which infers activity far beyond laboratory-scale experimentation, while related work in organophosphorus chemistry, pharmaceuticals, and pesticides reinforces the presence of specialist technical expertise transferable to CW-relevant research and development. In parallel, patent screening identifies subtle but meaningful signals of infrastructure capable of handling corrosive and reactive chemistries, including facilities meriting closer scrutiny. Considered together, these indicators strongly suggest a scientific and industrial base that is not uniformly advanced, but sufficiently capable of supporting the production of simpler chemical warfare agents, and potentially more sophisticated capabilities under the right conditions. This underscores the value of cumulative, pattern-based multi-source OSINT, and its value in supporting assessments of hard and complex targets such as North Korea.

The post Project Anthracite: Analyzing North Korean Patents and Academic Journals for Evidence of Chemical Weapons Potential appeared first on 38 North.

The text of North Korea’s (Democratic People’s Republic of Korea; DPRK) latest constitution recently surfaced in South Korea, making it the first publicly available constitution since the September 2023 revision.[1] A review of this law shows the country made changes across a broad range of areas, from Kim Jong Un’s state leadership to economic, social, and cultural policies. Most of them, if not all, merit further research given the importance of this foundational legal document. However, one of the most consequential elements is what the revised constitution suggests about Pyongyang’s longer-term design vis-à-vis Seoul.

The constitution largely confirms what Kim Jong Un himself had previewed in his December 2023 proclamation of a two-state policy and his follow-on calls in January 2024 for constitutional revisions. It treats South Korea (referred to specifically as the “Republic of Korea,” or the ROK, in the document) as a separate state across its “southern border” by adding a territorial clause and removing the longstanding constitutional unification framework. However, the revised text stops short of codifying some of Kim’s more explicit early 2024 formulations, namely: 1) the territorial clause remains vague and does not mention the contested maritime border, the Northern Limit Line (NLL); and 2) it does not define Seoul as the “primary foe” or a “hostile state.” This has given way to some positive assessments that North Korea may be aiming for “peaceful coexistence.” South Korea’s National Intelligence Service, for instance, even suggested the constitution “significantly toned down hostility” and signaled the intent to “maintain the status quo” rather than adopt an offensive posture.

However, when viewed in tandem with broader trends and the context in which it was revised, the new constitutional provisions on defense industry development and military preparedness, combined with Kim’s increased anti-South Korea rhetoric and his sharply increased military- and defense-related public appearances since the Ninth Party Congress, all suggest that Pyongyang is laying the groundwork not for “peaceful coexistence” but rather for a prolonged period of hostile two-state coexistence.

What the Constitution Says… And Doesn’t

It is worth comparing North Korea’s latest constitution with the revisions Kim Jong Un called for in a January 2024 speech to the Supreme People’s Assembly (SPA). Kim said these issues should be deliberated on at the “next SPA,” which would have been October 2024, though these changes could have been made at any time from October 2024 to March 2026. [2][3]

These changes are notable less for what they say than for what they omit.

First, although the constitution now includes a territorial clause defining North Korean territory, it does so in ambiguous terms: it simply describes the DPRK as bordering China and Russia to the north, the ROK to the south and the territorial waters and airspace as “established on that basis.” By omitting any mention of the NLL, North Korea also left unresolved key questions regarding this maritime boundary, which it has historically rejected and which has long been one of the Peninsula’s most dangerous flashpoints.

Second, even while codifying Kim Jong Un’s two-state policy by removing reunification and one-nation wording, the revised constitution avoided using the explicitly hostile language that Kim Jong Un used in January 2024, such as references to “occupying, subjugating and reclaiming the ROK and annex[ing] it” in the event of a war, or defining South Korea as an enemy. The latter omission is especially notable because North Korean state media in October 2024, shortly after the SPA had revised the constitution, reported that the law “stipulates the ROK as a completely hostile state.”

“Peaceful Coexistence” or “Hostile Coexistence”?

At a glance, the ambiguities of the territorial clause and the omission of explicitly hostile language could suggest Pyongyang is intentionally preserving strategic flexibility. However, the constitution should be viewed holistically, both in conjunction with the spirit of the law and the broader trends in North Korea’s public messaging. A review of both point to North Korea’s preparation for continued hostile, rather than peaceful, coexistence with Seoul.

The constitution includes some new provisions that receive comparatively less public attention but are nonetheless important. Newly added Articles 60 and 61 stipulate:[4]

Article 60: The state shall develop defense science and technology and continuously raise the level of the Juche-orientation, modernization, and scientization of the defense industry.

Article 61: The state shall establish a culture of giving importance to military affairs throughout the entire society and ensure thorough preparation for an all-people war of resistance.

These reflect Kim Jong Un’s broader policy direction since 2023, namely his repeated calls for “war,” “combat,” or “fight” preparations since a Workers’ Party of Korea (WPK) Central Military Commission meeting in early 2023 raised the issue of “more strictly perfecting the preparedness for war,” and his unusual attention to the munitions and defense industries since August that year. The emphasis on defense science and technology and the defense industry is also consistent with the 2021 WPK Charter preamble, which stated that the Party “shall continuously consolidate the country’s defense capabilities by … developing a self-supporting defense industry.”[5] The constitution further reinforces this priority by referencing the defense industry also in the preamble itself.

Article 61 is significant in that it elevates ongoing “war of resistance” preparation efforts to the constitution. In December 2023—shortly before Kim brought up “all-people war of resistance”—North Korea enacted a “Law on the Organization and Operation of the People’s Unit [also known as inminban].” Article 21 of this law stipulated inminban leaders’ role in “preparations for an “all-people war of resistance.”[6]

Similarly, North Korea’s position toward South Korea hardened during and after the February 2026 Ninth Party Congress, where it defined domestic and foreign policy goals for the next five years.

Though not codified into the constitution, a summary report of the Party Congress reaffirmed that the “DPRK remains strong and conclusive in its determination and will to regard the ROK just as a very hostile state and eternal enemy” and clarified “the Party’s military and strategic policy of fortifying at an early date the southern borderline adjacent to the ROK.” It then issued the blunt threat of “the ROK’s complete collapse” if it engages in “mischievous acts conducted on the doorstep of a nuclear weapons state.” Kim’s speech to the SPA the following month, where the North made its last round of revisions to the constitution, similarly declared that “we will categorically reject, ignore and treat the ROK with the most explicit words and actions by officially regarding it as the most hostile state.”

Notably, Kim Jong Un’s military- and defense-related public appearances have jumped from 27 percent before the Party Congress, to roughly 64 percent since that event was held.[7] Consistent with the border fortification policy outlined at the Party Congress, his most recent public appearances have explicitly mentioned the planned deployment of “new-type self-propelled gun-howitzers” to the southern border, and a Party policy of “strengthening the first-line units in the southern border and turning the border line into an impregnable fortress.”

Furthermore, since its launch in April 2025, North Korea has conducted multiple tests of the destroyer Choe Hyon in the Yellow Sea (“West Sea”), where the NLL is disputed, with Kim ordering the ship commissioned into the navy in mid-June 2026. Although the territorial clause does not mention the NLL, Kim’s January 2024 speech did reaffirm the country’s longstanding position on this boundary: “As the southern border of our country has been clearly drawn, the illegal ‘northern limit line’ and any other boundary can never be tolerated….” Although the Choe Hyon is intended for deployment with the East Sea Fleet, the ship’s capability tests in the Yellow Sea indicate that militarily challenging the NLL remains a realistic option. In this light, Kim’s remark at the Choe Hyon launch ceremony that North Korea’s preemptive naval strike “is not limited to any place or to any line” feels all the more ominous.

One could argue that the gap between the constitution’s hedged language and state media’s explicitly hostile rhetoric reflects deliberate ambiguity, preserving flexibility for future engagement under different political conditions. However, that reading is difficult to sustain when the constitution’s latest version postdates the Ninth Party Congress—suggesting its provisions align with the Party’s directives.

