South Korea's first defector-turned-lawyer goes from fighting for survival to fighting for human rights

[NEIGHBORS FROM THE NORTH] 

North Korean refugees face unimaginable peril to reach freedom, but their tribulations hardly end with their escape. Cultural differences often limit opportunities to earn a living in South Korea. In this series, the Korea JoongAng Daily meets defectors who have found their niche, exploring how their experiences and backgrounds in the North have influenced their work. — Ed. 

On a recent morning, attorney Lee Young-hyeon received a panicked call from someone claiming to be a North Korean defector. 

The individual explained that they had just served time in South Korea for doing drugs — specifically, bingdu, the North Korean word for crystal methamphetamine — only to use the drug again. They wanted advice on what to do.

As a North Korean defector himself, Lee understood the individual’s struggles in navigating South Korea’s legal system, as bingdu use is widespread in North Korea. Knowing what the person's best path would be under the circumstances, Lee calmly advised the individual to turn themselves in to the police. 

“They need to seek help from the government to put their addiction to an end once and for all,” Lee said in an interview with the Korea JoongAng Daily at his office in Seocho District, southern Seoul, on Aug. 18. “It’s no use hiding; they need to face the punishment.” 

The caller is one of many North Korean defectors who turn to Lee for legal help, knowing that he well understands the hardships of settling in South Korea — because he’s been in their shoes before. 

The 43-year-old attorney is South Korea’s first North Korean defector-turned-lawyer. He currently works in the law firm Ire. 

One of his most recent cases involved a defector’s first lawsuit against the North Korean regime. The plaintiff, Choi Min-kyeong, filed the claim for damages in July last year, saying she was tortured in detention after Chinese authorities forcibly sent her back to the North. Choi entered South Korea in 2012 on her fifth attempt to defect since 1997. 

On Aug. 28, the Seoul Central District Court ruled in favor of Choi and granted her claim for the full 50 million won ($37,000) in damages. 

In 2024, he helped get justice for five zainichi Koreans (ethnic Koreans living in Japan) who migrated from Japan to North Korea after being lured by propaganda that portrayed the North as a “paradise on Earth.” Before defecting to the South, they were among 90,000 zainichi who took part in a “repatriation” campaign heavily promoted by the Chongryon, the pro-Pyongyang association of Korean residents in Japan, between 1959 and 1984. 

A Seoul court ruled in their favor for the damages claim they filed for abuse they had endured during their time in North Korea. 

Lee also specializes in criminal defense, general civil litigation, insurance and corporate consulting. But his work serves a larger purpose: advocating for North Korean human rights, providing legal advice to fellow defectors and even mentoring them through organizations such as South Korea’s Ministry of Unification.

His own journey helps explain why he is so dedicated to supporting others on a similar path. 

From famine to freedom 

Lee grew up in poverty in Hamhung, South Hamgyong Province, where even putting food on the table was a daily struggle. 

This was particularly severe in North Korea in the 1990s, when the country suffered a mass famine called the Arduous March. The death toll is estimated at up to 3 million people during this time, though numbers vary due to lack of data. 

Lee was 14 years old in 1997 when he set out on foot with his uncle to try and find some rice in China to bring back home, with his mother’s blessing. 

Little did anyone know that Lee would never return. 

Lee lost his uncle while swimming across the Tumen River bordering North Korea and China. Alone and terrified, Lee looked over at North Korea from a riverbank, wondering what his next step should be. But he couldn’t bring himself to go back home. 

Lee instead decided to stay in China, where he lived for five years as an illegal immigrant. For two of those years, he lived in a shelter for North Korean refugees, which was operated by a missionary. 

He also drifted from region to region during this period, including Shenyang, Dandong, Qinhuangdao and Yanbian, careful at all times not to get caught as he would be at risk getting sent back to North Korea, where he would face harsh criminal punishment or even death. 

“Every North Korean defector living in China dreams of coming to South Korea,” Lee said. “We would watch South Korean dramas and news on television, awed by the freedom and abundance we saw. The problem was that we had no idea how to get there.” 

That all changed in 2002 when 25 North Koreans, including some Lee was living with at the shelter, suddenly burst into the Spanish embassy in Beijing, demanding asylum. They threatened suicide if they were to be forcibly repatriated to North Korea.

The incident sparked intense media interest and became both a crisis and opportunity for Lee. For years, to prevent being caught, North Korean defectors in China had been posing as Chinese orphans. But now that their cover was blown, it was only a matter of time before the Chinese authorities would come after them. They had to escape as soon as possible. 

The missionary found connections that would help Lee cross over to Mongolia, where he stayed at a temporary settlement that he described to be similar to an inn, and went through a security check by the Mongolian government for about a month. 

After it was confirmed that Lee was a refugee, he was finally sent to South Korea with a forged passport and plane ticket issued by the South Korean embassy in Mongolia. 

