Kim’s Diplomatic Boost, Xi’s Partner Management 

Framed around the 65th anniversary of the signing of the Treaty on Friendship, Cooperation and Mutual Assistance, readouts of the Xi-Kim summit emphasized the enduring nature of their bilateral alliance and a recommitment to building on that history into the future in both symbolic and practical ways. Given this framing, it was unlikely that highly sensitive issues, such as denuclearization or even relations with the United States, would have been on the agenda, despite coming so soon after the Trump-Xi summit in May. North Korea’s actions in the lead-up to Xi’s visit also sent strong signals that its nuclear program was off limits.

This raises questions about what each side thought it would gain from this summit. For Kim Jong Un, this visit provided multiple benefits. It served to both reflect and further boost his already elevated public profile, cultivated largely through an expanding strategic partnership with Russia and reinforced last year at China’s 80th Victory Day celebrations in Beijing, where he was showcased side by side with both Xi and Putin. Xi Jinping traveling to Pyongyang as his first overseas trip this year reinforces Kim’s growing perception of himself as a global actor helping shape the evolving multipolar order.

While commitments were made to restart exchanges across a range of sectors, North Korea’s readout of the summit focused on the political, economic and cultural aspects. There are areas where increased activity has already been in motion, especially growing trade and preparations for restarting Chinese and North Korean exchanges. Framing these practical measures, which have direct benefits to the people, within the context of summit deliverables provides Kim the ability to present them as a product of his diplomacy, helping boost his diplomatic profile to domestic audiences as well. 

Moreover, Kim’s ability to engage in high-level diplomacy with China, in Pyongyang, and on an agenda that brings tangible benefits to the people without either discussion of its nuclear program or seemingly the constraints of sanctions, moves North Korea another step closer to being accepted as a more normal country.

For China, the summit appeared to be a continuation of a process that started last year to pull North Korea back into its orbit both as a key ally in an increasingly fraught geopolitical environment, but also in case of future US-DPRK engagement. This was the catalyst for the first summits between Xi and Kim back in 2018 and is likely influencing China’s approach to North Korea now as well. How Beijing sees potential US-DPRK rapprochement at this point is unclear given the numerous challenges it faces with the US, but shoring up its alliance with Pyongyang ahead of any such scenario is certainly in its interest.

That said, despite the symbolism and pageantry of the summit, Xi and Kim do not appear to have a deep rapport with each other although they both understand the strategic value of their cooperation. Given the discrepancies in how each side framed the summit’s outcomes, there still seems to be a lot of ground to cover in rebuilding this relationship.  

Pyongyang Prioritizes Restoration of Ties, but Questions Remain 

North Korea’s coverage of Xi Jinping’s visit focused on restoring and advancing bilateral ties. Kim gave Xi and his wife a warm reception, similar to their last visit to Pyongyang in June 2019. Kim reaffirmed that relations with China were “the most important top-priority strategic work” for his country, echoing what he told visiting Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi on his April trip to Pyongyang. Xi’s first visit to the Workers’ Party Central Cadres Training School was clearly intended to highlight the two countries’ historical socialist bond and their resolve to nurture it for generations. Notably, North Korea’s readout of the Kim-Xi talks said the two leaders “reached a satisfactory consensus of views”—alignment language that was conspicuously absent from their last summit in September 2025. North Korea’s drive to improve ties likely reflects the foreign policy decisions reached at the Ninth Party Congress in February 2026.

If Kim has differences with Xi or simply wishes to maintain flexibility, the signals may lie in what North Korean media omitted rather than what they said. The alignment language marked progress, but the gap between Pyongyang’s “satisfactory consensus of views” and Beijing’s “a series of new important consensus,” may be worth noting. Moreover, North Korea’s readout acknowledged agreement to strengthen exchanges across the political, economic, and cultural fields but omitted Xi’s proposal to enhance “military affairs” exchanges. North Korean media routinely withholds details, and this was not the first time Kim and Xi agreed to expand military exchanges—they did so at their January 2019 summit—but the omission stands out given how rarely a Chinese leader makes such a proposal in public.