The more convincing interpretation is that Pyongyang is separating the law from policy: using the constitution as a foundational document that codifies the two-state reality without constraining its operational freedom, while articulating hostility toward South Korea through Kim’s speeches, Party doctrine, and defense policy. In this sense, the omission of language such as “primary foe” or “annex” should not be read as moderation.

Implications and Conclusion

Despite ambiguities and omissions of explicitly hostile formulations, the revised constitution is best understood not as preserving space for future engagement, but as codifying long-term, if not permanent, adversarial coexistence between two sovereign Korean states. That does not preclude future tactical engagement or periods of reduced tension. However, under a hostile coexistence framework, such episodes should be read as tactical instruments, not evidence of a genuine shift in Pyongyang’s long-term posture.

The risk of misreading this is significant. Constitutional ambiguity can look like diplomatic flexibility, but the weight of evidence points consistently in one direction. Treating the omission of explicitly hostile language as a moderating signal, without corroboration from North Korea’s behavior, would be the kind of analytical error that hardens into policy miscalculation.

How much room North Korea has to maneuver within this hostile coexistence framework will depend in part on variables beyond the Peninsula itself. Deepening DPRK-Russia ties have not only increased North Korea’s self-confidence, they have also reportedly reduced Pyongyang’s sensitivity to economic pressure. Perceived weakening of US extended deterrence commitments could embolden Kim Jong Un to test the now-constitutionally-defined “southern border.” Conversely, a stronger and more credible US-ROK alliance may not moderate Pyongyang’s long-term design, but it can constrain the pace and ambition of its execution.

The revised constitution alone does not signal imminent conflict. However, it has made eventual reconciliation far harder to imagine. Sustaining an accurate picture of where North Korea is actually headed, as distinct from where outside observers might hope it might be, is the baseline requirement for any effective response. On the Korean Peninsula, the cost of optimism detached from evidence is too high.

The post Paving the Way for Hostile Coexistence? What North Korea’s Constitutional Revisions Mean for Inter-Korean Ties appeared first on 38 North.

As China and North Korea trade begins to pick back up, the concerted efforts to expand and complete the new customs and immigration area suggest the bridge may finally open—after more than a decade of lying dormant—facilitating greater cargo trade.

Recent Activity

Imagery from May 2026 shows several new buildings have been constructed over the past year, and several vehicles and personnel are moving about the area.

On the west side of the site, four warehouses are under construction, the smaller two measuring 50 meters x 100 meters and the larger measuring 50 meters x 320 meters. Roofing on one of the smaller warehouses was completed in October 2025, while trusses are in place on the other of the same size. The largest warehouses, presumably for holding cargo, appear to still be in the early stages of construction.

On the east side, nearly twenty new buildings and potential vehicle depots have been built-up in the last year. Blue tarped mounds are observed throughout the site, likely covering building materials.

South of the area, it appears a traffic control point is being built along the road.

Future of the Site

The site is expected to be a customs and immigration facility for passengers and freight crossing the New Yalu River Bridge. Land was initially cleared for the site in spring 2020, but building construction did not begin until February 2025. In March of 2025, construction huts appeared in the area. DailyNK reporting from September 2025 suggested that exterior construction on a seven-story building—that will serve as a border control and commercial complex—had been completed, with plans to complete the interior by early November 2025.

At typical North Korean border crossings, customs facilities serve as a place for the transfer of goods, with vehicles entering from China, dropping off or picking up goods at the appropriate checkpoint, and returning home. It appears that this facility will operate in a similar manner, preventing the flow of foreign vehicles further into the country.

On the Chinese side, no construction activity is apparent at the customs area, although the same DailyNK report notes preparations for full operation are underway.

The post Quick Take: Progress Continues at New Yalu River Bridge Crossing appeared first on 38 North.

North Korea’s growing nuclear capabilities have recently come back into public focus. Speaking in Seoul, International Atomic Energy Agency (IAEA) chief Rafael Grossi highlighted “very serious” advances in Pyongyang’s Yongbyon complex infrastructure, including a “probable” addition of a new uranium enrichment facility. Several sources indicate that Pyongyang is currently estimated to possess upwards of 50 nuclear warheads.

Such rapid advances in North Korea’s armament, however, come as no surprise. Under the Comprehensive Strategic Partnership with Moscow, Pyongyang has sought to utilize Russian expertise to expand its conventional arsenal with new delivery methods and launch platforms. The Korean People’s Army has also gained experience fighting in Russia and exposure to drone warfare and tactics.

Since the invasion of Ukraine, the scale of cooperation has come to mirror that of a full-fledged military alliance details about technology transfers and the full extent of cooperation remain opaque. A growing body of indicators, however, suggests that Moscow may be playing a larger role in Pyongyang’s military and nuclear modernization than previously understood, with significant implications for regional security and proliferation dynamics.

This report traces these links by triangulating advances in uranium enrichment and potential nuclear submarine propulsion systems, the intermediary networks involved, and the strategic logic behind the growing degree of Russian involvement in Pyongyang’s nuclear complex. For regimes such as North Korea, nuclear autonomy has increasingly proven to be the main component of deterrence, stability, and power projection, making Russian assistance to Pyongyang’s military and nuclear modernization particularly consequential for the security environment in the Asia-Pacific region.

Indicators of Russian Technical Transfers

One of the most significant suggestions of nuclear cooperation between Russia and North Korea centers around the possible transfer of propulsion systems for Pyongyang’s new nuclear-powered ballistic missile submarine (SSBN), capable of carrying submarine-launched ballistic missiles (SLBMs).

As some experts note, the transfer of two or three nuclear reactors by Moscow was possible, while others allude to the transfer of parts such as cooling systems or reactor cores. If successful, Moscow’s assistance to North Korea’s nuclear submarine program could shave several years off its deployment timeline, introducing new challenges for US and allied anti-submarine warfare operations in a potential dual-contingency scenario involving both the Korean Peninsula and the Taiwan Strait, albeit not dramatically.

Multiple coinciding factors indicate that such an effort was on track to take place in early December 2024, when the Russian cargo ship Ursa Major was en route from St. Petersburg to Vladivostok. The ship, however, mysteriously sank off the coast of Cartagena.

Ukraine’s Defense Intelligence reports further indicate that Ursa Major was a part of Russia’s shadow fleet under the internationally sanctioned SC-South LLC, a subsidiary of Russia’s sole provider of shipping services to the Ministry of Defense (MoD), Oboronlogistika LLC.

While no official information about the cargo has surfaced, sources indicate that the ship was transporting sensitive, military-related freight, with “undeclared heavy containers at the ship’s stern.” The presence of Russian Navy ships Ivan Gren and the oceanographic vessel Yantar at the site of Ursa Major’s sinking points to the significance of the freight.

Reactor Compatibility

Ursa Major’s port of origin aligns with the location of the St. Petersburg-based Malakhit Marine Engineering Design Bureau (SPMBM), which designed the Akula-class (Project 971 Shchuka-B) submarines, as well as the Rubin Central Design Bureau, which designed the Project 941 Typhoon nuclear-powered submarines.

North Korea’s own nuclear submarine is estimated to have a surface displacement of 8,700 tons, which makes its specifications most closely align with the Akula-class. The Akula is powered by the OK-650 (OK-9BM) series pressurized-water nuclear reactor, with an estimated capacity of 180–190 megawatts. Considering Pyongyang’s own nuclear submarine displacement and dimensions, this makes the possible transfer of complete units or parts of less powerful VM-A and VM-4 series propulsion systems, with capacities of 70–90 megawatts, less likely.

Nevertheless, based on estimated dimensions of the Russian OK-650 reactor, which are broadly comparable to those of US Navy Los Angeles-class SSNs, and in the absence of official data on the weight of the OK series, Ursa Major’s dimensions would have allowed for the possible transfer of complete reactor units from donor submarines.

