Why North Korean Defectors Struggle to Fit Into South Korean Society

In Seoul, South Korea, a plan by Yeomyung School to construct its own permanent campus sparked community pushback, highlighting the deep social divides facing nearly 35,000 North Korean defectors living in the country, NPR reported.

While South Korean law instantly grants citizenship to defectors crossing the border, daily life often tells a different story. After nearly 80 years of living under different systems, many find that crossing the border doesn’t automatically mean fitting in.

Yeomyung School operates as the only alternative middle and high school for teenage defectors and children of defectors in Seoul, serving about a hundred students. This summer, the school’s effort to build a permanent home on its current tenant site drew immediate neighborhood opposition, with local residents chanting against the project and arguing that the site should be used for their children, not defectors.

That resistance mirrors a failed 2019 attempt in another district where the school abandoned a building project after facing community pushback. Vice Principal Hwang Heui-gun recalled hearing residents claim at a previous public hearing that their kids will be in danger if defectors come to their neighborhood, according to NPR.

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Official data paints a different picture of public safety. A 2019 government study found that the crime rate among defectors is not meaningfully higher than that of the general population, despite older data sometimes suggesting otherwise.

Ahn Ji-hyun, a 38-year-old resident living across the street from the school, expressed ongoing unease to NPR. She does not know any defectors personally, but she views the school as a potential threat, pointing to the unpredictable nature of North Korea and the intense ideological education citizens receive there.

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“North Korea itself is unpredictable. And it makes no sense that people who grew up with brainwashing education there can be safe,” Ahn Ji-hyun told NPR.

That sentiment reflects a broader hesitation across South Korean society. A survey published last year by Seoul National University indicated that fewer than 30% of South Koreans felt friendly toward defectors.

Kim Young-ho, a researcher at the university, explained that public comfort with defectors largely exists in theory rather than practice. “People are comfortable with defectors in theory. They’re less comfortable when they become neighbors,” Kim Young-ho told NPR.

Kim added that public perception tends to soften when more people want reunification, as defectors can contribute to social integration in a unified Korea. However, he said that many do not see them as contributors to their lives right now.

For students like Kang, a 10th-grader who arrived in the south at age two, the friction appears on both social media feeds and in regular classrooms. He previously attended standard schools where classmates shut him out or tried to pressure him into swearing at the leader, Kim Jong Un, to prove his allegiance to the south.

“When my classmates learned I was from North Korea, they started treating me differently, and they shut me out in subtle ways,” Kang told NPR through an interpreter.

At Yeomyung School, students find a supportive environment. The school is now located next to the Han River, complete with a schoolyard.

Vice Principal Hwang said that while students finally got the school they once imagined, achieving total social acceptance beyond its walls will likely require more time.