The summit aside, North Korea’s pre-visit posturing was equally revealing, suggesting Pyongyang was proactively positioning itself for negotiations. North Korea signaled greater alignment with China on Taiwan and Japan, Beijing’s core security concerns, while simultaneously warning Xi against raising denuclearization by showcasing its growing nuclear capabilities on the eve of his arrival. Taken together, Pyongyang appeared to be approaching this relationship from a position of greater confidence than at any point in recent years. 

It is easy to get carried away by summit fanfare and diplomatic platitudes, but a summit is only a milestone. More important is what comes next. How faithfully will the two sides implement their agreements? For example, will they take concrete steps toward “military affairs” exchanges, as Xi proposed? Will their commitments be institutionalized, as North Korea and Russia have done across all levels over the past two years? An early litmus test will be how the two countries commemorate July 11, which marks the 65th anniversary of the Treaty on Friendship, Cooperation and Mutual Assistance.  

For China, Xi’s North Korea Trip Was About Managing Relationships 

Chinese media coverage of Xi’s trip to Pyongyang was notably restrained compared to the interest evident in international news reports. State media focused largely on pageantry and familiar talking points that resemble readouts of previous summits with Kim Jong Un. Most noteworthy was what the readout omitted—any talk of denuclearization. But this is not new—China’s readout of Kim’s 2025 trip to Beijing similarly avoided the issue.

Nevertheless, it would be a mistake to interpret this muted tone as reflecting official disinterest. Given how infrequently Xi travels abroad, his decision to make the trip underscores the importance Beijing assigns to its sole formal ally, despite the complexity that has long-characterized the relationship.

Beijing entered the summit with modest expectations and likely viewed the outcome as satisfactory. While North Korea depends on various forms of Chinese support, Beijing’s interests are served simply by preserving its relationship with—and leverage over Pyongyang. Xi’s trip helped advance this objective in at least three ways.

First, it reinforced the ideological foundations of the bilateral relationship. Xi and Kim participated in a series of symbolic activities highlighting their countries’ enduring ties. Chinese state media emphasized their shared invocation of the “great spirit of the [Korean War],” during which the two fought side by side against what they still officially describe as “U.S. aggression.” The timing was particularly opportune to reinforce these messages, with 2026 marking the 65th anniversary of the China-North Korea mutual defense treaty.

Second, the summit likely helped China mitigate some of the negative impacts of North Korea’s deepening ties with Russia. Beijing does not oppose Pyongyang’s engagement with Moscow, nor does it fear being supplanted—Russia cannot replace China as North Korea’s primary economic partner, nor can it match Beijing’s capacity to provide sustained political backing. Nevertheless, Beijing is uneasy with Pyongyang cultivating a second great-power patron. It is especially concerned that closer Russia North Korea ties are strengthening defense coordination among the United States, Japan, and South Korea, which it views as a threat. In this context, direct leader-level engagement serves to mitigate any erosion of Chinese influence stemming from Kim’s warming ties with Vladimir Putin.

Finally, it is possible that Xi may have used the trip in part to preempt potential US-North Korea engagement. President Donald Trump has openly expressed interest in reengaging Kim, though Pyongyang has shown little interest in a meeting. Some observers have speculated that Trump may have raised the possibility of a meeting during his May discussions with Xi. Such prospects tend to make China’s leaders uneasy, and it’s questionable whether Xi would help facilitate a meeting. However, if Beijing anticipates the possibility of a Trump-Kim summit, it has an incentive to get ahead of it. After all, Xi did not begin meeting with Kim until 2018, after Trump first announced plans to do so. 

Closer But Not Fully Aligned—The Alliance Must Plan and Remain Vigilant

On June 8, 2026, Chinese President Xi Jinping arrived in Pyongyang for his first visit in seven years.The summit produced a lengthy list of agreements and warm rhetoric, but for policy planners, the more important question is what it reveals about the China-North Korea relationship and what it means for the US-ROK alliance.

