Only those at the highest levels are permitted to enter Pyongyang or access spaces of luxury.
In a nation where the architecture of power is built on loyalty and fear, Kim Jong-un has inaugurated a renovated hot spring resort as part of a broader campaign to present North Korea as a place of civilized leisure. The gleaming new facilities — ski resorts, beachfronts, thermal pools — are real, but they exist within a system that determines who may enter based on political devotion rather than human need. As the regime celebrates what it calls people-oriented progress, international observers note that North Korea remains the most dangerous place on earth to be a Christian, and that the majority of its citizens live in poverty without the freedom to move, worship, or speak. The gap between the image being constructed and the lives being lived may be the defining truth of this moment.
- Kim Jong-un personally toured the newly reopened Onpho hot spring complex, projecting an image of a benevolent leader delivering civilization to his people — while dressed in formal attire among guests in swimwear.
- The regime is accelerating a tourism infrastructure push — ski resorts, coastal parks, thermal spas — framing each project as proof of socialist achievement and the state's care for ordinary citizens.
- Beneath the spectacle, the Songbun loyalty-ranking system quietly determines who may access these spaces, effectively reserving them for political elites and foreign visitors while most citizens remain in poverty.
- The same week the hot spring reopened, Open Doors released its 2026 World Watch List ranking North Korea as the worst country on earth for Christians, where discovery means labor camps or execution.
- The contradiction is stark and deliberate: a state producing luxury propaganda at scale while maintaining one of the most totalitarian systems of control in modern history.
State media released footage this week of Kim Jong-un touring the Onpho Working People's Holiday Camp, a hot spring complex that had just completed an eight-year renovation. The images were arresting — a dictator in a heavy winter coat seated on pool stairs, chatting with visitors in swimwear. At the reopening ceremony, crowds offered what state media described as "stormy cheers of boundless reverence," and Kim framed the facility as offering "the base for civilization" under the regime's people-oriented policy.
The Onpho reopening is part of a larger pattern. North Korea has also constructed a major ski and winter sports resort and developed beachfront areas in Wonsan. Days after the hot spring event, state media announced the opening of the Yombunjin Coastal Park Area, featuring a beachfront hostel, cinema, shops, and recreational facilities — all presented as evidence of socialist progress.
What the propaganda omits is the system governing access. North Korea's Songbun hierarchy ranks every citizen by loyalty to the regime, and only those at its highest tiers may enter Pyongyang or enjoy spaces of luxury. The vast majority of the population lives in poverty, with restricted movement, limited food access, and no exposure to outside media. Tourism revenue has historically come from Chinese visitors drawn to sites of communist history.
The expansion unfolds against a backdrop of severe repression. The same week as the hot spring inauguration, Open Doors released its 2026 World Watch List, ranking North Korea as the worst place on earth to be a Christian. Those discovered practicing their faith face imprisonment in labor camps or execution — and their families often share their fate.
The new facilities are real, the construction is happening, and the propaganda is being produced at scale. But they exist in a country where most citizens cannot freely travel to reach them, where religion is a capital offense, and where a loyalty ranking system most people cannot escape will determine who walks through the doors when Onpho opens fully in February.
On Tuesday, state media released footage of Kim Jong-un at the Onpho Working People's Holiday Camp, a hot spring complex that had just undergone an eight-year renovation. He wore an oversized winter coat as he toured the indoor pools, sitting on the stairs to chat with visitors in swimwear. The images were striking—a dictator in formal dress among people at leisure—and they fit into a larger pattern the regime has been pursuing: rebranding North Korea as a tourism destination.
The renovation itself tells a story about how the regime operates. According to the Korean Central News Agency, Kim visited the facility in 2018 and was reportedly appalled by its deterioration. He issued stern warnings to officials about their ideological failures and ordered a comprehensive reconstruction. The message was clear: this was not merely a maintenance project but a reflection of the state's commitment to its people's well-being. At the reopening ceremony, crowds offered what state media called "stormy cheers of boundless reverence." Kim spoke of the hot springs as offering "the base for civilization" and framed their development as part of the regime's people-oriented policy.
But the Onpho reopening is only one piece of a broader infrastructure push. The regime has also built a massive ski and winter sports resort and developed beachfront areas in Wonsan. Just days after the hot spring event, state media announced the opening of the Yombunjin Coastal Park Area, featuring a new beachfront hostel with capacity for hundreds of guests, along with a cinema, shops, and recreational facilities. These projects are presented as evidence of socialist progress and the benevolent leadership of Kim Jong-un.
What the propaganda does not acknowledge is who actually gets to use these facilities. North Korea operates under a system called Songbun, which ranks every citizen by their loyalty to the regime. Only those at the highest levels of this hierarchy are permitted to enter Pyongyang or access spaces of luxury. The vast majority of the country lives in poverty, with restricted freedom of movement, limited access to food, and no exposure to media not produced by the state. For decades, North Korea has drawn tourism revenue primarily from Chinese visitors engaged in what is called "Red Tourism"—elderly Chinese who travel to sites connected to communist history as a form of nostalgia.
The tourism expansion also comes against a backdrop of severe repression. Religious freedom is perhaps the most brutally suppressed aspect of life under Kim Jong-un. The Christian humanitarian organization Open Doors ranked North Korea as the worst place on earth to be a Christian in its 2026 World Watch List, released the same week as the hot spring inauguration. According to Open Doors, Christians discovered by authorities face either imprisonment in labor camps with little prospect of release or immediate execution. Family members of those discovered often face the same fate.
This contrast—between the regime's celebration of new leisure facilities and the reality of widespread deprivation and persecution—defines the current moment in North Korea. The tourism push is real, the construction is happening, and the propaganda is being produced at scale. But these projects exist in a country where most people cannot freely travel to use them, where religious practice is a capital offense, and where the state controls nearly every aspect of daily life. The Onpho hot spring will open fully in February. Who will be allowed through its doors remains determined by a loyalty ranking system that most North Koreans cannot escape.
Citas Notables
It is an important component of the people-oriented policy of our Party and government to actively develop the natural resources of the country and contribute to the improvement of the people's well-being.— Kim Jong-un, at the Onpho hot spring reopening ceremony
North Korea is arguably the most dangerous place on earth to follow Jesus. If someone is discovered to be a Christian, the consequences are unimaginably stark: either imprisonment in one of its notorious labour camps, with little hope of release, or immediate execution.— Open Doors, 2026 World Watch List
La Conversación del Hearth Otra perspectiva de la historia
Why would a regime that's starving spend resources on luxury resorts?
Because tourism generates hard currency, and because these projects serve the elites who keep the system running. The facilities are also propaganda—proof of progress, proof of the leader's benevolence.
But if most people can't access them, what's the propaganda for?
It's for the people who matter to the regime—the party officials, the military, the families in Pyongyang. And it's for the outside world. These images of Kim Jong-un at a hot spring are meant to suggest a normal country with normal concerns.
Is there actual demand for North Korean tourism?
From Chinese tourists, yes. There's a steady stream of older Chinese visitors interested in communist history. Western tourism dried up after Otto Warmbier was tortured to death in 2017. The regime is trying to rebuild that market, but it's an uphill climb.
The Songbun system—is that enforced strictly?
Absolutely. It determines where you can live, what job you can have, whether you can travel. Most people are locked into their rank from birth. Access to a beach resort or hot spring isn't a right; it's a privilege granted to the loyal.
So these resorts are really just another tool of control?
Exactly. They're incentives for loyalty, rewards for the regime's supporters, and visual proof of a system that claims to care about its people while denying them basic freedoms.