North Korea Watchers are just different

Are North Korea Watchers just different? Or is there more to their distinct proclivities? We’ve all felt it before. At least, anyone who’s spent more than their fair share of time amidst North Korea Watchers, has felt it before. A disturbingly acute sense that not all is quite right.

I first noticed it a long time ago when invited to an event at the Korea Institute for National Unification’s (KINU) old campus near the entrance to Bukhansan, the grand mountain that towers over northern Seoul. The government, flush with Sunshine Policy finances, decided to gather together the best North Korea Watchers from far and wide (and a few young nobodies). Yet, it was as if someone had gathered the trolls and goblins of the deepest caves in the nearby mountain to a luncheon, and there they were, staring at each other and not talking, drinking, and nibbling canapes. The North Korea Watcher field brings together more than its share of the odd and awkward.

If you doubt my assertion, think of the better known characters. There’s cynical social recluses; uniform and military regalia fetishists; imagery and data obsessed fanatics; public attention seekers that verge on a histrionic personality disorder; and Cold War ideologues detached from all sense of reality. Even the ex-government types are different.

When in government, whether it’s a security agency, development assistance, or diplomacy, there are certain people who end up in the North Korea Watcher field - and they’re different. They have distinct tendencies. Kind of like the kids you knew at school when everyone else liked dinosaurs, they liked trains, and could also identify, name, and give the history of every locomotive engine that rode the Great Northern Railway. On the surface, it’s obvious, they didn’t focus on China, Japan, or Russia, but rather chose an excruciatingly small niche. Not the dinosaurs, just the engines that rode the Great Northern.

So what can explain it? It would take a pretty large study to explore this topic (the book is finally on the way!!!). Here’s a few non-mutually exclusive simple explanations to start you thinking…

Expatriation and alienation. The North Korea Watcher field is disproportionally filled with the expatriated and alienated who fall into North Korea watching.

Non-Koreans living in Korea who, for want of nothing better to do, become engulfed in the desire to explain North Korea’s actions. Like their colon a few hours after an academic conference full-buffet breakfast, they have an urgent desire to push out the blockage that has built up. It starts small, at one of the unwittingly hilarious English language dailies in South Korea who’ll print anything; moves on to an invitation from a government think-tank; and then before you know it, they’re responding to CNN and BBC when North Korea misbehaves.

In the same way, South Koreans living in the U.S. grow tired of responding to colleagues’ glances when someone starts talking about North Korea. They get tired of questions about whether they’re concerned about North Korea, when the first time they ever thought about it was when they arrived in America and someone asked about it. Struggling in their career, and sensing that it’s got something to do with racism, they decide to just go with the flow and start focusing on North Korea. Before you know it, they’re also responding to CNN and BBC when North Korea misbehaves.

Neurodivergence. People with neurodivergence are often drawn to North Korea watching because the field rewards exactly the traits they tend to possess: deep, obsessive focus; comfort with solitary, detail-heavy work; strong pattern recognition; and an ability to tolerate ambiguity while clinging to internal logic. The analytical puzzles of North Korea—interpreting propaganda, decoding satellite images, tracking elite movements—suit minds wired for precision and long-term fascination.

Unlike more socially driven academic fields, North Korea watching quietly accommodates the eccentric, the introverted, and the neurologically offbeat. In a space where obsession is a feature, not a bug, neurodivergent individuals often find both challenge and belonging.

Frustration. There is no single pinnacle or endgame in the North Korea Watcher field. There are no career heights to scale. Sure, for some it may be getting a spot on CNN or BBC; contributing to a government policy document; or authoring a ‘must-read’ book. But each of these are as permanent as waves washing over the Wonsan shore.

There are no clear markers of success, such as diplomatic posts, trade deals, media prizes, or negotiation outcomes (for many countries) - and even when there are, these achievements are more marked by disinterest and pointlessness, collapse and deranged outcomes, pointlessness, or failure. Even when a North Korea Watcher achieves success, it is near impossible to measure and equally easy to deride. The North Korea Watcher field is not for the career-oriented.

Paranoia. Sooner or later, it gets to you. North Korea watchers know they themselves are under scrutiny—not just by the regime they study, but by their own governments, foreign intelligence services, and even rival analysts. Cyberattacks and phishing attempts are routine, particularly for those working on human rights or with defector communities. Some have had their emails hacked, their social media cloned, or their private communications leaked. Others receive vague warnings from embassies or are quietly dropped from projects because of “sensitivity.” The threat isn’t just theoretical; it’s ambient—an ever-present hum that forces caution in everything from digital hygiene to casual conversations at academic conferences.

This constant sense of being watched cultivates a tight-lipped, slightly suspicious culture within the field. Trust is given sparingly. Analysts swap tips on encrypted messaging apps, check URLs with neurotic intensity, and hesitate before opening attachments—even from colleagues. Some avoid publishing under their real names. Even among allies, there’s an unspoken awareness that what is said could be used, misinterpreted, or passed along. In such an environment, healthy skepticism can easily tip into full-blown paranoia. But for many, that edge is simply part of the job—because if you’re watching North Korea long enough, you eventually start watching your back too.

Now there’s a multitude of other reasons. The job pretty much demands it.

North Korea Watchers constantly deal with ambiguity. Many North Korea watchers spend their time poring over grainy satellite images, decoding propaganda phrases, analyzing parade footage, or inferring military intentions from the arrangement of chairs at a summit. That kind of work requires a mix of paranoia, creativity, and hyperfocus—traits not typically balanced in most professions.

North Korea Watchers also constantly deal with partial truths and strategic silence. Watching North Korea means becoming comfortable with uncertainty. Solid facts are rare. Much of the work is speculation informed by habit, historical patterns, and intuition. It attracts people who are oddly at ease in the grey areas of knowledge—people who can live with never fully knowing if they’re right.

In short, North Korea Watchers are different because the subject demands a mix of skills and instincts that most people neither need nor want to develop. It’s not just about North Korea—it’s about who you become when you stare too long at a country that doesn’t want to be seen.

So next time you find yourself at a North Korea conference—coffee in hand, awkwardly circling the book table—take a good look around. Notice the mismatched blazers, the intense eye contact, the person mumbling acronyms to themselves in the corner. These aren’t just oddities; they’re the lifeblood of one of the strangest, most specialized corners of global analysis. In a field defined by shadows, it’s only fitting that some of those who study it carry a little strangeness of their own.