Hanawon, 26 years later

Casey Lartigue Jr., center, moderates a forum on the 20th anniversary of the founding of Hanawon, on July 7, 2019. Courtesy of Freedom Speakers International

By Casey Lartigue Jr.

• Published Jul 12, 2025 2:47 PM KST

“Hanawon was one of the worst things to happen to me in my life.” That was the verdict of one North Korean refugee describing her experience at Hanawon, South Korea’s resettlement center for newly arrived defectors.

I have heard some really negative things from North Korean refugees over the past 13 years about their Hanawon experience. But what is the overall experience of North Korean refugees?

On July 8, 1999, the South Korean government opened Hanawon — the official name is the Settlement Support Center for North Korean Refugees. It was established in response to the influx of North Korean refugees fleeing North Korea in the wake of the Arduous March, when an estimated 500,000 to 3 million North Koreans died from starvation or disease.

Hanawon has served as the most common gateway into South Korean society for most of the 34,000 North Korean refugees who have escaped to South Korea since the late 1990s. The first campus opened in Anseong, Gyeonggi Province; another was later established in Hwacheon, Gangwon Province, exclusively for men.

Last year, to mark its 25th anniversary, Freedom Speakers International (FSI) published “Escape from North Korea, New Beginnings in South Korea,” co-edited by FSI co-founder Lee Eun-koo and me. It is a collection of firsthand testimonials from 20 North Korean refugees who have studied at FSI.

Instead of offering an official narrative or sanitized success stories, we gathered raw, personal reflections — some positive, some neutral, others deeply critical. The result is probably the first publication of its kind to present Hanawon through the unfiltered voices of those who actually lived it.

The book is divided into three sections: positive, neutral, and negative testimonials. Each section reveals a different dimension of what Hanawon has meant over the years. Of the 20 contributors, seven had positive testimonials, six were neutral, and seven were negative.

For some contributors, Hanawon was a place of relief and discovery. A woman named Joohui described it as a kind of vacation. After years of hiding in China, Hanawon gave her “a chance to rest, to breathe.” She learned to dance to K-pop songs, attended music performances by U.S. soldiers, and said she would never forget visiting a South Korean home for the first time. Minsook called it “the most comfortable and enjoyable time I’ve had in Korea.” For her, Hanawon meant structure, companionship, and a temporary sense of safety.

Others gave more mixed reviews. One North Korean refugee said Hanawon was boring but useful — especially the language training and time to think about her future. Another woman recalled how the staff warned her that she would be bullied if she attended a regular South Korean high school, only for her to later thrive in a mainstream school. A North Korean refugee who had escaped as a teenager said he appreciated the lessons but felt the center was so tightly controlled that it reminded him of military life in North Korea.

Then there were those whose memories are heavy with disappointment, or even trauma. “Hanawon was hell,” one refugee said bluntly. Another said, “I hope you can destroy the Hanawon system.” Another refugee described skipping activities, locking herself in her room, and refusing even the religious services because they “felt like manipulation with snacks.”

The final chapter of the book is an excerpt from Greenlight to Freedom, the memoir I co-wrote with North Korean refugee Han Song-mi. She was just 17 when she arrived at Hanawon in 2011, nearly six years after being separated from her mother. In her account, she learns how to turn on a computer for the first time and awkwardly tries to bite into a fake apple at a buffet during a special outing for recent arrivals. She said the greatest moment of her life came when she was reunited with her mom during her stay at Hanawon.

Song-mi’s story is one of humor, pain, and growth — but above all, honesty. And that honesty runs throughout the book. Some refugees say Hanawon saved them. Others say it nearly broke them. Many say both are true.

So what happened to the North Korean refugee who said Hanawon was the worst thing that happened to her?

“I don’t regret escaping,” she told me in an interview. “But if I had known what I would go through, I would have trained as a fighter to be prepared for the chaos of the Thai jail and Hanawon.”

She is now a successful businesswoman who does a lot of work in China and Southeast Asia. She says Hanawon was like a punch in the face to start her life in South Korea, but now she has settled down, although she says she has avoided contact with the South Korean government and is not in contact with other North Korean refugees.

She said she faced a dilemma several years ago when she realized she needed English for business and reluctantly joined our English program for North Korean refugees. In time, she said, it became one of the best decisions she ever made and it made her feel grateful, despite her terrible start, that she escaped to South Korea.

After we published the book, she said she was honored to have been quoted. She still had not changed her view of Hanawon.