When Russia goes looking for partners, it lands on North Korea
On a September morning in 2023, a distinctive green-and-yellow train idled at the edge of North Korea, poised to carry Kim Jong Un across the border into Russia for a meeting with Vladimir Putin — a journey watched closely by a world that understands what isolated powers offer each other when desperation and ambition converge. The encounter, expected near Vladivostok where the two leaders first met four years prior, was not merely a diplomatic courtesy but a potential transaction: Russian artillery hunger meeting North Korean stockpiles, and North Korean nuclear ambition meeting Russian technical expertise. In the long arc of post-Cold War geopolitics, this summit marked a moment when the pressures of the Ukraine conflict began reshaping alliances once thought frozen in place.
- Russia's artillery reserves are draining under the weight of the Ukraine war, and North Korea's vast Soviet-era ammunition stockpiles have become one of Moscow's most viable lifelines.
- Western governments are sounding alarms not just about weapons flowing to Ukraine's front lines, but about what Kim Jong Un might receive in return — technologies that could make his nuclear arsenal a far more credible threat to the United States, South Korea, and Japan.
- Kim's train sat at the border, moving back and forth without crossing, as if the world itself was holding its breath before a deal that neither side would officially confirm.
- The two nations have been quietly drawing closer since Russia's 2022 invasion, with North Korea recognizing Moscow's separatist territories and Russia shielding Pyongyang from tightened U.N. sanctions.
- Analysts remain divided on whether this summit will yield a formal arms agreement or serve as theater — but the very fact that Putin is courting Kim signals how profoundly Ukraine has reordered Moscow's strategic calculations.
On Monday, September 11, 2023, a green train with yellow trim appeared at the North Korean side of the border river, moving back and forth near the bridge connecting the two countries without yet crossing. Associated Press journalists watched from the frontier as the Kremlin and North Korea's state media confirmed what observers had anticipated: Kim Jong Un was traveling to Russia to meet Vladimir Putin, at Putin's personal invitation, within the coming days.
The setting was deliberate. Putin had arrived that same day in Vladivostok — the eastern port city where he and Kim had first met four years earlier — for an international forum running through Wednesday. South Korean media, citing government sources, reported the train had left Pyongyang the previous evening and that a summit could occur as soon as Tuesday.
The stakes of the meeting extended well beyond symbolism. Russia, its artillery reserves depleted by the grinding war in Ukraine and its resupply options narrowed by sanctions, was eyeing North Korea's enormous stockpiles of Soviet-designed shells and rockets. Washington had accused Pyongyang of already supplying arms to Russia, including munitions sold to the Wagner mercenary group — allegations both governments denied. When Russian Defense Minister Shoigu visited North Korea in July, he was shown an arms exhibition and a military parade featuring ICBMs built to strike the American mainland. Kim subsequently toured weapons factories, urging accelerated production — gestures analysts read as both a modernization signal and a preview of potential exports.
For Kim, the transaction looked different. He sought energy aid and food to ease chronic domestic shortages, but his deeper ambition was access to advanced Russian military technology — the kind that could sharpen his ballistic missile submarines, accelerate his nuclear program, and improve his reconnaissance satellites. Such transfers would mark an unprecedented shift; Russia had long withheld its most sensitive capabilities even from close partners. But as Biden's deputy national security adviser Jon Finer acknowledged, buying from North Korea may have become Moscow's best available option.
The partnership itself was a consequence of Ukraine. Since Russia's February 2022 invasion, the two nations had moved steadily closer — North Korea recognizing Moscow's separatist territories in eastern Ukraine, Russia blocking U.N. efforts to tighten sanctions on Pyongyang. Whether this summit would produce a concrete arms deal or remain largely performative was still uncertain. But the image of two nuclear-armed, internationally pressured states finding common cause against the West carried its own unmistakable meaning — and for Washington and its allies, the possibility of Russian technology flowing into Kim's arsenal represented a threshold of concern that no amount of diplomatic ambiguity could soften.
A green train with yellow trim pulled up to a station on the North Korean side of the border river on Monday, September 11, 2023. Associated Press journalists watching from the frontier couldn't confirm whether Kim Jong Un was aboard, but the locomotive—distinctive from his previous foreign journeys—moved back and forth between the platform and the bridge connecting North Korea to Russia, never quite crossing. By evening, it hadn't made the crossing yet. But both the Kremlin and North Korea's state news agency had already announced what everyone suspected: Kim was heading to Russia for a meeting with Vladimir Putin, at Putin's invitation, sometime in the coming days.
The timing was no accident. Putin had arrived that same Monday in Vladivostok, the eastern Russian port city, to attend an international forum running through Wednesday. It was in Vladivostok, four years earlier, that Putin and Kim had held their first face-to-face meeting. U.S. intelligence officials had flagged the likelihood of another summit within the month, and now it appeared to be unfolding in real time. South Korean media outlets, citing unnamed government sources, suggested the train had departed Pyongyang on Sunday evening and that a Kim-Putin meeting could happen as soon as Tuesday.