On its face, the two sides agreed to deepen cooperation across a broad range of areas, including trade, agriculture, construction, science and technology, healthcare, education, culture, tourism, sports, and people-to-people exchanges. Xi called for injecting “powerful momentum” into bilateral ties and pledged unwavering support for Kim. Most notably, the official Chinese readout made no mention of denuclearization, perhaps due to the fact that the US may be coming to terms with this reality. This also follows various developments leading up to the summit, such as the resumption of flights and cargo delivery between the two countries, that suggest the two sides may be rebuilding the foundation of bilateral ties.

These developments, along with Xi’s recent visit, suggest the two sides are getting closer but are not fully aligned. Some initial reporting and analyses noted that while China’s readout emphasized practical state-to-state cooperation, North Korea framed the summit as a pact between equal partners. North Korea’s growing ties with Russia have also given Kim more strategic room to maneuver, reducing his reliance on China.

A common cause or crisis could change this picture rather quickly. History, for instance, offers a sobering reminder that General MacArthur’s discounting of China’s involvement during the Korean War proved catastrophically wrong. Fast forward to today, China and North Korea’s shared interests for preventing US influence in the region would likely override any gaps in their strategic alignment.

This has direct implications for the US and ROK as they undergo OPCON transfer and alliance modernization. These are not merely technical realignments of the command and-control structure; they can also function as signals for alliance credibility and readiness. If there is a combination of an escalatory crisis and closer coordination between Pyongyang and Beijing, the alliance could face a significant security challenge.

In short, the summit is a useful reminder that planners must maintain watchful eyes on Pyongyang and Beijing while considering ways to address contingencies as they move forward on implementing necessary changes to the alliance.  

Latest Xi-Kim Meeting Contrasts With Japan’s Alternative Approaches to North Korea

Chinese President Xi’s two days of meetings with North Korean leader Kim Jong Un earlier this week revealed no significant news for Japan’s stymied efforts for direct engagement with North Korea over a wide range of concerns, instead underscoring the importance of Japan’s alternative ways to address these issues through allies and partners.

North Korea’s growing diplomatic engagement with Russia and now China has resulted in a weakening of the existing sanctions regime on North Korea for its nuclear activities, but Japan continues to work with like-minded states to demonstrate that these goals have not been abandoned. Examples include the May 29 Joint Statement on DPRK Sanctions Accountability issued jointly by 10 European and Indo-Pacific states and the European External Action Service, as well as in in-person dialogues between Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi and South Korean President Lee Jae Myung in May and with President Donald Trump in March. Japan’s Foreign Ministry website lists five telephone meetings in 2026 to -date between the foreign ministers of Japan, South Korea, and the United States to coordinate North Korea policy. 

Japan’s stated goal of “complete denuclearization” of North Korea’s nuclear weapons capabilities was dealt another blow by the lack of mention of this topic in the readout of the Xi-Kim meetings, despite China’s previous support of this longstanding Japanese (and US) goal. Such a reality underscores the merit of a two-track approach to dealing with the nuclear weapons issue, as articulated in a March Stimson commentary by Professor Michiru Nishida. Under this approach, Japan continues to push for this primary goal while also working to deter North Korea’s growing nuclear weapons and missile capabilities together with its allies and partners, particularly through closer military cooperation with the United States and with South Korea. 

Another pillar of Japanese policy toward North Korea, the return of Japanese citizens abducted by North Korean agents in the 1970-80s, continues to be pursued firmly by Japanese leaders but with no acknowledgement by North Korea. Prime Minister Takaichi recently renewed this issue at a political rally on May 30, calling on Kim Jong Un to take a “courageous step” to address the matter, despite the only cases of victims being returned to Japan taking place over two decades ago in 2002. 