H.I. Sutton provides a detailed breakdown of such prospective propulsion donors. Indeed, in recent years, Russia has decommissioned several Akula-class boats that could have been used as donors, with the latest one, Kashalot, being put out of service in 2019. Moreover, most decommissioned Akula-class boats are located at the Zvezda Shipyard near Vladivostok (Ursa Major’s port of destination) and in St. Petersburg (Ursa Major’s port of origin), although the Akula in St. Petersburg has been rumored to be converted into a museum. Other Akula-class submarines that are currently reported as not operationally ready are undergoing modernization at the Sevmash plant in Severodvinsk.

While it is too early to verify the transfer of complete reactor units, the history of the Akula-class submarines and the patterns around decommissioning indicate a potential connection that at minimum spans technological transfers or transfers of reactor parts such as cooling systems to Pyongyang. Moscow also has a history of leasing such submarines, notably to India in the 2010s, which suggests that sensitive technologies are not entirely vetoed for export to aligned countries.

In this light, it would be equally incorrect to rule out transfers of nuclear submarine parts in any capacity until further official information from defense intelligence or other highly credible sources, as well as the findings of an official investigation into Ursa Major’s cargo, become available.

Uranium Enrichment Bottlenecks

Growing Vertical and Horizontal Demand in Uranium

An emergence of a submarine-based nuclear delivery capability alone introduces a structurally significant demand for highly enriched uranium (HEU). Naval propulsion reactors, such as the Russian OK-650 or domestically developed alternatives, typically rely on HEU, often at elevated enrichment levels.

A recent RUSI report assesses that HEU in North Korea likely supports a range of warhead design applications across tactical and strategic systems, including potentially supplementing plutonium in strategic systems to extend limited fissile stocks. Pyongyang, therefore, is facing the need to sustain a more complex and resource-constrained fuel cycle in which weapons production is now potentially facing the addition of a naval propulsion program.

When combined with prospective naval propulsion requirements, this points to increasing demand in HEU, consistent with IAEA assessments of significant expansion in enrichment-related infrastructure at Yongbyon, including an unconfirmed but potentially relevant new facility construction.

Some analysts indicate that, in order to make the submarine component more viable, Pyongyang will need to maintain at least several submarines operationally ready. HEU enrichment expansion could therefore eventually support broader submarine propulsion requirements. Such developments, however, would not constitute an immediate enabler of an operational submarine fleet, but rather a longer-term supporting component of a maturing nuclear posture.

Russia’s Role in Helping with Supply Chain Constraints

Similarly, North Korea’s sources of uranium ore development, extraction, and processing remain opaque. Deeper and more diversified nuclear cooperation with Russia, while officially off the books, could be the solution to potential extraction or supply bottlenecks.

Russian state media TASS has recently stated that, under the Comprehensive Treaty, “…the countries will develop cooperation and exchanges, as well as joint research, including in the field of ‘peaceful nuclear energy.’” While the extent of the “peaceful nuclear energy” component of cooperation is not transparent, several coinciding reports indicate that such cooperation is becoming more structural, including mineral extraction, scientific research, and industrial processing that can support North Korea’s broader nuclear fuel cycle.

In August 2025, North Korean geologists underwent advanced training in geology, including uranium ore location and extraction, at Rosgeo Holding, Russia’s largest geological surveying company, and the Irkutsk National Research Technical University (INRTU).

Furthermore, INRTU and several other universities in Russia, according to the dean, are “a platform for educating students from North Korea in various fields, including geology, information technology, energy, mechanical engineering, and chemical technology.” Consequently, integration of North Korean geologists into Russia’s surveying sector indicates growing and multidimensional research ties between North Korea and Russia.

However, according to the Polish Institute of International Affairs (PISM), constraints in research cooperation could still exist.

“In light of the history of the Soviet Union and Russia’s current policies, any proliferation of blueprints for designs of modern thermonuclear weapons, constructed by the centres in Sarov (VNIIEF) and Chelyabinsk-70 (VNIITF) would be less probable, and extremely risky. Due to this, Kim’s regime might be left with a dependence on North Korean scientists and engineers, as well as making use of opportunities for broader access for North Korean students to a limited number of Russian universities and higher schools, along with espionage there.”

Considering the growing number of North Korean laborers, students, and scientists entering Russia, research cooperation between the two countries would continue to evolve both officially and through other means. Following geological training, more substantial nuclear research has the potential to become more plausible in the future.

Political Reasoning

While indicators point to deeper involvement in North Korea’s expanding nuclear complex, such a move carries political risks. The Kremlin, nevertheless, appears willing to make such a tradeoff.

Russian foreign policy has long-leveraged regional tension short of destabilization. A nuclear, Russia-leaning North Korea is Moscow’s force multiplier in the Asia-Pacific region. Considering the China-Russia partnership and Moscow’s growing dissatisfaction with Beijing’s pragmatism over its war in Ukraine, having a more pro-Russian Pyongyang gives the Kremlin leverage in its own relationship with Beijing and in Beijing’s periphery.

Similarly, a closer relationship maintains Moscow’s pipeline of troops and weapons from North Korea. Pragmatism has defined Kim Jong Un’s approach to Russia, and in the short term, this alignment appears to have benefited both regimes.

China’s MFA’s recent visit to Pyongyang may be connected to this logic and may have been conducted as an effort to counterbalance the growing influence of Moscow over Pyongyang with economic benefits and bilateral ties. As the visit was a premise to discuss different visions on certain “regional and international issues,” the visit suggests Beijing’s growing concerns over the depth of Pyongyang-Moscow cooperation. There is a common notion that Beijing has “lost control” over its neighbor. In this regard, coordinated engagement creates openings for reengagement with Pyongyang over its nuclear arsenal and Russia’s involvement in its expansion.

What Can Be Done

Beijing, like Washington, has little interest in seeing Pyongyang’s enrichment capabilities and nuclear arsenal expand unchecked. For China, a rogue, less controllable regime becomes more of a liability than an asset. With Russia’s involvement in this expansion, coordinated pressure from Washington and Beijing aimed at weakening Pyongyang’s reliance on Moscow could help reduce regional tensions.

Simultaneously, experts suggest that in the US, South Korea, and Japan, there is a growing recognition of the need to manage rather than fully eliminate North Korea’s nuclear capabilities. However, Pyongyang’s evolving relationship with Russia is one of several factors reinforcing its nuclear posture, and any future dialogue with North Korea regarding these factors that does not account for this dimension is likely to face significant constraints.

Russia has become an important enabler of North Korea’s military modernization. In this reality, an open dialogue with Pyongyang remains an option, but its prospects for meaningful progress would likely improve if external sources of military support and modernization are more effectively constrained through sanctions and pressure on Moscow. Under such conditions, prospects for greater stability on the Korean Peninsula and in the wider Asia-Pacific region may become more attainable.

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The most recent North Korean (Democratic People’s Republic of Korea or DPRK) constitution was released by the South Korean government on May 5. The document is most likely an amalgamation of revisions and amendments made during the first session of the 15th Supreme People’s Assembly (SPA) in March 2026 in addition to those made during previous SPA sessions in 2021, 2023, and 2024 to 2026.

The revised constitution confirmed changes that had been alluded to in previous North Korean reporting, such as the codification of the DPRK’s two-state policy with the South. However, it also made changes to the composition and mandate of the State Affairs Commission (SAC), elevating Kim Jong Un’s power as its leader, and formalized North Korea’s nuclear command and control. These are arguably the most significant changes to the constitution as they redefine the role of the leader and expand the scope of the government’s supreme power and decision-making organization.

SAC Changes and Implications for Kim Jong Un

During the first session of the 15th SPA, key changes were made to SAC composition. Notably, membership was expanded from 11 to 13 members, adding new institutional affiliations and policy writs to SAC’s jurisdiction. These changes reoriented the SAC toward the domestic policy space from foreign and military affairs; for example, the number of foreign affairs officials on the SAC was reduced from four to two. Additions included the 1st Vice Premier, a new post created at the 15th SPA, and the director of the Supreme Prosecutors’ Office. The Party Central Committee also got two new SAC slots—the head of Workers’ Organizations and the head of personnel and disciplinary affairs.

