The ten step plan to become a North Korea expert

Keep it grim and keep it alarming, but make sure every prediction is matched by a vague, hedging escape clause.

So, you completed your liberal arts degree and discovered there were no jobs. You enrolled in a master’s degree in international studies and at the halfway point with poor grades, realized there are still no jobs. What do you do?

For most people, this is a choice between a few dismal possibilities: a PhD; a government job in a department no one wants to be; or teaching English overseas with no passion and heart. For others, it’s a calling. A noble calling. A calling most often proclaimed before it’s pursued. A calling that starts with one all-encompassing phrase: “I’m a North Korea Expert!”

Congratulations! By proclamation alone, you’re now a “North Korea Expert”. What’s next???

Now, I previously spewed out advice for young North Korea watchers. Nobody listened, but all the same, I’m here putting together some advice for those sitting amidst dismal possibilities but still knowing their path is to be a North Korea expert. This’ll get you started…

Step 1. Book a 5-day tour to North Korea. Nothing sharpens your analytical acumen on a totalitarian state quite like a 5-day, pre-packaged tour where you're chauffeured between museums, gas-fuelled oyster binges, and interactions with eerily synchronized schoolchildren, while under the watchful eye of a guide whose smile says “welcome” but eyes say “more of these foreign cretins”.

You’ll return home with a newfound expertise on staged performances, censored interactions, and claggy soups. It’s immersive theater for the aspiring expert: five days in the Hermit Kingdom and you, too, can publish authoritative op-eds on regime stability based on the shine of brass statues and the visible normality of everyday life - in fact, you could get a book; a documentary, or some hard-hitting views on your YouTube channel as well.

Step 2. Read KCNA every day. Learn the sacred art of deciphering North Korea’s state media. It’ll go something like this:

“Respected Comrade Kim Jong Un personally guided a successful test of the [highly expressive adjective] [weapon] against the backdrop of [highly expressive adjective] maneuvers during a [U.S. diplomatic action] insulting the [highly expressive adjective] peace-loving state.”

Don’t worry if you don’t understand what they’re actually saying and who they’re saying it to. Nobody really does. It’s all uncertain and open to debate. The key is to say it “raises questions” and then start making predictions.

Step 3: Start making predictions. You’re not here to solve anything. You’re here to “raise awareness,” “spark debate,” and maybe get a consulting gig or two. Clarity kills careers. Ambiguity keeps you in the game. And remember: the DPRK is a mirror. The more you stare at it, the more you’re really just projecting yourself.

Keep it grim and keep it alarming, but make sure every prediction is matched by a vague, hedging escape clause. Say things like:

• Kim Jong-un may soon unveil a new initiative aimed at revitalizing key economic sectors. However, the details and implications remain unclear and could shift depending on internal priorities.

• A major military parade is expected to take place in Pyongyang to showcase new weapons systems. Still, it is uncertain whether this signals an escalation or merely routine signaling.

• Kim Jong-un is consolidating power through personnel reshuffles in the top ranks. But the long-term impact on policy direction remains to be seen.

• North Korea could re-engage diplomatically in response to changing regional dynamics. That said, any substantive outcomes will likely depend on a complex set of evolving factors.

These are perfect because they can never be proven wrong. And if someone does later point out that you were in fact incredibly way off the mark, note that you did indicate that it depended on…

Step 4: Pick a narrative. Decide what kind of North Korea watcher you want to be. Are you here to prove the regime is on the verge of collapse (any day now, for the last 30 years)? Are you here to cry for human rights while ignoring research on the ineffectiveness of sanctions you quietly support? Or perhaps you prefer the sneaky realist chickenhawk aesthetic—manage risk, maintain regional stability, deter aggression, disrupt any serious change to the status quo, and promote the purchase of many, many U.S. weapons that you or your family have invested in. Learn the narrative and start rehashing it…

For bonus points, remember to run with a parallel oft-repeated sub-narrative that disses other members of the community. Try one or more of these:

• The Washington blob doesn’t understand Seoul (this is one of my favorites).

• You have to speak Korean to understand Korea.

• You need government experience to understand policy.

