North Korea sends soldiers to Ukraine under self-detonation orders

The Memorial and the Pact: A Public Embrace of Sacrifice

The images released by Russia’s Defense Ministry last weekend were carefully orchestrated: Andrei Belousov, Moscow’s defense minister, standing alongside Kim Jong Un at a memorial in Pyongyang dedicated to North Korean soldiers killed in Ukraine. The location, the Kumsusan Palace of the Sun, is a site central to the regime’s cult of martyrdom. The ceremony appeared designed to underscore the significance of North Korea’s military involvement in the conflict, with both leaders framing the soldiers’ deaths as part of a broader struggle.

Belousov’s remarks during the visit reinforced this message. We agreed with the DPRK Defense Ministry to place our military cooperation on a stable, long-term footing, he stated, referencing North Korea’s official name. The proposed agreement, spanning 2027 to 2031, suggests both nations are preparing for an extended conflict in Ukraine. The timing of the pact’s announcement, made in the presence of a memorial honoring troops who fought in the Kursk region, further emphasized the symbolic weight of the alliance.

The memorial itself was not an impromptu gesture. Kim Jong Un has systematically elevated the soldiers who died in Kursk, portraying their deaths as a noble sacrifice in service of a larger cause. A handwritten message attributed to him at the site declared, *The souls of the fallen will live forever with the great honor they defended.* The language aligns with North Korea’s long-standing propaganda, which frames martyrdom as a tool of regime legitimacy. However, the context here is distinct: these soldiers were not defending North Korea’s borders but fighting in a foreign war on behalf of Russia.

The “Self-Blasting” Policy: A Tactic or a Narrative?

Bloomberg’s reporting introduced the term “self-blasting” to describe North Korea’s reported approach to deploying troops in Ukraine, though the specifics remain unverified. Some officials and analysts have suggested it refers to a tactic where soldiers are expected to use explosives rather than surrender or retreat. If confirmed, such a directive would reflect an extreme form of battlefield discipline, though evidence supporting its existence is limited.

The available information is sparse. Only two North Korean soldiers have been captured by Ukrainian forces, and neither has publicly detailed such a policy. South Korean intelligence estimates, referenced in media reports, indicate that as many as 2,000 North Korean troops may have been killed in Ukraine, but the circumstances of their deaths remain unclear. The “self-blasting” label could serve as a narrative device, framing battlefield losses as acts of heroism rather than tactical failures, which aligns with Pyongyang’s broader messaging on sacrifice and loyalty.

What is better documented is the scope of North Korea’s military support for Russia. Beyond manpower, Pyongyang has supplied missiles and munitions, reportedly receiving financial aid, military technology, and energy supplies in return. The arrangement is transactional but also carries strategic implications. For Kim Jong Un, the war in Ukraine offers an opportunity to test military capabilities, gather intelligence, and strengthen ties with a major power. For Russia, North Korea’s support provides critical resources as Western sanctions tighten and domestic manpower shortages persist.

Belousov’s visit to Pyongyang was not solely about honoring the dead. It was also a step toward formalizing a relationship that both countries view as mutually beneficial. The proposed 2027-2031 defense pact, which Belousov indicated would be finalized this year, signals that this alliance is intended to be more than a temporary arrangement. It reflects a long-term commitment to collaboration in a geopolitical landscape where authoritarian regimes increasingly align against Western influence.

The Human Cost: Soldiers as Expendable Assets

The most troubling aspect of North Korea’s involvement in Ukraine is the human toll. The soldiers deployed to the Kursk region are conscripts, drawn from a population with no meaningful choice in their participation. Their deaths are not mourned as individual losses but repurposed as propaganda, their sacrifice framed as a testament to the regime’s strength.

Kim Jong Un’s handwritten message at the memorial—*The souls of the fallen will live forever with the great honor they defended*—highlights how North Korea views its soldiers. They are not treated as individuals with families and futures but as instruments of state power, their value measured by their willingness to die. If the reported “self-blasting” directive exists, it would represent the logical extension of this philosophy, where retreat is framed as a greater failure than death.

For Russia, the calculus is similarly pragmatic. Facing manpower shortages, Moscow has turned to foreign fighters, including mercenaries from the Wagner Group and recruits from Syria. North Korean troops are the latest addition to this patchwork force, a stopgap measure in a war that has drained Russia’s resources. The willingness to accept—and even honor—North Korean soldiers who may have been ordered to die rather than surrender underscores the desperation of Russia’s position. It also suggests that these troops are viewed as expendable, a means to an end in a conflict with no clear resolution.

The Kursk region, where many of these soldiers fought, has become a symbol of both sides’ determination. Ukraine’s 2024 counteroffensive briefly seized territory there before being repelled by Russian forces. The area remains contested, and the presence of North Korean troops highlights Russia’s reliance on external support to sustain its war effort. The memorial in Pyongyang, where Belousov and Kim embraced, serves as a public acknowledgment of that reliance—and a signal that more North Korean soldiers may follow.

What This Alliance Signals for the War—and Beyond

The deepening military cooperation between Russia and North Korea reflects broader shifts in the geopolitical landscape. The proposed 2027-2031 defense pact, if finalized, would formalize an alliance that has been building for years. It would also send a message to the West: that authoritarian regimes are increasingly willing to collaborate in ways that challenge the existing global order.

For North Korea, the benefits are tangible. The country gains access to advanced military technology, financial aid, and a powerful ally that can help mitigate the impact of international sanctions. For Russia, the arrangement provides a steady supply of weapons and troops, as well as a partner that shares its adversarial stance toward the United States and its allies. Both countries have framed their cooperation as a defense of “sovereignty” and territorial integrity, language designed to resonate with their domestic audiences and justify their actions on the world stage.

However, the alliance carries risks. For North Korea, deploying troops to Ukraine is a gamble. The country’s military has limited experience in large-scale conventional warfare, and its soldiers may be ill-prepared for modern combat. The high casualty estimates—South Korean intelligence suggests 2,000 dead—hint at the toll the war is taking on North Korean forces. For Russia, reliance on foreign fighters could backfire if those troops prove ineffective or if their presence further isolates Moscow internationally.

The broader geopolitical implications are significant. The Russia-North Korea alliance is part of a larger trend: the rise of a multipolar world where authoritarian regimes collaborate to counter Western influence. China’s support for Russia, Iran’s provision of drones to Moscow, and North Korea’s military aid all point to a shift in the global balance of power. These partnerships are not rooted in shared ideology but in mutual self-interest—a willingness to challenge the status quo to advance their own objectives.

For the United States and its allies, this presents a challenge. The West has long relied on sanctions and diplomatic pressure to isolate regimes like North Korea and Russia. But as these countries deepen their ties, those tools may become less effective. The proposed 2027-2031 defense pact suggests that Russia and North Korea are planning for a future where they are not just allies but strategic partners, united by a shared interest in undermining Western dominance.

The trajectory of the war in Ukraine will shape what comes next. If Russia’s manpower shortages persist, it may seek even greater support from North Korea. If North Korea’s military gains experience in Ukraine, it could emerge as a more formidable adversary in future conflicts. And if the West fails to counter this alliance effectively, it could embolden other authoritarian regimes to pursue similar partnerships.

For now, the memorial in Pyongyang stands as a stark reminder of the human cost of this alliance. The soldiers honored there were not fighting for their own country but for Russia’s war, their lives repurposed as propaganda in a conflict with no end in sight. The reported “self-blasting” directive, if real, underscores the extremes to which both regimes may be willing to go. And the proposed 2027-2031 defense pact signals that this is not a temporary arrangement but the foundation of a new strategic reality.