Japan’s continued and growing frustrations with North Korea contribute to the efforts underway in the Japanese government to update its national security strategy and related documents earlier than expected, with drafts currently being circulated and new policies expected to be announced by the end of the year. These drafts were discussed between the United States and Japan at an Extended Deterrence Dialogue (EDD) that took place as Xi and Kim met across the Sea of Japan. It is expected that the increased coordination between North Korea, China, and Russia—among other hostile actors—will be emphasized to bolster the case for Japan further increasing its spending on defense, development of enhanced military capabilities, and deepened military cooperation with like-minded states in the region and globally. 

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One overlooked dimension is Pyongyang’s effort to shape the agenda before Xi arrives. In the weeks leading up to the summit, North Korea has pursued a dual-track strategy: showing greater support for Beijing’s positions on Taiwan and Japan—issues central to China’s regional security concerns—while simultaneously warning that its nuclear status is non-negotiable. Together, these signals suggest that Pyongyang is seeking not merely improved ties with Beijing but a relationship aligned with its own strategic priorities, above all Chinese acceptance of North Korea’s nuclear status.

Context: Pyongyang-Beijing Ties After Wang Yi Visit

Although the Kim-Xi summit in Beijing in September 2025 was a first step toward repairing frayed ties, it produced little visible progress at the top leadership level. That seemed to change with Chinese Foreign Minister Wang Yi’s talks with Kim Jong Un in Pyongyang in early April, which North Korean media portrayed in unusually positive terms. Kim Jong Un told Wang that the North would “fully support all the internal and external policies” of China, and North Korean media took the rare step of reporting Kim’s explicit support for China’s “‘one-China’ principle.”

One key indicator of North Korea’s strengthened foreign policy coordination with China following the Kim-Wang meeting is an uptick in its anti-Japan rhetoric. Criticism of Japan increased after the Ninth Party Congress, reflecting a broader foreign policy adjustment, but it intensified further after Wang’s Pyongyang visit. The shift has been qualitative as well as quantitative.

This is notable because North Korea did not align itself with Beijing during the diplomatic dispute that followed Japanese Prime Minister Sanae Takaichi’s remarks on Taiwan in November 2025. North Korea regularly reported developments without explicitly endorsing China’s position. Recent commentary has gone further, however, framing Japanese security policy in ways that mirror Chinese concerns. Shortly after Wang Yi’s visit, a Party daily article blamed the Takaichi cabinet for the “steadily deteriorating” China-Japan relations, noting it has “forcibly implemented policies that provoke China’s core interests.”[1]

Siding With Beijing on Key Security Issues

In the weeks before Xi’s scheduled arrival, North Korea issued official and media commentaries on Taiwan and Japan that appeared directed at China. Although Pyongyang has long expressed support for China’s core interests, the timing and content of these statements suggest deliberate signaling than routine diplomatic solidarity.

A May 21 KCNA (Korean Central News Agency) commentary, for example, introduced a North Korean Foreign Ministry spokesperson’s comment that US arms exports to South Korea, Japan, and Taiwan constituted “a cause of ever-escalating regional military tensions including the Korean Peninsula and Taiwan Strait.” North Korea tends to mention the Taiwan Strait by citing third-party sources such as the Chinese government, but voicing concern in its own commentaries is less common. The piece also warned that such exports “can never be overlooked by the other party and it is clear that the latter will take corresponding measures.” Although the title and conclusion make clear that “the other party” refers to North Korea, the phrasing is ambiguous enough to be read as encompassing China—and perhaps as implicitly endorsing Chinese countermeasures.

A May 28 Foreign Ministry spokesperson’s “answer” to KCNA on a recent QUAD foreign ministers’ meeting led with QUAD’s targeting of “specific countries,” citing tensions in the South and East China Seas, “Japan’s moves for rearmament,” and a US bid for “a hegemonic position” in global supply chains—all issues of central concern for Beijing. Notably, QUAD’s call for “denuclearization” appeared only later in the pronouncement, in contrast to the Foreign Ministry’s 2024 and 2025 statements on QUAD, which had foregrounded that issue.