• You need to visit North Korea to really understand the country.

Pick your lens and never let reality shake it. Flexibility is weakness!

Step 5: Read a bit… not too much. Pick up all the “essential” texts. Read Bruce Cumings. They’re really thick and kind of boring, so just repeat what others say about them. Skim Lankov for that gruff Russian credibility, or again, just nod and repeat “Oh, yeah…” when others fawn over his works. Read and then name-drop Victor Cha everywhere, if you want to work in Washington. Never mind that most of the books contradict each other—it’s all about the vibes.

Oh, and don’t forget to reference Orwell at least once per op-ed. Ideally while comparing Pyongyang to 1984, like it’s never been done before. Bonus points if you can compare both Pyongyang and Washington to fictional worlds by past authors.

Step 6: Start spewing out the op-eds. The more the merrier! If there’s one thing the North Korea watching community truly needs, it’s more op-eds—what better way to signal expertise than by shouting into the policy void with another 800-word piece about how Kim Jong-un is either about to collapse, about to launch a war, or about to be contained through clever diplomacy—depending on the week’s mood?

Think tank funding doesn’t renew itself, and North Korea expertise doesn’t grow on trees. There’s no better way to stay relevant than to restate last year or last decade’s analysis with a fresh headline and a few references to AI or great power competition. Besides, policymakers clearly read every single think piece on North Korea and act on them immediately, right? So by all means—write more op-eds. The peninsula’s future depends on it.

Step 7: Learn to milk every crisis. Whether it’s a missile launch, border skirmish, balloon incident, or haircut rumor—this is your moment. Get on TV. Write that op-ed. Say “the world is watching” and “this could be a turning point.” If it’s a really big event, usually once every five years or so, declare that “war is imminent!”

Always sound concerned. Never admit that you’ve seen this exact pattern at least 12 times before. Later, on social media, share the bonhomie with other North Korea watchers about “never being off-duty” and how “North Korea loves ruining American holidays.”

Step 8: Enter the ecosystem of experts, grifters, and think tank philosophers. Now it’s time to elbow your way into the North Korea watching ecosystem.

Attend conferences. Nod thoughtfully. Ask loaded questions. It’s better if those questions contain a long introductory statement expounding your knowledge or recent publications.

Take selfies with the conference organizers and VIP visiting speakers. Write long social media threads about the incredibly insightful revelations you received at the conference. If any one of those conference organizers or VIP visiting speakers passes to the great thinktank in the sky, be sure to again post your selfie with them on social media and note how much you learnt from them.

Step 9: Get a regular gig with an unintentionally hilarious local paper. Op-eds are fine for beginners trying to break into the commentary scene—quick takes, fleeting relevance, and a brief moment in the social media sun. But if you really want influence, credibility, and the illusion of insight regardless of accuracy, you need a column. Columns imply permanence, a platform, and the comforting authority of being wrong repeatedly without consequence. While op-eds beg for attention, a column assumes you already deserve it.

If you're looking to score a column with minimal effort and maximum reach, look no further than an unintentionally hilarious local English-language publication in Korea. These outlets may have accidentally published well-crafted expat jokes as op-eds and re-used newsd from highly questionable sources, but they also regularly demonstrate that there is ample space for self-appointed experts and cultural commentators.

The editorial bar is low, the audience is captive, and a glorious mix of outdated clichés, name-dropping, and lazily disguised plagiarism will not be noticed. Just be sure to know what the political position of your chosen paper is! Go out and read them now. There’s no better time to learn who you’re writing for than during a presidential election period.

Step 10: Spread rumors about your past achievements. The real currency of North Korea watching is reputation and promotion—so it’s essential to spread vague, unverifiable rumors about your past achievements. Maybe you “briefed a senior official,” “advised a delegation,” or “called the 2017 crisis before it escalated”—no need to clarify which official, which delegation, or exactly what you said. These whispered accomplishments create an aura of insider credibility that papers over years of speculative fluff and wildly incorrect forecasts. After all, in a field built on opacity, who’s going to fact-check your legend?

Welcome to the club. You’re well on the way to being a North Korea expert!