These personnel changes expand the power of the SAC over multiple aspects of the system. The addition of the 1^st Vice Premier extends influence over domestic economic policy, while the chief prosecutor adds jurisdiction over law enforcement. Adding the head of the Party Workers’ Organizations Department expands SAC’s oversight into North Korean social life and social controls. The Workers’ Organizations’ slot creates a formal mechanism between workers and social organizations that contributes to Reserve Military Training Units (RMTUs), particularly the Youth League and the Young Red Guards. Finally, the head of the Party Cadres’ Affairs formalizes the SAC’s role in human resources decision-making. Previously, this was done purely through party control mechanisms. And the two Party Central Committee Secretary/Director slots codify and enhance the SAC’s predominance in North Korea’s political and strategic decision-making cultures.

Together, these changes consolidate and bolster Kim Jong Un’s decision making authority as SAC Chairman. For instance, the SAC Chairman no longer “guides the work of the SAC” because the Central Committee and/or General-Secretary can transmit the SAC’s work via Party controls. Article 90 in the constitution even confers recess powers (i.e., between SPA sessions) on the SAC Chairman, granting him the ability to dismiss, appoint or suspend “major state officials,” explicitly including the SPA President and DPRK Premier, as well as SPA deputies. While the SPA still elects the SAC Chairman, according to Article 87, the SAC Chairman has a fixed term of five years and the SPA can no longer remove him from office.

Nuclear Command, Control, and Communications

Article 89 of the revised constitution establishes Kim Jong Un’s direct command and control over North Korea’s nuclear weapons (“command authority over the state’s nuclear forces”) concurrently as SAC Chairman and Supreme Commander of the Korean People’s Army (KPA). The article also establishes the devolution of authority to launch nuclear weapons, meaning in a crisis, or what Pyongyang perceives to be a crisis, Kim Jong Un has the option (may) delegate authority for a nuclear counterstrike to the Nuclear Forces Command (NFC) under the State Affairs Commission (SAC).

It is highly probable that this does not represent a change to DPRK nuclear command, control, and communications (NC3). Rather, this merely codifies and publicizes, in broad terms, North Korean planning in the event of war or a decapitation strike targeting leadership facilities. Devolved NC3 authority has most likely been on the books for years, especially as it was written into the 2022 Law on Nuclear Forces, along with other war-time contingency planning including devolved conventional force command and control. The article’s mention of delegated NC3 essentially underscores to domestic and foreign audiences North Korean intentions to launch a nuclear counterstrike should Kim Jong Un and core leadership be targeted in an invasion. Notably, because the NFC is part of the constitutional responsibilities of the SAC Chairman, suggesting that that it is subordinate to the SAC.

Conclusion

These changes to the constitution are only half of the story. Without a copy of the Party Charter as it stands after the Ninth Party Congress, it is difficult to discern the interplay between party authority and the government. This is needed to fully understand the substantive shifts of regime power and process.

The post Quick Take: The Leader Gets a Strong Constitution appeared first on 38 North.

Introduction

Project Anthracite is the RUSI project to assess the nature and scale of North Korea’s chemical warfare (CW) capability using open-source capabilities. While a major part of the effort is to study the North Korean chemical industry to determine the potential capability and capacity to support a CW program, this is unlikely to provide definitive evidence of an active CW capability. An end-to-end approach would be needed to determine this, which is beyond the scope of the current study and unlikely to be fully achieved using only publicly-available sources.

One element of this approach is to ascertain the existence and location of dedicated military battalions (Bns) subordinate to the Nuclear and Chemical Defense Bureau (NCDB)[1]. Eight Bns are referenced, two of which are reportedly active (the 17^th & 18^th), with six in reserve (13^th, 14^th, 15^th 16^th, 27^th and 36^th). Multiple reports about the locations and even existence of these Bns are contradictory, historical, and the subject of probable circular reporting. Additionally, the existence of NCDB Bns would not necessarily confirm the existence of an offensive, militarized nuclear or chemical warfare capability, as it could be argued that such formations would have a defensive function to counter an external chemical or biological warfare (CBW) threat.

Some or all of the reported Bns may no longer exist, may never have existed, may have been relocated, or may be hidden from sight (tunnel complexes are prolific in North Korea). Additionally, the North Koreans are extremely surveillance-aware and therefore tend to avoid sensitive activity during known time windows of satellite passes. However, the lack of an external, credible nuclear, biological or chemical (NBC) threat to the DPRK indicates that the existence of NCDB Bns could be an indicator of an offensive North Korean CBW capability.

Through a broad search and analysis of commercially and publicly available imagery and other available open-source references, this study sought to identify possible likely locations for the NCDB Bns, prioritizing the 17^th & 18^th Bns for which there was the most collateral reporting, including defector testimony. Specific attention was applied to identifying anything on imagery that could support a link to CW (e.g., specialist vehicles, reinforced storage areas, additional security, collocated/integrated production or storage facilities).

Several identified sites of interest were analyzed, some of which had some of these features, however only one NCDB Bn (18^th) was located, which heavily relied on collateral reporting. The scarcity of reliable open-source collateral and large geographical extent of the search areas, limited access to very high-resolution imagery. The ambitious nature of this study makes this overall a low-confidence assessment of the existence and/or location of NCDB Bns. However, it provides a useful baseline and an example of the challenges and opportunities of open-source intelligence (OSINT) when applied to such a complex and difficult target set.

Background & Context

According to the Nuclear Threat Initiative (NTI), the North Korean Nuclear and Chemical Defence Bureau (NDCB) is actively involved in the research and development of weapons, and nuclear and chemical defence. It operates at the national level and reportedly is broken down into seven different units: operations, training, materials, technology, reconnaissance, section No. 32 (possibly relating to CW research & development), and mining/underground facility operations. Two additional research institutes (No. 55 and, No. 398) are responsible for: 1) simulating nuclear and chemical contamination and 2) training and operations, and decontamination respectively.

According to NTI, the NDCB has its own department of operations, made up of eight battalions.[2] Two of these were reported as active, the 17^th and 18^th, with the remaining, 13^th,14^th, 15^th, 16^th, 27^th, and 36^th in reserve. Some of these national assets may be assigned to support a corps, division, or regiment, and provide the Korean People’s Army Ground Forces (KPAGF) with both detection and decontamination capabilities.

According to the US Army, North Korean chemical battalions comprise three chemical companies, each with two chemical reconnaissance platoons and two chemical decontamination platoons. This potential subordination, historical nature of the reporting on unit designations, and the likely routine reorganization and re-designation of military units in general, further challenges the ability to identify and locate CBW related units since they are likely to be dispersed and integrated into other military formations.

In the absence of additional information, this analysis focused exclusively on attempting to identify the eight NCDB Bns listed above. Each of these Bns were considered in turn to try to identify and locate them on imagery.

NCDB Bn ORBATs and Functions

If there is little in the way of open-source reference material regarding the existence and location of NCDB Bns, there is even less on the potential orders of battle (ORBATs), structures, or task organization for an NCDB Bn.

The NCDB is reported to be responsible for oversight and technical assistance for chemical precursor and agent production, distribution and storage of chemical weapons, and production of defensive equipment in coordination with other military organizations. It also is responsible for NBC defense training within the KPA and response to NBC incidents. At the tactical level, it would therefore be logical for NCDB Bns to have both offensive and defensive responsibilities. This could include the handling and transport of chemical weapons and radiological material, training and doctrinal development for NBC resilience, specialist support to CBW delivery capabilities (e.g., chemical artillery and chemical warheads), and providing an emergency response to accidents and leaks, in addition to protection and decontamination of North Korean forces in the event of conflict.

As in all national militaries, the size of a battalion depends on the type of troops involved, the role of the battalion and the doctrine employed by the nation involved. North Korean military doctrine evolved from the Former Soviet Union in the 1950s-60s, when the Korean People’s Army (KPA) was trained, organized and equipped along Soviet lines. During the Korean War, Chinese influence led to a greater emphasis on irregular warfare, the use of light infantry and human wave tactics. Following the end of the war, juche (self-reliance) and songun (military-first) ideologies reshaped doctrine to prioritize internal resilience, asymmetry, and independence from foreign dependencies.

