Why I Regret My Decision To Travel To North Korea

In 2017, when I was 22, I went on a five-day tour of North Korea with a company called Lupine Travel. I joined a group of other travellers on a tightly organised itinerary that was mostly based in Pyongyang. Over the course of the trip, we explored the capital, visited the DMZ, and stopped at a handful of other sites.

At the time, I was driven by curiosity. North Korea felt almost mythical in that it was very secretive and cut off from the rest of the world. I was fascinated by the documentaries I’d seen and the articles I’d read, and wanted to see the country for myself. Going there in person, with an open mind, felt like a good way to learn more.

I’m now almost 30, and my perspective has shifted. I’ve reflected a lot on my decision to travel to North Korea, and looking back on that trip, I can honestly say that I regret going. Not because it wasn’t fascinating (it was), or because I didn’t learn anything (I did), but because going to North Korea is far from a neutral act. It’s not just “an interesting place to see.” It’s a country where your presence, however small, plays into a much bigger, much darker picture.

To be clear, I knew beforehand that visiting North Korea was a controversial decision. I knew the country had serious human rights issues. I knew the tours were tightly controlled and heavily scripted. I knew I’d be chaperoned, and that I wouldn’t see the “real” North Korea. But I was highly interested, and I told myself that being there — talking to the guides, seeing things with my own eyes — might also somehow help break down barriers.

I told myself that tourism could offer North Korean citizens a rare window into the outside world. If there’s ever to be meaningful change from within, exposure to foreigners — however limited — might be a small step forward. By visiting North Korea, I wasn’t just satisfying my own curiosity. I thought I was also, in a small way, offering an alternative perspective to people who have been isolated from the rest of the world.

Since then, I’ve done a lot more reading. I’ve listened to North Korean defectors talk about their lives. I’ve followed investigations by human rights groups. I’ve watched interviews and documentaries made by people trying to expose what life is really like inside the country. And the more I’ve learned, the more uncomfortable I’ve become with the role I played, no matter how well-intentioned I believed myself to be at the time.

The reality is that tourism in North Korea is more than likely a tool of the regime. You don’t get to see anything that hasn’t been carefully chosen for you. You stay in hotels that are state-run, eat in state-approved restaurants, and follow a schedule designed to promote a very specific story. Even places that appear ordinary, such as schools or metro stations, may form part of that carefully managed image.

The country is surreal in ways I can still vividly remember. But that sense of surrealism wasn’t simply cultural difference. I believe it was illusion. I remember my first impression of Pyongyang being how clean and beautiful it was, with pastel colours and impressive monuments at every turn. In fact, it was a little too impressive.

What’s worse is that the money you spend — on tours, hotels, meals, souvenirs — goes straight into the pockets of the regime. That’s not a conspiracy theory; that’s just how the system operates. And it’s a regime that’s been accused, time and again, of horrendous crimes against humanity. Political prison camps, torture, public executions, mass surveillance, starvation. It’s all been documented in painful detail by the UN and other organisations. On top of that, your tourist dollar helps to fund their nuclear programmes and missile launches, which continue to escalate global tensions.

But this is where the ethical questions start to get complicated. Is it wrong to visit any country with poor human rights policies? Is boycotting travel a meaningful form of protest, or does it just increase isolation? What about the people who live there, who might benefit (economically or socially) from foreign visitors?

These questions aren’t unique to North Korea. Many countries have a poor human rights record. The Chinese government blocks citizens’ access to foreign media. There’s an ongoing genocide in Myanmar. Even popular tourist destinations like Thailand or Egypt have histories of political repression, censorship, or abuse of migrant workers. And there are many, many countries where the lack of rights for women and minority groups is nothing short of disgusting.

So no, North Korea isn’t the only country with a dark side. But what makes it different, in my opinion, is the total lack of transparency and the way tourism is managed. In most other countries, there’s at least some possibility of independent exploration. You can stay in independent guesthouses, eat at local restaurants, meet people outside of official narratives, and see both the good and the bad. You might even contribute directly to communities in need.

In North Korea, none of that is possible. Tourism there exists on the state’s terms, from where you sleep to what you’re shown. There are no genuine interactions or open conversations. Everything is filtered through the state. And that makes ethical travel there pretty much impossible. That’s what sets North Korea apart, and why I now see the decision to visit as a mistake. I wasn’t challenging anything by being there. I was simply playing a role in a narrative.

If you’re curious about North Korea, I get it. Curiosity is a good thing, and the desire to understand is valid. But there are more responsible ways to learn than by participating in the performance. Read memoirs by defectors like In Order to Live by Yeonmi Park or The Girl with Seven Names by Hyeonseo Lee. Watch documentaries such as The Defector or Under the Sun, which offer a far more honest portrayal of life beyond the government’s facade. Support organisations like Liberty in North Korea, which help people escape and raise global awareness.

Do I think everyone who visits North Korea is a bad person? Of course not. I wasn’t trying to be one, and I doubt most visitors are. But we do have a responsibility to think critically about the impact of our choices. I can’t undo my decision to go, but I can be honest about it. I can own the fact that I was naive. If you’re considering a trip there, I’m not here to shame you. That would be hypocritical. But I’d urge you to pause and ask yourself: what are you really hoping to gain by going?

I do think it’s important to be curious. I just don’t think it’s an excuse. There’s a difference between visiting a country with problems, and visiting one where tourism is used to prop up an authoritarian state. Being a tourist to North Korea doesn’t make you a witness. It makes you part of the show.

Thank you for reading! If you found this post useful, I’d be grateful if you would consider using the affiliate links below when planning your travels. I’ll make a small commission at no extra cost to you. This will help me to keep this blog running. Thanks for your support — Lauren.

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