Escape from Camp 14

The Tumen River comprises roughly a third of the border separating North Korea and China. It is a narrow, shallow stretch of water that often ices over in winter, and guards are sparse. Shin heard about it from other traders but he did not learn where to make the crossing or what bribes to offer the guards. He therefore traveled to a rail junction about 25 miles away from the border and started questioning some locals.

One elderly gentleman said that his life had been much better in China (he had been arrested there and sent back to North Korea), and he went on to spend half the day elaborating on this topic while advising Shin on how to cross the river and how to behave at checkpoints. Shin encountered his first checkpoint the next morning, and he bribed the guard with some cigarettes. He continued to bribe his way towards China and, though he did not know it, he was lucky: at that time it was relatively easy to pass illegally into China.

Following the devastating famine of the 1990s, North Korea had been forced to endure a permeable border with China. This became semi-official in 2000, when North Korea offered lenience to those who had fled to China in the wake of food shortages. By this point, traders had also begun traversing the border, supplying food and goods to the markets that had all but replaced the government’s distribution system. This offer of lenience was life-changing: in rural areas of North Korea, a greater number of people could now be seen wearing warm winter coats. Private markets also began selling Chinese television sets and video players, disseminating Hollywood movies and glamorous South Korean soap operas. The police attempted to impede these new luxuries by cutting off electricity and raiding apartments.

During the time Shin and Park were formulating their escape plan, the North Korean government concluded that the border with China had become too porous. It was also angered when Congress passed a law accepting North Korean refugees for resettlement in the United States—an act that it saw as a political attack. Border policing became more stringent in 2004, and North Korea announced a harsh program of punishment for anyone caught crossing the border illegally. When Shin crossed the border in January 2005, he was fortunate in that this new regime had not yet extended to the soldiers patrolling the border. He was therefore able to take advantage of the last opportunity for low-risk passage into China, setting out onto the ice that had frozen over the river. 

Shin encountered more border control officers in China, but they did not seem interested in his presence. He had learned from traders that there were ethnic Koreans living in the border region and his aim was to seek out shelter, food, and work there. He was turned away by several people, one of whom had been warned by the police not to help North Koreans. Eventually, he found a farmer who had previously employed North Korean defectors. They had been good workers, and the farmer was therefore willing to provide Shin with lodging and employment. Shin saw this as a new beginning, as he was no longer a snitch, a prisoner, or a fugitive—now, he had a proper job.

The capacity of this borderland to absorb North Koreans is “significantly underappreciated” (147) outside of Northeast Asia. Migrants who enter China often encounter ethnic Koreans who share the same language and culture. The prospects of finding work and shelter are therefore promising, and this has been the case since the 1860s, another period of famine in North Korea. Farmers subsequently fled to China, and the imperial government recruited them to form a buffer against Russian expansion. Prior to World War II, the Japanese occupying the Korean Peninsula and Northeast China also pushed tens of thousands of Korean farmers across the border in order to weaken China’s hold on the region.

Today, nearly two million North Koreans live in the three northeast provinces of China. Korean speakers residing in northeast China have also brought about changes within North Korea, as they smuggle video-CDs of South Korean soap operas into the country. Watching these programs is illegal, but this has not stopped them from gaining a big following. Their appeal—and, from the government’s perspective, their danger— lies in their depictions of South Korea as glamorous and affluent, depictions that contradict the North Korean government’s claims that the South is a poor, repressed, and unhappy place.

For the past half century, the governments of North Korea and China have employed their security forces cooperatively to ensure that China does not become inundated with North Korean migrants. According to the South Korean government, an agreement signed in 1986 stipulates that China must send migrants back home, where they are often arrested, imprisoned, and tortured. However, by imprisoning its citizens, North Korea is reneging on a 1966 international agreement that states, “Everyone shall be free to leave any country, including his own” (149). China likewise ignores a pledge it made as part of a 1951 international refugee convention. North Korea and China are thus contravening international law.

Were North Korean migrants to flood into China, North Korea would face mass depopulation and the Chinese government would have to deal with an influx of impoverished refugees. This would not only increase the existing levels of poverty in China’s northeast provinces, but potentially signal a regime collapse in North Korea. This, in turn, would bring about unification of the Korean Peninsula under a Seoul-based government closely allied with the United States. Additionally, China would lose a vital buffer between one of its poorest regions and “a united, affluent and West-oriented Korea” (149). Such an event could provoke nationalist sentiments among ethnic Koreans occupying the Chinese borderlands.

North Korea and China therefore seek to maintain border control, yet, as Shin found, many individuals are willing to overlook the rules in exchange for bribes. Shin consequently embarked on his new life at the farm, yet the arrangement turned sour within the space of a month. Shin had met two other defectors, and, at his request, the farmer agreed to help them out. Nevertheless, he did so reluctantly. The defectors soon departed, but the farmer told Shin that he had resented having to give shelter to three North Koreans. He consequently told Shin that he too would have to leave, but he knew of another suitable job tending livestock in the mountains.

Shin spent the next 10 months in the mountains, and he benefited from access to a radio that broadcast news reports that were critical of North Korea. Some of these stations are run by defectors, and they devote considerable attention to the comfortable lives that defectors experience in South Korea. Within North Korea, the penalty for listening to these stations is up to 10 years in a labor camp, but between 5% and 20% of North Koreans tune in regardless. Shin, however, had been out of the loop in Camp 14 and struggled to make sense of what he was hearing.

Shin heard on the radio that Korean churches in China sometimes help defectors and, in late 2005, he decided to seek out friendly North Koreans in the hope of finding a stable job; by this point, he had given up all hope of reaching South Korea. Traveling in China was much easier than traveling in North Korea; no one asked to see his identification papers, and he set about looking for work once he reached Chendu, a destination he had picked randomly. However, when he appealed for help at various churches, he was given money but turned away. As the pastors informed him, it was illegal for them to harbor defectors.

Shin then returned to Beijing, but he was not discouraged—food was the most important thing, and it was plentiful in China. In February 2006, he managed to obtain a job in a Korean restaurant in Hangzhou but the work was grueling and he quit after 11 days. He looked for similar work in Shanghai, but, when he made enquires about employment at a Korean restaurant, he was told that there were no jobs available. However, the waitress directed him towards a customer man who was from Korea. Shin approached the man, who proceeded to ask Shin various questions about his life. This man, it transpired, was a journalist; specifically, a Shanghai-based correspondent for a South Korean media company.

As they left the restaurant, the man hailed a cab and took Shin to the South Korean Consulate. Several police cars and uniformed officers were stationed around the building, as the Beijing government has been trying (with considerable success) to stop North Koreans from rushing into foreign embassies. The journalist told the police that he and his friend had business inside, and they were let through. Shin started to relax but he still did not feel safe, as the concept of diplomatic immunity was foreign to him.

The South Korean officials were helpful and, after six months, the necessary paperwork had been processed and Shin flew to Seoul. Upon arrival, the National Intelligence Service took a keen interest in Shin, who told his life story in a series of interrogations that lasted a month.