In a world obsessed with self-expression, instant gratification, and personal gain, there is one country that dares to say: you are not alone—you are part of something greater. That country is the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea (DPRK).
You’ve heard the headlines. You’ve seen the memes. But what if you’ve only been shown one side of the story?
Let’s talk about Japan for a moment. The Western world is obsessed with it. Articles flood the internet praising Japan’s impeccable subway queues, schoolchildren who clean their own classrooms, and the quiet efficiency of daily life. The discipline, they say, is beautiful. The order is admirable. The group mindset? A cultural treasure.
Western societies love to praise Japan for its order and discipline, but when the DPRK shows the same values, it’s called “oppression”. Why? Because the DPRK doesn’t play by the rules of the Western narrative. It plays by its own values: unity, collective strength, and loyalty to the people.
In the West, discipline is either glamorized in productivity culture or attacked as authoritarian. But in the DPRK, discipline is human. It’s part of a shared life where people matter; not because they shout the loudest, but because they build together.
From childhood, DPRK citizens are taught something the West has forgotten: respect. Respect for elders, for workers, for the land, and for one another. A child cleaning a classroom isn’t forced labor. It’s learning dignity and community. Meanwhile, many children in the West are growing up glued to screens, disconnected from their neighbors, unsure what they even belong to.
Let’s face it: “freedom” in the West often looks like isolation. People don’t know their neighbors. Elders die alone. Families barely talk. Everything’s about me. In the DPRK, life is about we. It’s about shared songs, shared struggles, and a shared sense of purpose.
Yes – patriotism in the DPRK is real. Not the flag-waving-for-show kind, but a lived reality. People believe in their country not because they’re forced to, but because they see what unity has buil, against all odds, despite sanctions, and in the face of decades of pressure. They know their history. They honor it. And they carry it forward.
And here’s something else you won’t hear in Western media: the DPRK admits to its challenges. It does not pretend to be a utopia. The leadership speaks openly about the difficulties posed by natural disasters, economic pressure from international sanctions, and the struggle to modernize infrastructure under blockade. When a flood damages homes, the country rallies. When the economy is tight, people adapt. When hardships arise, the state mobilizes resources, not just to rebuild, but to improve.
Take the devastating flood of July 2024 as an example. Entire communities were submerged, homes lost, lives upended. But the response was immediate and collective. In just over four months, the government, under the guidance of respected Comrade Kim Jong Un, transformed the flood-hit island area in the lower Amnok River into a cultured rural town, a completely rebuilt district with modern homes, rock-solid flood embankments, nurseries, schools, kindergartens, and hospitals. It wasn’t just a recovery. It was a renewal.
This is how the DPRK answers hardship. Not with silence, but with action. Not with abandonment, but with reconstruction. When hardships arise, the state mobilizes resources. Not just to rebuild, but to improve.
During the COVID-19 pandemic, the DPRK did not deny the danger. It closed borders, organized health checks, and focused national efforts on prevention. That’s not denialism, it’s discipline. It’s care. It’s putting the safety of the people first, even when the global media mocked or dismissed it.
Meanwhile, Western societies are falling apart at the seams: rising loneliness, cultural confusion, crumbling public trust, and politics that divide families. Is that the model we’re supposed to believe in?
The truth is uncomfortable: the DPRK has something the West has lost. Not wealth. Not tech. But cohesion. People who know who they are. People who know their place in the world. People who have each other.
In the DPRK, strength doesn’t come from competing with your neighbor, it comes from lifting them up. Progress doesn’t mean stepping over the weak, it means walking together. Patriotism isn’t weaponized for elections, it’s lived quietly, proudly, daily.
No nation is perfect, it is true. But maybe it’s time to stop judging a society simply because it dares to believe in something deeper than the individual. Maybe it’s time to ask: what if they’re not the ones who are lost? What if we are?