What made this encounter significant enough to trigger Western alarm was not the symbolism of two isolated leaders meeting, but what they might agree to. Putin needed ammunition. Russia's artillery reserves were depleting as the war in Ukraine ground on, and Moscow's options for resupply were narrowing under international sanctions. North Korea, by contrast, possessed tens of millions of artillery shells and rockets based on Soviet designs—a vast stockpile that could theoretically sustain Russia's war effort for months. The U.S. had been accusing North Korea since the previous year of already sending arms to Russia, including shells sold to the Wagner mercenary group, though both Moscow and Pyongyang denied it. When Russian Defense Minister Sergei Shoigu visited North Korea in July, he was invited to an arms exhibition and a massive military parade where Kim displayed intercontinental ballistic missiles designed to strike the American mainland. Afterward, Kim toured weapons factories, urging workers to accelerate production of new ammunition—visits that analysts interpreted as both a modernization push and a shopping expedition for potential exports to Russia.
For Kim, the calculus was different. He wanted energy aid and food to ease North Korea's chronic shortages. More strategically, he wanted advanced weapons technology: the kind of expertise that could accelerate his nuclear program, improve his ballistic missile submarines, and enhance his military reconnaissance satellites. Such transfers would be unprecedented in scope. Russia had historically guarded its most sensitive military technologies even from close allies like China. But desperation changes calculations. Jon Finer, President Biden's chief deputy national security adviser, told reporters that buying weapons from North Korea "may be the best and may be the only option" available to Moscow as it struggled to sustain its war effort.
The deepening Russia-North Korea partnership was itself a product of the Ukraine conflict. For decades, the two nations had maintained a complicated, oscillating relationship. But since Russia's invasion in February 2022, they had drawn steadily closer. Putin needed military help; Kim needed to break out of diplomatic isolation and demonstrate that his traditional allies—Russia and China—still stood with him against Washington. North Korea was the only nation besides Russia and Syria to recognize the independence of the Russian-backed separatist regions in eastern Ukraine, Donetsk and Luhansk. Kim had even hinted at sending construction workers to those territories to assist with rebuilding. Meanwhile, Russia and China had blocked U.S.-led efforts at the U.N. Security Council to strengthen sanctions on North Korea over its accelerating missile tests, accusing Washington of provoking tensions through expanded military exercises with South Korea and Japan.
What remained unclear was whether this meeting would produce a formal arms agreement or remain largely symbolic. Some analysts suggested that Russia, despite its needs, might be reluctant to transfer major weapons technologies in exchange for what would likely be a limited supply of ammunition transported over a small rail link between the countries. The logistics alone presented challenges. Yet the very fact that Putin was turning to North Korea—a nation the West had spent decades trying to isolate—spoke volumes about how far the Ukraine conflict had pushed Moscow's strategic calculations. The meeting, whenever it occurred, would signal not just a military transaction but a realignment: two nuclear-armed states, both under international pressure, finding common cause against the West. For the United States and its allies, the prospect of Russian technology flowing into North Korea's weapons program represented a new threshold of concern. Kim's arsenal was already designed to threaten the U.S., South Korea, and Japan. Advanced Russian guidance systems, submarine technology, or satellite capabilities could make that threat substantially more credible.
Notable Quotes
Buying weapons from North Korea may be the best and may be the only option open to Moscow as it tries to keep its war effort going— Jon Finer, U.S. President Biden's chief deputy national security adviser
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
Why does it matter that Kim is going to Russia now, specifically? Couldn't this have happened anytime?
The timing is everything. Russia is bleeding ammunition in Ukraine. Their reserves are depleting faster than they can replace them through normal channels because of sanctions. North Korea has tens of millions of shells sitting in warehouses. It's a perfect match of desperation and supply.
And what does Kim get out of it? He's not fighting in Ukraine.
He gets legitimacy and technology. He's been isolated for years—this meeting with Putin shows the world that North Korea still has powerful friends. But more importantly, he wants the technical knowledge to make his nuclear weapons and missiles better. That's the real prize.
Would Russia actually hand over that kind of sensitive technology?
That's the question keeping Western officials awake. Russia has never done this before, even with allies it trusts more. But when you're losing a war and running out of ammunition, your standards for what you're willing to share tend to drop.
What happens if they do make a deal?
Then you have a nuclear-armed North Korea with better missiles, better submarines, better satellites—all of it pointed at the U.S., South Korea, and Japan. The threat doesn't just stay regional anymore.
So this isn't really about Ukraine at all.
It starts with Ukraine, but it doesn't end there. Ukraine is the catalyst. It's forcing Putin to make choices he never thought he'd have to make, and those choices are reshaping the entire global security picture.