On June 3, North Korea published two signed articles. One focused on Japan’s loosening of weapons export restrictions, echoing China’s repeated criticism of the same policy. The other, by “international affairs analyst” Kim Myong Chol, criticized the evolving role of US Forces Korea and the US-South Korea alliance as targeting China and other regional adversaries, concluding:

The U.S. attempt to bolster up the collective deterrence against the anti-imperialist independent forces in the Asia-Pacific region will inevitably invite security concerns of neighboring powers and promote increased cooperation to offset it. [Emphasis added by author.]

The reference to “neighboring powers” countering US-led “collective deterrence,” coming on the eve of Xi’s visit, raises the possibility that greater security cooperation may be on the Kim-Xi summit agenda. Kim Myong Chol’s articles have occasionally foreshadowed important foreign policy themes. For example, his September 2021 commentary criticizing US and South Korean “double-dealing” preceded a broader messaging campaign centered on the same theme.

Warning Against Denuclearization

If Pyongyang’s Taiwan- and Japan-related messaging represented support for Beijing, its nuclear-themed messaging served as a warning. Even as it offered greater rhetorical solidarity, North Korea made clear that its nuclear status is non-negotiable.

Kim’s two latest appearances at a “newly-inaugurated nuclear materials production factory” and aboard the destroyer Kang Kon carried messages for multiple audiences. For the United States, South Korea, and Japan, in particular, they were a reminder that North Korea’s nuclear capabilities have grown and are intended to not only deter war but also to “fight a war.” The Kang Kon visit likely reminded them that once deployed, the ship would pose a direct threat, particularly Japan.

China, however, appears to have been the primary target of these nuclear-themed reports. The timing was striking: state media revealed Kim’s nuclear factory visit one day before Xi’s visit was officially announced, and reported the Kang Kon appearance the day after, or two days before Xi’s expected arrival. Although Beijing has not publicly mentioned denuclearization since summer 2023, Pyongyang likely remains suspicious of Chinese intentions—a suspicion probably sharpened by the US fact sheet on the May US-China summit, which stated that the two presidents “confirmed their shared goal to denuclearize North Korea.”[2]

Pyongyang has consistently rejected denuclearization since Kim publicly renounced it in September 2022, a position it reinforced by codifying continued nuclear development into the constitution in September 2023. Russia appears to have offered tacit recognition of North Korea’s nuclear status behind closed doors. At the Ninth Party Congress, North Korea also called on the United States to respect “the present position of our state specified in the Constitution of the DPRK”—a reference to that status.

At a minimum, Pyongyang appears to be seeking a clearer signal that Beijing understands denuclearization is no longer a realistic policy objective. More ambitiously, it may be pressing for tacit Chinese recognition of its nuclear status. Direct evidence is unavailable, but the timing and content of North Korea’s recent messaging are consistent with that goal.

Conclusion

Taken together, North Korea’s recent messaging suggests that Pyongyang is approaching Xi’s visit from a position of greater confidence than at any point in recent years. Rather than simply soliciting Chinese support, it appears to be leveraging its growing relevance to advance its own priorities by offering greater support for Beijing on Taiwan and Japan while pressing it to accept the reality of North Korea’s nuclear status.

Whether Beijing is willing to move in that direction remains to be seen. What does seem increasingly clear is that Xi’s visit is unlikely to yield meaningful progress on denuclearization or create new space for US-North Korea engagement. Instead, the visit may reveal how far China is willing to adapt to North Korea’s evolving posture and how both sides envision their relationship within a rapidly shifting regional security environment.

———–

[1] Un Jong Chol, “중일관계를 악화시키는 장본인은 누구인가 [Who Is the Main Culprit Behind the Deterioration of China-Japan Relations?],” Rodong Sinmun, April 16, 2026.

[2] The official Chinese readout, however, only said the US and Chinese presidents “exchanged views” on the Korean Peninsula, without any mention of North Korea or denuclearization. See “President Xi Jinping Holds Talks with U.S. President Donald J. Trump,” Chinese Ministry of Foreign Affairs, May 14, 2026, https://www.fmprc.gov.cn/eng/xw/zyxw/202605/t20260514_11910330.html.