Deep tunnelling and underground facilities, massed artillery near the demilitarized zone, forward-deployed light mobile infantry forces, and training for guerilla operations behind enemy lines have since been prioritized. KPA ground force battalions are therefore not standardized against other well-documented doctrinal models, and likely have, in any case, evolved as the KPA has modernized. Additionally, the highly specialist nature of an NCBD Bn makes it unlikely that it would follow standard organizational norms.

However, this specialization is likely to be reflected in the type of equipment observed within such a unit. Expected signature vehicle types would include CBRN reconnaissance vehicles such as the M1989 (variant of the BTR-60PB), modified UAZ-469 or Kia KM420, and decontamination trucks based on the Zil-130 or Gaz-66, or indigenously-produced variants. Signature decontamination vehicles may include Russian TMS-65U and ARK-14KM, although decontamination equipment could also be mounted on a variety of Russian or North Korean chasses. Other vehicles may include command and control vehicles (e.g. Gaz-69 variants), general transport (e.g. Zil-130, Gaz-66 trucks), indigenously-produced variants such as the Sungri-58 (built on a Gaz-51 chassis) and Sungri-4.15 (built on a Gaz-69 chassis), and light engineering support vehicles such as bulldozers and diggers. Although some of these generic vehicle types are potentially identifiable on very high resolution imagery, specific features of individual variants identifying them as NBC-related are too small to be visible. Many of these vehicles are applicable to both nuclear and chemical functions and as such, even if positively identified, would not, on their own, confirm a chemical warfare-related unit. Together, these factors make the task of identifying NCDB Bns on imagery particularly challenging.

A common feature of the battalion is that it is the main tactical formation capable of acting independently. The multiplicity of potential tasks and the sensitive nature of the NCDB Bn role make it feasible that they would be based in discrete, self-contained bases, not necessarily collocated with other KPA units, although this cannot be ruled out. Other potential features are a proximity to CBW-related facilities, including those linked to research and development, chemical weapon production sites, missile units, decontamination training facilities, and CW storage facilities. NCDB units may also be deployed alongside other tactical units for training and exercises, however, they are likely to return to their home bases upon completion of these activities. Finally, the existence of extensive tunnels and underground facilities throughout North Korea means it cannot be ruled out that NCDB Bns are hidden from view.

Potential Locations of NCDB Bns

13^th NCDB Bn – Hamhung Vinalon Complex

The 13^th NCDB (reserve) Bn has been reported as located at the Hamhung Vinalon Complex. This is assumed to be what is more frequently referred to as the February 8^th Vinalon Complex. An approximate 15 kilometer diameter area imagery search centered on the Vinalon Complex (39°51′21″N 127°35′07″E) was conducted to identify a potential location for the 13^th NCDB Bn (Figure 1).

The following three areas of interest were located as the only probable military facilities identified in the search area, other than air defense sites:

Area of Interest (AOI) #1 (39°48′57″N 127°35′28″E). This probable military facility is located 3 kilometers southwest of the 8^th February Vinalon complex, adjacent to the Number 17 Explosives Factory. The site comprises a HQ/Admin compound with probable barracks, a vehicle depot that may double up as a depot for civilian vehicles servicing the adjacent explosives factory, a separately secured, walled compound that may be a small arms shooting range, and a small probable training area. The training area includes a trench and three possible mock up military vehicles that appear to have been static on all available imagery since early 2015. Imagery quality is unable to identify these vehicles and they may be generic mock ups, but they appear to have a configuration indicating armoured personnel carriers (APCs). However, they are relatively small vehicles (approximately 4 meters in length), which makes them shorter than most APCs, so they could be modified light command vehicles.

This is a small military establishment, and the only identified probable military site within the immediate vicinity of the Vinalon Complex, but it could also be associated with the nearby explosives factory. The configuration of the base indicates its primary role is for training. That would be consistent for a reserve Bn, however there is no evidence of military vehicles other than those on the training area, and no other evidence from imagery that this could be the location of a NCDB Bn.

Area of Interest #2 (39°55’56”N, 127°31’56”E). This military facility is located behind the Institute of Chemistry (Hamhung Branch) that was the subject of a previous report. It comprises a large vehicle storage compound with U-shaped and rectangular sheds, and a second vehicle storage area that may be for vehicle maintenance. Military vehicles are regularly seen in both areas. Although imagery resolution precludes a positive identification of these vehicles, a rough mensuration on all available imagery since 2017 indicates most of them are box bodied vehicles, approximately 4 meters in length and 1.8 meters in width (Figure 4).

Imagery from June 2, 2017, shows nine vehicles of these dimensions, which is consistent with a Bn-level formation. There are few military vehicles of these dimensions, apart from the UAZ-469. The UAZ-469 is a common Soviet Union era light utility vehicle, widely exported globally.[3] Numerous variants and local adaptations of this vehicle have been produced, including a CBRN reconnaissance variant (designated the UAZ-469RKh). Modifications for this variant are visibly minor and are comprised of predominantly antennae and tubes, so are undistinguishable on commercial satellite imagery. There are several features about this location that would make it a logical location for an NCDB Bn: its colocation with the Institute of Chemistry (Hamhung Branch) that has been potentially linked to research and development for chemical weapons, and the possible existence of buried and bermed buildings associated with this facility would support this assumption. However, there is nothing on imagery to confirm the nature of the military base, and the presence of air defense sites, communications towers, and other potentially sensitive facilities in the area makes it equally likely that the base could be used to support any or all of those.

Area of Interest #3 (39°56’15”N, 127°30’54”E). On the other side of the mountain, and linked by a switchback road to AOI #2, is another military base, comprising three separate areas. Nested in the foothills is an HQ/administrative support compound, with a sports field/parade square and probable barracks.

Directly opposite the main entrance to this compound, on the other side of the main road that leads directly to the 8^th February Vinalon Complex, approximately 10 kilometers away, is a vehicle depot. This comprises a large walled compound surrounded by vehicle sheds, with a single entryway. There is an unidentified structure in the compound that appears to be have a bund wall and two vents, but the quality of available imagery precludes a positive identification. Military vehicles are regularly observed in the compound, as is a white coach (Figure 5).

The third area is located further east, 0.5 kilometers down an access road from the vehicle depot. It comprises two areas, one an active air defense site and the other a probable air defense support area. The location and layout of this AOI does not rule it out as a candidate for the 13^th NCDB Bn, however its proximity to the air defense site suggests that the facility is air defense-related.

14^th NCDB Bn – Sunchon Vinalon Complex

The 14^th NCDB Bn has been associated with the Sunchon Vinalon Complex (also known as 118 Factory and the Sunchon Nitrolime Fertilizer Factory). This is located in the sprawling industrial city of Sunchon, and is the subject of a separate report. It was established in 1985, but by 2009, the original site had reportedly been shut down and was derelict. This could potentially impact the existence or location of the 14^th NCDB Bn, and available historical imagery prior to 2009 was limited. However, subsequent analysis indicates that significant reconstruction has occurred in this area, and other potentially chemical warfare-associated sites are present. These include the Sunchon Pharmaceutical Factory, Sunchon Chemical Complex, and a new facility constructed to the southeast between November 2019 and June 2022 (Figure 7). The continuing existence of an NCDB Bn in the Sunchon area is therefore feasible.

With no other collateral information than the name of the Bn, an imagery search 10 kilometers in diameter was conducted to identify potential candidate facilities. While there were numerous sites that had characteristics of military facilities, many of these were in urban areas and had the appearance of training, academy or administration sites with little security. These have therefore been discounted. The proximity of Sunchon Military Airfield to the Sunchon Phosphatic Fertilizer Plant (within 4 kilometers) is of particular note. The airfield has an embedded underground complex and would be a natural location for an NCDB Bn. The following were identified as potential sites of interest, based on their layout, location and in some cases, the historical presence of military vehicles (Figure 8).

