Should North Korean refugees be recruited to become human rights advocates? Why do most North Korean refugees avoid public advocacy? How can we empower their voices without imposing external agendas? And what does it take for a North Korean refugee to naturally transition into advocacy?
These were the questions I wrestled with while reading the papers presented by Park So-keel and Shin Hyo-sook at the Korea Hana Foundation's 2024 International Seminar on November 19. Both papers were well-researched, logical, and rooted in valuable insights. They highlighted the potential of North Korean refugees to make a global impact, and for the past 12 years, I have been involved with making that happen. Yet, I found myself disagreeing with the premise that North Korean refugees should be actively recruited to become human rights advocates.
In my response, I focused on three main points. First, I questioned whether most North Korean refugees even want to be advocates. Second, I emphasized the importance of balancing advocacy with autonomy and authenticity. Third, I reflected on the limitations of advocacy as a broader strategy.
The assumption that North Korean refugees are eager to become human rights advocates doesn't align with my experience. Since 2013, over 600 North Korean refugees located in various countries — including South Korea, the United States, Canada, Italy, France and the UK — have studied English and public speaking at Freedom Speakers International (FSI), the organization I co-founded with Lee Eun-koo. Their reasons for learning English are diverse and deeply personal. Many refugees prioritize education, aiming to succeed in South Korean universities or gain professional skills. Others see English as a tool to advance their careers, improve their independence, or build confidence. Only a small number express a desire to engage in public speaking or advocacy.
When refugees do engage in public speaking, their motivations vary. Some aim to raise awareness about North Korea, while others focus on personal storytelling, which allows them to share the experiences of loved ones. For many, public speaking serves as a form of therapy, helping them process trauma and heal. It is also a way to build self-confidence and find a sense of identity. Advocacy against the North Korean regime is just one of many possible outcomes, and it is far from the most common.
While advocacy has its place, it must not overshadow the personal goals and autonomy of North Korean refugees. Many North Koreans who escape begin their journeys as refugees, focused on survival rather than activism. Over time, some transition into defector-advocates. In freedom, free to read any book, watch videos, meet and talk with people, they learn more about North Korea's systemic oppression. However, this transformation is deeply personal and should not be rushed.
One of the most remarkable examples I've witnessed is my co-author, Han Song-mi. For her first nine years in South Korea, she was largely invisible. Today, she is a public speaker who has addressed audiences at Harvard University and the Geneva Summit for Human Rights and Democracy. Whereas she was once silent, she now encourages other refugees to share their stories. Song-mi's journey illustrates the importance of patience. When North Korean refugees are given time and space to grow, many naturally become effective advocates. Conversely, when pressured into advocacy roles prematurely, they risk losing their authenticity and credibility.
On average, it takes North Korean refugees, after they are living in freedom, 11 years to publish a memoir in English. This timeline reflects the time they need to process their experiences, adjust to life in freedom, and develop the skills and confidence required to share their stories publicly. There are many more North Korean refugees who haven't published their memoirs, for a variety of reasons.
Despite the long timeline for North Korean refugees to speak out, there is a constant demand by media, academics, and NGOs for "new" stories. The ultimate dream is for a reporter to interview Kim Jung-un, after he escapes, about the DMZ. This obsession with novelty overlooks the contributions of refugees who have already stepped forward as speakers, authors, and advocates, but who may have escaped a decade ago or longer. One thing that has baffled me is the constant search for new stories instead of supporting the handful that have already told their stories and may be ready for activism.
While advocacy is a powerful tool, it has limitations. Advocacy alone cannot address the structural challenges facing North Korean refugees or dismantle the Kim regime's control. Moreover, advocacy efforts are often shaped by external agenda. Governments, NGOs, and academics frequently ask refugees to speak on topics they may not be comfortable with or have no personal connection to. This can dilute the authenticity of their voices and make them appear as "paid propagandists."
At FSI, we have conducted 20 English speech contests with about 150 speeches by North Korean refugees in English. They can choose their topics freely. Few speeches have focused on human rights, unification, or North Korea's leadership. Most North Korean refugees prefer to discuss their personal journeys, struggles, and adjustments to life in freedom. This freedom to choose ensures that their voices remain genuine and authentic.
The papers presented at the Hana Foundation seminar were by my colleagues concerned about North Korean refugees. My point of disagreement is with the rush to recruit newcomers and to present most North Korean refugees as potential human rights advocates. Advocacy should be an option, not an expectation, to create space for authentic voices to emerge naturally.
Casey Lartigue Jr. (CJL@alumni.harvard.edu) is the co-founder of Freedom Speakers International with Lee Eun-koo and co-author with Han Song-mi of her memoir "Greenlight to Freedom: A North Korean Daughter's Search for Her Mother and Herself."