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The presence of the partially completed building was not acknowledged by the camera angles used in the coverage and state media hasn’t identified the building, but it is possibly that of the planned Kangwon General Hospital. 

The use of a half-finished building, particularly one that was possibly intended to be a hospital, illustrates how Russian money is being used to further North Korea’s existing state projects and goals. It also shows how at least one existing state project is being recast to promote a favorable view of Russia and show North Koreans the country is getting something for sending its children off to fight a distant war. 

Background 

The project was announced by Kim Jong Un at the 10th session of the 14th Supreme People’s Assembly in January 2024, when he said, “If the Pyongyang General Hospital is completed and start its operation and a modern general hospital is built in Kangwon Province at the same time this year, models of health facilities suited to the new era will be provided.” 

When Kim delivered his policy address in Pyongyang, residential buildings occupied the plot to the west of Wonsan Kalma Airport, but within two months of the speech, most had been leveled. A commercial satellite image from March 14, 2024, shows a largely clear site with a few buildings remaining standing or under demolition. 

Figure 2a. Before the project was announced, apartments stood in the area. Image © 2026 Planet Labs, PBC cc-by-nc-sa 4.0. For media licensing options, please contact thirtyeightnorth@gmail.com; Figure 2b. Imagery from March 14, 2024 indicates many buildings have been cleared in the area. Image © 2026 Planet Labs, PBC cc-by-nc-sa 4.0. For media licensing options, please contact thirtyeightnorth@gmail.com.

North Korean state media never identified the construction site of the Kangwon General Hospital, but the plot near the airport is a likely candidate as one of the few larger scale construction projects in the Wonsan area.  

In fact, state media only appears to have mentioned the project once since Kim Jong Un’s speech. In the final line of an April 9, 2024, report on a round of agricultural visits by Premier Kim Tok Hun, it said “Earlier, the premier reviewed the process of construction of the Kangwon Provincial General Hospital on the spot and discussed and took measures to solve the problems arising in it.” 

The report does not identify the problems faced by the construction but, whatever they were, the work continued. In April, the foundation for the first building appeared on the site and in May, the building began rising. Alongside this activity, new apartment buildings were constructed on adjacent land. 

By the end of 2024, the first five floors of a large building at the center of the site had been constructed and several additional buildings had also appeared at the site. But then, as is also not unusual in North Korean construction projects, things apparently stopped. 

A large number of temporary accommodation huts for construction workers adjacent to the site were cleared between May and June 2025, signaling the crews had been redeployed elsewhere.  

Throughout 2025, no progress appears to have been made at the site and there was little movement until the run up to the groundbreaking on April 22 this year. The construction huts began reappearing in April and in an image from April 20, the stage for the groundbreaking ceremony is visible.  

Since the groundbreaking, several of the ancillary buildings built in 2024 have been demolished and the site has been cleaned up. As of late May, the site appears relatively quiet although some trucks are visible. 

Images of the planned friendship hospital indicate that the large central building constructed in 2024 will remain and rise higher to become the central building of the complex. 

The groundbreaking on the new hospital came shortly after commercial satellite imagery identified a possible new medical helipad and related building at the Wonsan-Kalma Beach Resort. The new facility is just three kilometers away from the DPRK-Russia Friendship Hospital but is directly accessible from inside the facility. 

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Executive Summary

This report on the Sunchon area is the seventh site profile exploring chemical production facilities throughout North Korea. Project Anthracite seeks to use open-source information to map out the North Korean chemical industry and its potential links to a chemical weapons programme.

The Sunchon area has historically been associated with a dual-use capacity to contribute to such a programme, but it has seen significant reconstruction over the past decade, including of the Sunchon Phosphatic Fertiliser Plant and the Sunchon C1 Chemical Facility. Both sites replaced portions of the old Sunchon Vinalon Complex, a site which from review of open sources seems to have produced many of the same materials using similar processes to those at the 8th February Vinalon Complex. In addition, this report analyses the Sunchon Pharmaceutical Factory and the Sunchon Chemical Complex.