Area of Interest #1 – 39°25′10.54″N 125°53′39.29″E. AOI #1 is a military facility located approximately 500 meters northeast of Sunchon Military Airfield, to which it is connected by well-maintained metalled roads. It comprises a large probable sports field, around which are located several support buildings, including a possible gymnasium and probable accommodation blocks. To the west of this primary area are two other compounds, one of which has the appearance of a vehicle maintenance depot and behind this a separately secured compound with a vehicle parking area and a U-shaped support building.

This compound was reconstructed between late 2017 and early 2018. Prior to that, military vehicles of various sizes were regularly observed in this compound (e.g see Figure 10), although the quality of available imagery precluded a positive identification of vehicle types.

The layout of the main area of the facility indicates this is either a military training establishment or barracks, potentially for military personnel serving the airfield. Two significant new buildings were constructed between September and December 2024, likely to be sports centers/gymnasiums (Figure 11).

While there is nothing on imagery to positively identify this as the location for an NCDB Bn, the discrete, separately secured compound highlighted on Figure 10 would be the most likely location for one if it were there. However, the relatively high profile of the site, further evidenced by the formal avenue of trees on the approach road, indicates this as an unlikely location for an NCDB Bn.

Area of Interest #2 – 39°25′56.89″N 125°54′09.85″E. AOI #2 is a smaller compound off the same access road as AOI #1. It comprises of a central open area that has historically been used as a football pitch, and several support buildings, including probable barracks and vehicle maintenance sheds. On imagery from September 19, 2022, eight military vehicles are parked on the central open area. Image quality precludes a positive identification of these vehicles, and there may be more than one type, however all are approximately 5 meters-long. There is a probable open body truck parked separately in the compound. Notably, this is the only available image in which vehicles have been identified at this location.

This site is in close proximity to an underground hangar that is almost certainly used to store military aircraft. It has two separate entrances that allow the aircraft to transit in and out of the tunnel without having to turn round. While the expanse of the facility is unknown, the number of aircraft that have been seen parked outside, on, for example, imagery from April 16, 2018 (Figure 13), indicates a substantial underground area.

There is no evidence on imagery or other collateral to indicate a link to a NCDB Bn, and it would be unlikely that chemical or nuclear weapons would be stored in the same buried location as operational aircraft, although this cannot be entirely ruled out. The lack of regular military vehicle activity or additional security makes it far more likely that this site is a general support area for the underground facility.

Area of Interest #3 – 39°24′59.54″N 125°54′19.52″E. Immediately behind AOI #2 is a third military compound. This compound comprises a vehicle parking lot and probable maintenance areas, possible workshops and an HQ/Admin building. Several features distinguish this site from AOIs #1 and #2. While it is the same general vicinity, it is accessed by a single-track road and contains two artificial water reservoirs. Vehicle activity is also more consistent over a longer period, with a greater range of vehicles frequently observed (Figure 15), although quality of available imagery in unable to confirm vehicle types.

Of note are a series of semi-bermed probable storage buildings on the access road and along a connected track to the east (Figure16).

Historical imagery from December 2002 (Figure 17) also indicates potential tunnel entrances and other possible hidden entrances that have since been covered by vegetation and trees.

While there is no indication of a link between these buildings and either AOIs #2 or #3, the proximity and access make a link possible. The proximity to Sunchon Military Airfield makes it just as likely that these structures are associated with operations there. There is also an adjacent substantial probable logistics/storage compound that could be linked to these buildings. This compound has gradually expanded since 2017 and is likely to be linked to the observed airfield refurbishment.

Area of Interest #4 – 39°24′49.43″N 125°54′39.68″E. This site is connected to a much larger probable military barracks via a single-track road. It is located approximately 1.2 kilometers from the airfield and 2.5 kilometers from the Sunchon Phosphatic Fertilizer Plant. Of note, it has no direct access to the airfield so is likely not linked.

Although an innocuous looking facility, it is characterized by very high physical security, including a high wall surrounding the entire compound, two guard towers and a probable guard room. Various military vehicles and trucks have been observed in the central compound since at least 2006. While the compound has been in existence since the first available imagery of 2002, it was only wall secured in 2006. Two unidentified circular buildings were present immediately outside the facility until their removal in 2011, but it is unclear as to both their role and whether they are linked to the facility (Figure 19).

15^th NCDB Bn

Given the lack of a location for the 15^th NCDB Bn, and the complete lack of any collateral information, it has been impossible to determine whether this Bn exists.

16^th NCDB Bn – Namhung Youth Chemical Complex

The 16^th NCDB (Reserve) Bn is reportedly located at the Namhung (Anju Namheung) Chemical Factory, which is located just north of the Chongchon River, in North Pyongan Province (39°39′05.72″N 125°41′17.55″E – Figure 20). This is a large chemical complex, built in the 1970s, that has been a central part of North Korea’s chemical industry and is a major producer of a range of chemicals for agriculture and other civil industries.

Located near the city of Anju, the complex is sometimes also referred to as the Anju Youth Chemical Complex or the Namhung Chemical Factory. Since the 1970s, the complex has been an active site with regular expansion and modernisation that still takes place today and it has been linked with elements of a CW program. This makes it a logical location for an NCDB Bn. However, being a reserve Bn, there may be little to see on imagery and there may just be a headquarters element that could be accommodated in one of the several administrative buildings on the complex. For consistency, a 10 kilometer diameter area search, centered on the middle of the complex, was conducted to look for potential sites. The following sites of interest were noted.

Area of Interest One – 39°37′18.20″N 125°41′23.52″E. AOI #1 is a walled discrete military compound, located in a residential area approximately 2.5 kilometers to the south of the Namhung Youth Chemical Complex, to which it is connected by road. The facility comprises an HQ/Admin building, vehicle storage and maintenance sheds. A variety of military vehicles have been observed on imagery within the compound on a regular basis since the first available image from 2006.

Area of Interest Two – 39°40′39.20″N 125°41′39.67″E. AOI #2 is another walled military compound, located approx. 2.5 kilometers north of the Namhung Youth Chemical Complex. It includes a central courtyard, with likely vehicle storage/maintenance and workshops around the perimeter. Numerous military vehicles have been observed on imagery since the first available image in 2006, although the quality of imagery precludes their identification.

Area of Interest #3 – 39°34′28.84″N 125°39′45.89″E. AOI #3 is a walled compound within a much broader sensitive complex spread out over a valley within a mountainous area approximately 8 kilometers south of the Namhung Youth Chemical Complex. The facility is accessed via a single road with a controlled access point and is fence secured over a large area.

Within the complex, there are numerous remotely-located bermed buildings, indicating the storage of volatile or explosive material. There are also substantial areas of disturbed earth and individual buildings nested into the mountainside, indicating the potential presence of underground structures.

This facility is fairly non-descript, comprising a small, separately secured compound, with a central courtyard, admin/support buildings, vehicle storage sheds and a probable inspection ramp. Of note, there is a bermed building in a compound immediately adjacent to the AOI, with a probable guard tower at the entrance. This is connected by a track to two further, unidentified buildings. Another small bermed building was removed sometime between 2014 and 2016 (Figure 26).

Area of Interest #4 – 39°42′13.38″N 125°39′04.06″E. AOI #4 is located in a heavily militarized mountainous region, approximately 5.5 kilometers north of the Namhung Youth Chemical Complex. It comprises a discrete compound on the periphery of a larger military facility, at the end of a 2 kilometer tree-lined avenue. This compound consists of a central courtyard surrounded by buildings probably associated with vehicle storage, maintenance and administrative support. Military vehicles are regularly seen within the compound, although not in significant numbers.

Adjacent to the compound is another separately-secured site that has a single building surrounded by a berm. The site has the look of a training base or academy and is in the vicinity of at least two helicopter operating and dispersal facilities. It could therefore be related to flying training and the bermed compound a possible armory, although that is purely conjecture.

There are numerous other military establishments within the search area, most of which are barracks, headquarters and support buildings and with central courtyards, some of which have sports pitches marked out on them. There is nothing compelling from imagery that can positively identify the presence or identity of an NCDB Bn. However, based on location, layout, associated facilities, and activity, the four AOIs described above are the most likely candidates for a 16^th NCDB Bn, should one exist in this area.

