A Heartless Homeland
Why more North Koreans than ever are fleeing their country.
By Gregg Chenoweth & Tricia Miller | posted 10/01/2004 12:00AM

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The South Korean National Intelligence Service reported one example. A North Korean couple defected with their starving two- and four-year-olds to China in the bitter cold of November, where they logged the forest for money. They survived the dual threats of starvation and deportation after they encountered a Christian church in China. Through the church they found that Christianity was not the "fearsome religion" the regime had told them it was.
Economic Stagnation. North Koreans are still reeling from the severe famine of the mid-1990s, despite sharing the same type of arable land—about the size of Indiana—as that of South Korea, whose gross domestic product is among the world's
top 15. Ironically, a 2003 report by South Korea's Ministry of Government Administration and Home Affairs noted that "the amount of food-waste dumped in South Korea was more than enough to feed North Koreans."
North Korea also faces severe medical care challenges. Norbert Vollertsen, a German medical doctor who spent 18 months working in North Korean hospitals, reported to Voice of the Martyrs that children underwent surgery "with no scalpels or antiseptic," and there were "drip lines attached to patients via beer bottles."
Brutality. According to Article 47 of the 1987 North Korean Criminal Code, defectors "shall be committed to a reform institution for not less than seven years." More than 150,000 returned runaways reside in such "Enlightenment Centers," according to the U.S. Committee for Human Rights in North Korea.
The code continues with pointed punishment for vague crimes: "In cases where the person commits an extremely grave concern, he or she shall be given the death penalty."
Native North Koreans aren't the only ones seeking creative passages to South Korea. Last year about 30 ethnic Koreans native to China obtained education visas to take a 12-week hair designer training course in Seoul. They never returned.
Reaching Out
The Koreas present a paradox: Bordering one of the world's neediest populations are some of the kingdom's brightest ministries, but the wall between them is great.
The largest church in history, Yoido Full Gospel in Seoul, boasts 800,000 members. It has planted 680 branch congregations; operates a university, a daily newspaper with circulation of half a million, and a job-training complex; and owns a mountain where buses shuttle prayer warriors every hour, every day.
Presbyterians thrive in South Korea with 7 million members. Two of their largest churches in Seoul are bursting with 35,000 and 20,000 regular attendees, respectively.
The Church of the Nazarene's largest district on the planet is South Korea, with 259 churches across the peninsula. It operates a university and seminary, and ministers in numerous orphanages. With 20,000 members, it is growing at an annual rate of 8 percent.
The Christians in these South Korean churches reach out to the refugees as they can. Art Kinsler, an American-born missionary to South Korea since 1972 for the Presbyterian Church (USA), says the denomination reaches out to "some 5,000 North Koreans" who have come south in the past few years. But to explain the ministries in print, he says, "might result in no longer being able to visit [North Korea] and send help there."
Stephen Bong Lee, pastor of a Korean Nazarene church in California, believes Christians could follow the example of Korean Americans in California. They donate money to establish noodle factories in North Korea to help alleviate the brutal poverty.