The features and areas of the Sunchon Phosphatic Fertiliser Plant are consistent with the large-scale production of phosphatic fertilisers using both a wet and dry process. This yields lower purity phosphorus, of use primarily for agricultural fertiliser, and higher purity white phosphorus, of use for consumables but also of dual-use relevance for organophosphorus chemistry in relation to nerve agent production.

The features and areas of the Sunchon C1 Chemical Facility are consistent with the use of coal gasification to generate a wide range of hydrocarbons, including large quantities of methanol for conversion to gasoline. Yet, large areas of the site remain under construction as of February 2026.

The Sunchon Chemical Complex, as referred to in North Korean sources, appears to encompass both the Songyong Paints Factory and a Nutrient Solution Factory. The two facilities are located on different sites. The Nutrient Solution Factory is co-located with the Sunchon Pharmaceutical Plant, and its processes appear consistent with the possible provision of growth medium for antibiotic production at the Pharmaceutical Plant. The Songyong Paints Factory has features inconsistent with its reported purpose, including a higher level of security than the other chemical sites analysed in this report, and a probable helipad. It is reported to produce acrylic acid via oxidation of propylene, but a small change to this process could yield significant amounts of hydrogen cyanide (HCN).

No evidence of production related to chemical warfare agents was identified. Yet, the Sunchon area remains relevant for dual-use chemistry, including large-scale synthesis of discrete organic chemicals (DOCs) and phosphorous chemistry, despite the transition from the former Vinalon Complex to the current industry. The materials available from the Sunchon area could be of relevance to the production of nerve agents, given the close proximity of facilities producing phosphorus and DOCs, although chlorine was not identified as a product of any of the sites analysed. Additionally, the presence of methanol and ammonia at the C1 Plant and Sunchon Phosphatic Fertiliser Complex, respectively, could support the production of HCN and nitrogen mustards.

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North Korea’s solar energy sector is not only expanding at a greater scale than has been seen in recent years, the approach to solar is shifting. Several large-scale solar projects are under construction or have recently been completed. However, unlike past solar projects that were principally designed to provide electricity to the facilities where they were installed, these new projects are reportedly feeding into the larger electricity grid. As North Korea works to modernize its economy, large-scale solar energy production seems to be an important part of meeting growing energy demands.

North Korea’s Chronic Energy Shortages

North Korea has struggled with electricity shortages for decades. Escapees say that power outages are frequent, sometimes lasting days, especially in rural areas. Moreover, because the state prioritizes electricity supply for factories and the military, residences are often left literally in the dark.[1]

As the country pushes for the modernization of its economy and higher national living standards, the availability of a reliable electricity supply is becoming increasingly essential.

Things do appear to be improving. Nighttime satellite imagery shows Pyongyang has steadily gotten brighter at night over the last decade, which indicates that electricity supply is getting better.

Across the entire country, the rise is less pronounced but is still trending upwards.

Still, the supply of electricity is far from abundant. In March, when addressing delegates to the Supreme People’s Assembly, Kim Jong Un said that electricity production was one of two sectors of the economy under the greatest strain to match demand with supply. The other was coal production, which also influences power generation.

“As a matter of fact, the scope of growth of our economy can be said to be decided by the production results of the two sectors,” he said in a policy speech.

The Solar Factor

Typically in North Korea, calls to increase electricity production are mostly answered with new hydroelectric power plants. The latest of those, Tanchon Power Station numbers 1, 5 and 6, were inaugurated in mid-May after years of delays.

North Korea is well-suited to hydro power thanks to its mountainous terrain and hundreds of rivers, but hydro can’t be the only solution to satisfy growing demand. The country’s capacity to build new conventional power stations is limited, and building a nuclear energy industry, as the country often states as a goal, appears difficult. This has brought solar and wind power into greater focus to address this growing demand.

Thousands of solar panels already dot the North Korean landscape, but many appear to feed specific applications, such as powering cellular towers or providing additional electricity for administrative buildings.