17^th NCDB Bn – Onjong-Ri

Reporting on the possible location of 17th NCDB Bn is historical and contradictory, and, despite claims that this is one of two active Bns, there has been no confirmation to-date that this battalion exists. A key challenge in identifying a location for this NCDB Bn has been to refine the appropriate image search areas, given the plethora of reported place names with different translated spellings, similar place names in different regions, and probable circular reporting. Examples are as follows: ‘The 17th battalion was located at a hot-spring spa in the mountains of Ojong-Ri.’ The only location for Onjong-Ri on Google Earth and other reference material is in South Hamgyong Province (39°31′49.58″N 127°21′56.63″E) which is in the east of the country. The same reference places Onjong-Ri in Songchon County, South Pyongan Province (in the central west of the country). Other references are variations on the theme that may be due to translation or nomenclature variations, for example, ‘17th NCDB is location at Pyeongan Namdo Songchon gun Onjori.’

The existence of the 17^th Bn has been questioned, but an NCDB General Training Center at Onjong-Ri has also been reported.[4] Ri Chung Guk lists the 17th NCDB as Onjong-ri, in Songchun County, South Pyongan Province (reference not available). According to Daily NK, the 17th NCDB is in the same ‘gun’ as the headquarters of the KPA Strategic Forces Command, at Pyungannam-do, Songchon-gun in Paekwon-ri, North Hamgyong Province.

Given the conflicting reporting but taking into consideration the weight of existing evidence, the search was centered around Onjong-ri (village), Songchon-gun (county), South Pyongan Province (39°31′29.60″N 127°21′45.96″E). The sites of interest described below were noted (Figure 28). There are several other possible military facilities within the search area, but none of them fit the likely profile expected of an NCDB Bn.

Area of Interest #1 – 39°31′37.99″N 127°21′52.08″E. AOI #1 is a small military compound on the northern outskirts of Onjong-ri. The facility comprises a central square, surrounded by vehicle sheds and support buildings, apart from a single access gate. Immediately outside of the gate is a possible vehicle inspection shed/garage, and there is a small water reservoir immediately to the southeast. Vehicles are routinely seen within the compound on available imagery. For example, imagery from November 14, 2019, shows three vehicles, each approximately 3.2 meters long. Although the quality of imagery was too poor to identify these vehicles, at least one of them appears to be military.

This is the only military-related site in the immediate vicinity of Onjong-ri, and probable military vehicles are present on all available imagery since the first available image in 2007. There are several other compounds of similar format in the vicinity, however these do not have the same degree of security and are clearly associated with agriculture.

Areaite of Interest #2 – 39°33′16.75″N 127°24′30.94″E. AOI #2 is a military complex just under 4.5 kilometers northeast of Onjong-ri, nested in the conjunction of two valleys just 2 kilometers southwest of Kumsa-ri. The complex comprises a central parade square/sports field, a headquarters/barracks building on the north side, a possible gymnasium and an unidentified support building. East of the parade square is another sports field and support building, behind which is an enclosed courtyard and a vehicle compound, which routinely contains a variety of military vehicles. Image resolution prevents identification of these vehicles, but they include flatbed trucks, box bodied vehicles and other unidentified vehicle types. Next to this compound is a probable prison.There is also a water storage facility associated with the site. It is uncertain as to whether this vehicle compound relates to the prison or to the military facility, or indeed whether the colocation of the military facility and prison signifies a link between the two.

Area of Interest #3 – 39°32′11.94″N 127°23′50.36″E. AOI #3 is at the head of a dammed reservoir, approximately 3 kilometers east-northeast of Onjong-ri. It comprises two sites, approximately 500 meters apart. The western site, constructed between 2003 and 2007, comprises a large parade square/sports pitch, headquarters/barracks, workshop, and large warehouse.

The workshop and warehouse were constructed over a long period from early 2013 to completion by mid-2016.

The eastern site comprises a series of unidentified support buildings and possible accommodation blocks, and two vehicle storage courtyards in which are located the occasional unidentified vehicle. This element of the facility was in existence at least since the first available image of 2003.

There are several other possible accommodation and storage buildings located in the immediate vicinity of this SOI.

The timings of construction, and lack of military vehicles make it unlikely to be a location for an NCDB Bn, although the western site cannot be discounted as a potential candidate.

Area of Interest #4 – 39°33′40.24″N 127°21′37.85″E. AOI 4 is a remote military facility spread along a valley 3.5 kilometers north of Onjong-ri. The site comprises six discrete areas, laid out in a similar configuration, and a seventh that probably includes an administrative support area. By mid-2025, buildings in four of the discrete areas had been removed. This site has all the hallmarks of a military training base, possibly for special forces, with assault courses, probable water training courses, and small arms ranges, and is therefore unlikely to be an NCDB Bn location.

18^th NCDB Bn – Sogam-Ri

The 18^th NCDB Bn is the second of the reportedly ‘active’ Bns, allegedly located at Sogam-ri, Pyongwon-gun, Pyongannam-do. Although no corresponding name could be identified on collateral, there is a Sogam Station located in Pyongwon County. Unusually, limited collateral exists that has been invaluable in locating this Bn.[5] Ri Chung Guk offered the following regarding the 18^th Bn, supported by a sketch illustration (Figure 35). He recalled reaching the unit by going some distance from Sogam Station, on the rail line from Sinuiju Station, bound for Kaesong. He and his guide left the road and went into the mountains. Ri spotted the unit by looking down from halfway up a slope. Leaving his vehicle at that point, Ri and his guide walked 20 minutes to reach the unit. It should be noted that there is no independent verification of this report, however the diagram and description have been used to help identify the likely location for the 18^th NCDB Bn.

A 10 kilometer radius area search centered on Sogam Station was conducted to identify all potentially military related facilities within the selected area to identify likely looking sites. These were then cross-referenced against the Ri defector report. The area is characterized by a mixture of farmland and mountainous outcrops and is highly militarized. There are a substantive number of air defense missile sites, military training and academic areas, barracks, underground and buried facilities and tunnel entrances, as well as the Sunan joint military/civilian airfield. This made positive identification of an individual unit such as the 18^th Bn a particularly challenging task. An initial list of approximately 25 sites was refined to 13 of particular interest (Table 2).

Of these, the facility that most closely matched the layout and directions given in the defectors report was No. 11. A detailed comparative analysis of the site on historical and current imagery with the defector map, description and labelling makes this a high confidence assessment that the site described by the defector is that identified on imagery. However, without further collateral, this does not confirm that this facility is or was the location of the 18^th NCDB Bn.

An overview of the facility is given on Figure 36, indicating its relative location and associated facilities according to the defector report.

Figure 37 compares a historical image from 2003 (the earliest available) with the defector report, demonstrating a strong correlation between the two. There have been several changes since this time, most notably the reconstruction of 1^st, 4^th and 5^th Companies and the replacement of the three buildings corresponding to 3^rd, 6^th and 2^nd Companies with two longer buildings.

Additionally, there has been a significant expansion of Factory 274, which occurred sometime between March 2020 and August 2022. Military vehicles have been a regular feature of this area on all available imagery since 2003 and imagery from July 10, 2025 shows four towed artillery units (possibly D-30) and three other unidentified military vehicles (Figure 39).

The only discrepancy between the defector reporting and the imagery analysis is the lack of an observed chemical complex or recruit training center on imagery at the location Ri indicated. It is possible that these facilities had been demolished between the time of his visit and the earliest available image, however there is a possible chemical complex approximately 2 kilometers south down the main road towards Sogam Station, and three possible locations of a potential training facility in the vicinity of the 18^th NCDB Bn have been identified (Figure 40).