Serving a new purpose 

After a 19-year-old Lee arrived in South Korea in 2002, he wondered: What was he going to do with his newfound life? 

“The journey I took coming to South Korea was rough and thus far I did not have an easy life,” Lee recalled. “But I was thankful that I had made it. I decided that I should dedicate the rest of my life to helping North Koreans.” 

How that determination ultimately came to fruition began with Lee’s decision to return to school. 

At an age when his peers would have been heading to college, Lee instead enrolled in high school to make up for the education he had missed. The decision paid off — he made it into the prestigious Yonsei University’s undergraduate College of Law and later continued his studies at Kyungpook National University’s graduate law school. 

“North Koreans have no dignity, human rights or basic freedom. I wanted to pursue a profession that could help protect those rights, and I realized that becoming a lawyer could create that path for me,” Lee said. 

“I knew it was going to be a challenge from the start,” he continued. “After all, the bar exam is difficult even for people born and raised in South Korea. I had to push myself beyond everything I had.” 

Financial support was not available to Lee. He studied with other test-takers at the library because he could not afford to enroll in a bar exam prep school. His meals would typically end within five minutes to give him more time to study.

But passing the South Korean bar was not easy. Lee finally succeeded on his fifth and last attempt. In South Korea, law school graduates are allowed to take the annual bar exam only five times within five years of earning their master’s degree. 

“I think my success has since given a hopeful message to other North Korean defectors: That they can achieve anything as long as they try really hard and never give up,” Lee said. “When I first passed, I thought of my mother first. I was sad that I was never able to tell her the great news.” 

The North's rigged legal game 

Legal professionals in North Korea have very much different roles than those in South Korea. Their job isn’t to defend their client and prove their innocence: It’s to prioritize the state’s interest. 

This means that verdicts are usually decided even before a trial begins, regardless of whether the defendant is guilty. 

“The most important thing is proving how loyal you are to the regime and leader Kim Jong-un, as well as your commitment to upholding the socialist system,” Lee said, adding that bar exams typically exist only as a formality. As lawyers, prosecutors and judges are treated as tools for developing cadres for the North’s ruling Workers’ Party of Korea, the positions are filled by appointment. 

“Sometimes lawyers may try to force a false confession out of the defendants, and judges are unable to rule objectively in accordance with the Constitution, law and their conscience.” 

It’s why cases tend to end after the first-instance ruling, despite North Korea having a two-tier court system, meaning that one appeal is allowed. 

“Because the sentence has already been decided by the party, appealing it is essentially seen as going against the party, which could result in an even heavier sentence,” Lee said. 

As North Korea is not a rule-of-law state, many defectors have difficulty understanding the authority of South Korea’s legal system as they adjust to life here. 

Among North Korean defectors in prison, drug offenders make up the majority, at 34.4 percent as of last year, according to data released by South Korea’s Ministry of Justice. Bingdu is the most abused drug in North Korea, commonly used as a painkiller, and it has a long history of being smuggled into South Korea through China. 

“They say that there are people who have never done drugs, but there’s no such thing as someone who’s only done them once,” Lee said. “Government agencies need to pay more attention to this issue and take a more active approach to finding ways to resolve it.” 

The information revolution 

Lee is a lawyer who wears many hats. He is also the head of Korea Internet Studio (KIS), an internet broadcasting network launched last year that provides information, such as news briefings and settlement-related advice, to North Korean defectors living abroad. 

KIS produces videos in both English and Korean which are available on YouTube and other platforms abroad, including China and Russia. The network has accumulated over 1 million views. 

“Most of our viewers are from the United States and South Korea, but there are also many from China, Ukraine and even countries in Africa,” Lee said. “We receive a lot of feedback from our viewers who tell us what kind of videos they want to see in the future. We’re proud to provide content that meets the needs of North Korean defectors.” 

The ultimate goal of KIS is rooted in the power of information, which Lee believes is the strongest and fastest way to bring about change in North Korea. 

“If more and more North Koreans gain access to information from the outside world, the regime won’t be able to maintain the same level of control,” Lee said. 

Lee also works as the secretary general of the Korean Bar Association’s Human Rights Association and consultant for the Unification Ministry, where he provides legal mentoring and education for North Korean defectors. 

Since Lee began practicing law, he has seen two more North Korean defectors become attorneys as well as an increase in law school students. It’s rewarding to see many more defectors follow in his footsteps, he said, but at the same time, he makes sure to tell aspiring lawyers to reflect deeply on why they want to pursue the profession. 

“The road is long and difficult, especially for many North Korean defectors who haven’t received a proper school education and are struggling to adjust to their new lives here at the same time,” Lee said. 

“Willpower and passion alone will not help you pass. You need clear motivation on why you’re taking this challenging path and a willingness to devote years of your youth to it, even if you might fail.” 

BY SHIN MIN-HEE [[email protected]]