The North Korean Recovery: How Ties with Russia and China Are Reshaping a Hermit Economy

In Pyongyang, something is changing, but it’s the kind of change that doesn’t show itself through glossy ribbon-cutting or press conferences. It manifests itself in smaller things. For the first time in six years, a direct Air China flight landed in the capital of North Korea. Beijing and Pyongyang passenger trains resume daily service. The volume of cargo containers crossing the Tumen River bridge is higher than it was prior to the pandemic. The North has “moved beyond a period of contraction,” according to dry, bureaucratic language used by South Korea’s Unification Ministry earlier this year, but the underlying narrative is more intriguing than that phrase implies.

This appears to be a change for a nation that was closed off for the majority of the early 2020s. According to Seoul’s central bank, the North’s economy expanded by almost 4% in 2024—the fastest rate in eight years. Three years ago, when border closures, poor harvests, and harsh sanctions seemed to be tightening the noose, nobody would have bet on that figure. What has changed, then? The truth is that Beijing chose to ignore the events in Moscow.

Of the two, the Russia angle is the more dramatic. According to reports, Pyongyang has been transporting artillery shells, missiles, and even troops eastward since the invasion of Ukraine in 2022, receiving payment in cash, fuel, food, and—more covertly—technology. The North may have made up to $14.4 billion over the course of two years from this arrangement, according to a South Korean think tank. Since estimating North Korean revenue is more akin to forensic accounting than economics, that figure should be viewed with some skepticism. However, for a state whose total nominal GDP is about $30 billion, even a small portion of it would be revolutionary.

Observing this, it seems as though Kim Jong Un has at last found the patron he has been waiting for. China was always there, of course, but Beijing’s assistance has traditionally been accompanied by a certain fatigue, the indulgence of an elderly relative who covers the costs but doesn’t take pleasure in the visits. Russia is a different kind of partner, suddenly in need of ammunition and prepared to exchange military secrets for it. Sejong Institute researcher Peter Ward told NK News that Pyongyang has “gained a lot” from Moscow, but he was cautious to note that the windfall might not last past whatever resolution the conflict in Ukraine ultimately finds.

In the meantime, relations with China are improving once more. In 2025, trade between the two nations increased by about 25% year over year to almost pre-pandemic levels. The first talks between Kim and Xi in years took place in September, and the flights and rail lines were restored in a matter of weeks. In December alone, Chinese imports into the North totaled $257 million, the highest amount since October 2019. It’s difficult to ignore the fact that Beijing’s foreign minister visited Pyongyang in April and spoke candidly about “practical cooperation,” a term diplomats use to refer to business but prefer not to put in writing.

This does not imply that North Korea is suddenly wealthy. Outsiders would be shocked to learn that the majority of its residents still suffer from shortages. In February, Kim declared to a party congress that the nation had overcome its “worst difficulties,” using language that suggests how dire things must have been. And the recovery, as it is, is based on two potentially fragile pillars: a war that will eventually come to an end and a Chinese patron that hasn’t, as Ward noted, significantly loosened sanctions.

However, the trajectory is important. For many years, Washington and Seoul believed that pressure, isolation, and patience would eventually make Pyongyang give in. As one watches the trains return to Pyongyang Station, one may wonder if that presumption is quietly becoming out of date.