27th NCDB Bn – Wonsan, Kangwon-do (Kangwon)

Also known as the 37^th NCDB Bn, this Bn is assumed to be collocated or associated with the Wonsan Chemical Complex. Wonsan is North Korea’s fifth largest city, located on the east coast. As a natural harbor, it has a substantial port facility and naval base. Since 2015, the city has seen significant redevelopment with the aim of transforming it into a tourist destination. A review of available imagery from 2002 has been unable to definitively identify a functional chemical complex, however there are two likely areas that may have been linked to the chemical industry at one point. Several facilities have nonetheless been identified with a profile that could potentially comprise an NCDB Bn, although there is nothing on imagery to confirm this and the existence of the 27^th NCDB Bn in the Wonsan area is assessed as low confidence. There are numerous other military facilities within a 10 kilometers radius of the city centre, however most of these have the appearance of standard military training/academic or barrack facilities.

Areas of interest have been identified as follows:

Area of Interest One – 39°09′03.08″N 127°27’23.72″E. This site is within a kilometer of one of the potential legacy locations of the Wonsan Chemical Complex. It comprises two primary secured areas, the eastern one of which includes several vehicle storage and maintenance sheds and a large courtyard area. Military and civilian vehicles are frequently seen in this area, primarily box bodied vehicles and white coaches, which are frequently used for moving troops throughout North Korea. The western area, to which there is separate access, has the appearance of a support area, with probable barracks, administrative and other support buildings. There is nothing on imagery to indicate this site as a NCDB Bn and the site is just as likely to be a military vehicle depot. Other than the air defense sites located on hill tops in the surrounding area, it is, however, the only identified non-naval military site in the immediate vicinity of the potential chemical complex locations.

Area of Interest #2 – 39°09′06.09″N 127°25’53.45″E. AOI #2 is a substantial military facility approximately 2 kilometers from the potential legacy locations of the Wonsan Chemical Complex. The site is dominated by a large parade square and likely substantial barracks accommodation. Unusually, there are two air defense sites in the immediate vicinity of the site, which could indicate a sensitive facility, however this could be coincidental due to the elevated terrain surrounding the facility, or the base could be a training facility, which could potentially include air defense training. There is nothing on imagery to indicate the presence of an NCDB Bn.

Area of Interest #3 – 39°08′34.68″N °26’06.86″E. AOI #3 is a discrete, secure site of significant interest. Although not configured as a standard military facility, it is unusually well-secured, with an external perimeter wall, internal walls, and a single gated entrance with an associated guardroom. The main feature within the complex is a tiered, multi-story building that has the appearance of a possible research and development building, although this cannot be confirmed on imagery. Occasional military vehicles are observed in the compound. Of note are two tunnel entrances nearby, linked to the site by a road. Therefore, while there is no indication of an NCDB Bn from imagery and it does not have military barracks or a parade square, it is clearly a sensitive site.

36th NCDB Bn – Sariwon Potash Fertilizer Complex

The 36^th NCDB Bn has been linked with the Sariwon Potash Fertilizer Complex. Although unconfirmed, there are two probable potential locations for this facility, both approximately 6 kilometers east of the city of Sariwon, which is the capital of North Hwanghae Province

A wide area (10 kilometers in diameter) search of the area revealed a significant number of probable military facilities, although many of these were generic.

Those with some or all the features that may be expected of a possible NCDB Bn were analyzed in more detail (labelled AOIs #1 – 6) and described below. However, with no collateral information, it was not possible to confirm a location for 36^th NCDB Bn.

Area of Interest #1 – 38°32′01.76″N 125°48’03.41″E. AOI #1 is a military barracks in the foothills of the mountains approximately 3 kilometers northeast of Sariwon City. There are several other military facilities in the vicinity, however this one stands out for several reasons. It is the only one that appears to have a dedicated vehicle parking area and military vehicles are routinely present. There is also a buried building, and a semi-buried remote building, and two possible tunnel entrances along a track leading directly from the facility.

There are also two further tunnel entrances in the hillside approximately 300 meters away (Figure 47). Therefore, while there is nothing on imagery to confirm this as an NCDB Bn location, it is a site of significant interest.

Area of Interest Two – 38°28′37.79″N 125°51’00.84″E. AOI #2 comprises two military facilities only 500 meters from one of the potential locations for the Sariwon Potash Fertilizer Complex. However, they are both of broadly standard layout and their direct connectivity to two operational air defense sites indicates that they are probably support facilities for this capability.

Area of Interest Three – 38°26′51.32″N 125°43’32.69″E. AOI #3 is a walled military compound approximately 9 kilometers east-southeast of one of the potential locations for the Sariwon Potash Fertilizer Complex. It comprises a vehicle parking and maintenance area and single multi-story probable barracks. A variety of military vehicles are routinely observed in the compound and many of these are approximately 3.6 meters in length. They could therefore be UAZ-469, although imagery quality precludes positive identification. Flatbed trailers and cabs are also regularly observed. There is nothing to indicate an NCDB Bn link and the distance from Sariwon makes this an outlier, however it is an active, self-contained facility, so this cannot be ruled out.

Area of Interest Four – 38°28′58.49″N 125°50’57.67″E. AOI #4 is a small possibly joint civil/military walled compound less than one kilometer from one of the potential locations of the Sariwon Potash Fertilizer Complex. It includes vehicle sheds, administrative and other support buildings, as well as a two two-tiered multi-story building that could be related to academics or research. There are also four probable concrete cylinders in the facility, three of which are covered and one uncovered. It is likely that they were used for storage at some point, however all now appear to be derelict. Civilian and military flatbed trucks are routinely seen in the compound.

The function of this facility is unidentified, however its location to the fertilizer complex, likely joint civilian and military function and additional infrastructure (multi-story buildings) not normally expected of a military facility, make it a site of interest.

Area of Interest Five – 38°29′17.49″N 125°49’52.55″E. This military base is located approximately 1.5 kilometers northwest of potential locations for the chemical complex and comprises three connected compounds. The main compound includes a large central open area, surrounded by probable barracks buildings. Military trucks are regularly seen in this area, although normally in small numbers. There is a separate substantial vehicle parking and maintenance area to the north of this compound. A second, separately secured, smaller compound may have been a technical support area for the main facility at one point, however, now appears to have largely been turned into an agricultural area.

The third compound is probably a headquarters, administrative and logistical support hub. The layout and size of the facility, coupled with observable probable training and small arms ranges, indicate that this is likely to be a military training base and there is no evidence of an NCDB Bn presence. However, this cannot be ruled out.

Area of Interest Six – 38°29′28.27″N 125°49’02.56″E. AOI #6 has a similar layout to AOI #5 and is located only approximately one kilometer away. It also has an open central courtyard surrounded by probable barracks buildings although is configured slightly differently in that it has a probable HQ/admin building facing this main compound. There are also a sizable military vehicle parking and storage area and a separate vehicle compound attached, with its own entrance and support area. There is a probable large vehicle inspection ramp in the compound, which may indicate this as a deeper vehicle maintenance yard.

Conclusion

The aim of this study was to determine the extent to which military sites of interest (in this case NCDB Bns) could be identified as being potentially linked to a North Korean CW program through the analysis of publicly available imagery. Given the paucity of recent open-source reporting, search areas were wide and the analysis necessarily superficial and illustrative.  However, the sites detailed above indicate the most likely identified candidates for the location of NCDB Bns. Respective locations in the vicinity of industrial chemical facilities known or suspected to be linked to a CW programme, the presence of military equipment, tunnels and bermed buildings and associated facilities were used to narrow down options, however, in the absence of more detailed collateral, only one of these potential sites (18^th NCDB Bn) has been positively identified, if defector reporting is accurate. There is nothing on imagery to confirm that this base, or any of the other potential sites still accommodate an NCDB Bn, if they once existed. Sites are all individual and there is no apparent single template or layout that marks them as having the same function, including when compared to the 18^th Bn.

A more detailed, longer-term analysis of each of these bases, supported by up-to-date collateral information would be needed to provide a higher confidence assessment about the existence, role and locations of NCDB Bns. Although outside the scope of this project, an analysis of equipment and personnel present during official parades, may confirm the existence of dedicated NBC vehicles, equipment and formations, and the identification and monitoring of discrete artillery and rocket launch training ranges may provide further indications of their existence.

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