Until recently, only a handful of installations have fed electricity into the power grid. The largest of those was the North Phyongan Provincial Power Distribution Station (평안북도송배전부에서). The plant was built in 2019 and consists of around 3,600 solar panels in a 1.3-kilometer line to the east of Sinuiju.

Haeju Solar Power Plant

The new plant in Haeju is significantly larger than those previously pursued. It currently consists of just over 16,000 solar panels in large 56 and 80-panel arrays.

Construction began around November of last year and was completed in just six months on a plot to the west of the city. The plant is operated by the South Hwanghae Power Transmission and Distribution Department (황해남도송배전부) and is intended to serve as a model for other solar farms.[2]

The plant has a total output of 10,000 kilowatts, which is helped by bifacial solar panels that collect direct and reflected sunlight for a 30 percent energy boost per panel, according to North Korean media.

In addition to the Haeju plant, several other large-scale solar projects are underway in the country.

Phabal, Ryanggang

A new solar farm was built in Phabal, Ryanggang province, last year. The facility has a capacity of thousands of kilowatts. The province is now planning to build another solar power station with a capacity of “tens of thousands of kilowatts” in the province, according to state media. If the province succeeds, it could be larger than the Haeju plant.

Samgwang Solar Farm

In Samgwang, Unjon County, North Phyongan province, a solar farm was constructed as part of an entire facelift of the village that included numerous new buildings and the establishment of a livestock farm. Approximately 800 panels are arranged on a hillside to the north of the town.

Pyongsong, South Phyongan

The South Phyongan Solar Power Plant (평안남도태양빛발전소) saw several hundred solar panels constructed along the riverbank in Pyongsong in mid-2024. Like Ryanggang, the project is seen as a step towards a larger future plant. In the case of South Phyongan, it will have a capacity of “thousands of kilowatts,” according to state media.

Hamhung, South Hamgyong

In Hamhung, a solar power station has been constructed along the bank of the River Songchon. The facility consists of 58 solar arrays along approximately 750 meters of the eastern riverbank.

Nearby, two smaller solar power stations sit in front of the provincial sci-tech library and along the short in nearby Soho 1-dong. State media says the province is also adding solar to the Hamhung Youth Power Station No. 1, although to-date that does not appear to have happened.

Future Grid-Attached Solar

On April 4, Rodong Sinmun, North Korea’s Party daily newspaper, carried an article highlighting ongoing work to develop grid-attached solar.[3]

It laid out several advantages to solar plants over current hydro and thermal plants, including that sunshine is the only fuel, and,once running, requires less upkeep than existing hydro and thermal plants because there are no moving parts.

However, the article did note that a key issue will be keeping the plants operating efficiently in the future.

As with most things in North Korea, the renewable energy projects were framed around an instruction from Kim Jong Un.

《풍력과 조수력, 생물질과 태양에네르기에 의한 전력생산을 늘이며 자연에네르기의 리용범위를 계속 확대하여야 합니다.》

“We must increase power generation from wind, tidal, biomass, and solar energy, and continue to expand the range of natural energy utilization.”

Kim delivered that instruction almost exactly a decade ago, in May 2016, so the work is well overdue.

The article also mentioned plans for a solar farm that will dwarf the Haeju plant, if constructed as planned. It said Kumhwa Mine in North Hwanghae province built a small-scale solar plant last year to provide lighting for buildings, very much in line with most previous solar installations. However, the mine is now planning to build a 100-kilowatt solar farm this year.

Conclusion

North Korea has been pursuing a more plentiful supply of electricity for years and appears to be having modest success in increasing supply. The new solar stations are a further step in that direction, although the country also needs to focus on efficient distribution of power through a modernized electricity grid.

Kim Jong Un was correct when he said that electricity supply is underpinning his ambitious goals to modernize the North Korean economy. As the state pushes digitization and as the service industry expands to give more citizens access to leisure activities, greater supply of power will be essential.

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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.

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