The world knew North Korea through a series of grotesque, almost cartoonish images: goose-stepping soldiers in oversized hats, hysterical newsreaders in pink dresses, grainy photos of missile tests that seemed to fail as often as they succeeded. To the analysts in Seoul and Washington, the Korean People’s Army was a "museum army," a hollow force of starving conscripts armed with rusting, 1950s-era junk. It was a paper tiger, formidable only in its sheer, brutish numbers and its proximity to Seoul. This perception, cultivated over decades of predictable propaganda and apparent technological backwardness, was both comforting and profoundly wrong. For behind the caricature lay a singular, seventy-year-old obsession, a state ideology of "military-first" so absolute that it had hardened the entire nation into a single, vast, semi-functional arsenal.
In a deep, granite cavern south of Pyongyang, a facility invisible to all but the most sophisticated bunker-busting weapons, a North Korean general walked past his life's work. The air was cool and smelled of grease and aged steel. Endless rows of 152mm howitzer shells, stacked ten crates high, disappeared into the man-made darkness, a forest of dormant destruction. He ran a gloved finger over the markings on a crate. The stencil read ‘1976.’ He felt a swell of pride. For decades, his predecessors had followed the simple, unwavering command of the Great Marshal: build more guns, build more shells. They had followed it even when the country starved in the Arduous March, when they kept the munitions factories running even as the hospitals went dark. While the Americans were building a few expensive silver bullets, they had patiently, decade after decade, built a mountain of simple, effective iron. Now, the supposedly advanced superpower that had once been their patron was coming to them, begging for the contents of their museum. The General smiled. The museum was now the world’s most important arsenal.
This arsenal was a mirror image of the nation itself: technologically antiquated, crude, but immense in scale and singular in its purpose. The bedrock of its power was its artillery, thousands of self-propelled guns and multiple rocket launchers, the densest concentration of firepower on earth, permanently deployed along the DMZ with the explicit goal of turning Seoul into a "sea of fire." But beyond the guns were the missiles. North Korea possessed a vast and varied arsenal of short-range ballistic missiles, weapons that Western intelligence agencies often dismissed as mere terror weapons. Now, on the battlefields of Ukraine, they were getting a live-fire demonstration. Missiles like the KN-23—a solid-fueled, quasi-ballistic missile deliberately designed to mimic Russia’s own Iskander—were being fired by the dozen at Ukrainian cities, battle-testing their guidance systems and giving North Korean scientists invaluable data on their performance against modern air defenses.
The narrative culminated not on a battlefield, but in two moments of stunning contrast. The first was in a muddy trench near Bakhmut, where a Russian commander, who months earlier had been rationing shells, now screamed orders to his crews, who were firing hundreds of rounds a day. The ground around them was a mess of spent, crudely marked North Korean casings. They were winning the firepower war again. The second was a television screen in a bar in Seoul. The news was showing the handshake between Putin and Kim. But then it cut to a live feed of an air-raid siren wailing in Kharkiv, Ukraine, followed by the familiar orange flash of an incoming missile. A young man at the bar looked up from his beer. The missile on the screen looked eerily, sickeningly, like one of the missiles he had seen in his own country’s air defense drills. It was a missile from the hermit kingdom's arsenal, but it was exploding in a city 4,000 miles away. The devil's bargain wasn't a future threat. It was already a lethal, bloody reality.
51.1 The "Guns over Butter" State: An Arsenal Born of Ideology
The reason North Korea was able to become Russia’s indispensable partner is rooted in the unique, seventy-year history of its state development. Since its founding, the DPRK has been the world's purest example of a "guns over butter" state. Governed by the state ideology of Juche (self-reliance) and, more formally since the 1990s, by the Songun ("military-first") policy, the regime has prioritized the development and sustenance of its armed forces and munitions industry above all other national concerns. This singular focus, pursued even at the cost of the catastrophic famine of the "Arduous March" and chronic economic failure, has resulted in a profoundly asymmetric national profile: a society and economy that are impoverished and failing, fused to a military-industrial complex that is immense and singularly productive within its narrow technological niche. See [citation 1]. While its technology is largely antiquated, based on Soviet and Chinese designs from the 1950s and 60s, its fanatical devotion to military mass has created one of the largest standing armies and, most critically for Russia, one of the deepest conventional munitions stockpiles on earth.
51.2 An Arsenal of Asymmetry: Quantity over Quality
The Korean People's Army (KPA) is a force designed for a single, overwhelming purpose: to obliterate South Korea, particularly the capital of Seoul, in the opening hours of a conflict with a deluge of massed, conventional firepower. This doctrine has shaped its arsenal accordingly. Its core strength lies in its artillery. As of 2023, the International Institute for Strategic Studies estimated the KPA possessed over 21,000 artillery pieces, including thousands of 170mm Koksan self-propelled guns and 240mm multiple rocket launchers, many of them hardened and pre-positioned in caves along the DMZ. See [citation 2]. These are the systems that produce the 152mm and 122mm shells and rockets that Russia so desperately needs. Beyond artillery, the KPA has developed a vast and increasingly sophisticated arsenal of short-range ballistic missiles (SRBMs), such as the KN-23, KN-24, and KN-25. These solid-fueled, maneuverable missiles, often referred to by analysts as "Kim's Iskanders," have become a critical component of the arms transfers, providing Russia with a fresh supply of precision-strike weapons to terrorize Ukrainian cities and circumvent its own depleted missile stocks. See [citation 3].
51.3 A Perfect, Terrible Synergy: "Shells for Satellites"
The Russo-North Korean arms deal that coalesced in 2023 is a case of perfect, terrible synergy, born from the complementary deficiencies of two pariah states. The title of this chapter, "Shells for Satellites," encapsulates the brutal simplicity of the transaction. Russia, a technologically advanced military power, found itself in a protracted attritional war it had not planned for, creating a desperate shortage of the low-end, mass-produced munitions it could no longer manufacture at scale. North Korea possessed a vast mountain of these very munitions but desperately lacked the high-end technology required to perfect its own strategic weapons programs—the key to its long-term survival. The bargain was thus ruthlessly logical: Putin trades away Russia's future technological superiority to solve his present battlefield crisis; Kim trades away his country's past (its vast, aging artillery stockpiles) to acquire the technology for his regime’s future. It is a devil's bargain in which both sides believe they are getting the better end of the deal. See [citation 4]. This transaction, however, is not a simple exchange. By supplying Russia, North Korea also gains an invaluable, unprecedented opportunity: the live-fire testing of its missile arsenal against the world’s most advanced Western-made air defense systems in a real-world combat environment, providing its scientists with a treasure trove of performance data that money could never buy.