The Rogue Duo: Russia and North Korea Are the Blind Leading the Blind into Oblivion

The Russia-North Korea partnership is akin to two sinking ships tying themselves together, hoping they'll somehow float—it's a tragic fantasy of failed despots grasping at straws while their empires crumble around them.

It seems that history is destined to repeat itself, especially for those who have not learned the lessons of defeat. The newly minted partnership between Russia and North Korea presents itself as a grandiose gesture of strength—a purported alliance meant to shake the Western world—but in reality, it resembles a partnership of losers, a sad marriage born out of desperation. Given what we've seen of the Russian military's weakness during its ongoing campaign in Ukraine, and North Korea's almost laughable military capabilities, this alliance is hardly the formidable threat that both leaders seem to believe.

To start with, Russia's military has been exposed in Ukraine as far less capable than it appeared on paper. What was once feared as one of the world's strongest armies has been significantly undermined by tactical blunders, low morale, and logistical nightmares. The Russian offensive, originally envisioned as a swift military operation, has dragged on for years with enormous casualties and limited territorial gains. Vladimir Putin's own desperation became evident in the summer of 2022 when Russia began searching for external military support—turning to Iran for drones and now to North Korea for munitions and troops. This begs the question: what does it say about a superpower if it has to rely on arguably the most isolated, impoverished regime in the world to sustain its war effort?

North Korea, under Kim Jong Un, has eagerly stepped into the role of Russia's munitions supplier. Reports indicate that since 2023, North Korea has sent over 6,700 containers of artillery ammunition to Russia to support its artillery-centric war effort in Ukraine. Pyongyang is fulfilling this role in exchange for much-needed food supplies, oil, and perhaps some technological assistance for its military programs. This kind of arrangement only highlights the transactional and opportunistic nature of the so-called alliance between these two nations. They are more like two people lost at sea, desperately clinging to each other for survival rather than forming a meaningful partnership that could truly challenge Western powers (The Diplomat, USNI News).

And now, North Korea is reportedly preparing to send troops to Russia to bolster the Kremlin's floundering efforts in Ukraine. If reports from South Korean intelligence are to be believed, Russian ships have already transported some 1,500 North Korean troops, and more could be on the way. However, these troops bring with them a peculiar kind of "experience." Historically, the North Korean army has primarily been used for brutal domestic repression rather than for engaging in external conflicts. Many North Korean soldiers have honed their skills firing upon unarmed civilians—defectors attempting to cross the border into China or perceived dissidents within North Korea itself. The last time North Korea engaged in a real international military conflict was in the 1950s, during the Korean War, and their forces were driven back, aided only by the intervention of China.

These troops have not experienced anything akin to the intensity of modern warfare in decades. Their most recent foreign experience involved building statues for African dictators in exchange for hard currency—hardly the rigorous kind of training that prepares an army for urban warfare against a highly motivated enemy like the Ukrainians. This unfamiliarity with genuine armed conflict and the brutal tactics of modern warfare will almost certainly turn North Korean troops into cannon fodder, as even experts from Oxford and former diplomats have pointed out. The cultural, linguistic, and logistical differences alone would make any form of operational integration with Russian forces challenging. In Russia’s military, where ethnic prejudices abound, North Korean troops are likely to end up at the bottom of the pecking order—abused and expendable (Business Insider, USNI News, Council on Foreign Relations).

What is more, the very nature of this partnership is telling. In June 2024, Russia and North Korea signed a "comprehensive strategic partnership treaty" that vowed mutual assistance if either nation was attacked. The move was more symbolic than practical, with both nations hoping to present an image of unity against the West, even as the rest of the world sees them for what they are—two regimes under considerable strain, both economically and politically, trying to make a show of force. Kim Jong Un’s regime remains internationally isolated, impoverished, and subject to crushing sanctions, while Putin, facing backlash for his aggression in Ukraine, has found himself without meaningful allies apart from countries like Iran and now North Korea (NK News).

The truth is that this partnership is not about challenging the existing world order in any meaningful way. It is about desperation and survival. North Korea is getting oil and wheat, while Russia is getting artillery shells and, as it appears now, "guest workers" in the form of North Korean soldiers. The treaty also speaks of a possible exchange of technology that may improve North Korea's missile program, though Russia has so far been hesitant to provide nuclear technology directly. Yet the risk remains that Putin may be willing to cross that line if his desperation deepens further. The partnership, if anything, makes both nations more dangerous in terms of nuclear proliferation, but not necessarily more capable of winning wars (Council on Foreign Relations).

North Korea's involvement will likely do little to improve Russia's military situation in Ukraine. The Ukrainian armed forces, well-supplied by NATO and Western countries, have the experience, training, and motivation that North Korean troops fundamentally lack. This partnership exposes North Korea’s willingness to involve itself in a conflict that has nothing to do with the Korean Peninsula—a decision that may have dire consequences domestically if soldiers begin returning home in body bags. Already, there are reports of desertions among North Korean personnel who are allegedly fleeing into Russian territory to escape the dire conditions and abuse they face (Business Insider).

Ultimately, this partnership looks like a last-ditch effort by two nations that are increasingly backed into a corner. They are clinging to each other not because they share ideological values or have complementary strengths, but because they have nowhere else to turn. As the Russian invasion of Ukraine drags on and Moscow's losses continue to mount, the image of a mighty Russia is beginning to crumble, exposing a hollowed-out military that now needs the help of a regime that itself barely survives off of international aid and repression.

The Russia-North Korea partnership is not the birth of a new world axis but rather the desperate union of two pariah states. Putin and Kim can sign all the treaties they want, exchange handshakes, and promise mutual defense assistance, but what they are doing is simply pooling their weaknesses, not their strengths. As the Ukrainian and Western response continues to show, this is less of an alliance to be feared and more of a curious sideshow—a tragic, almost farcical attempt to project power where there is none. If anything, it brings to mind the old adage: "Two wrongs don't make a right"—but in this case, they certainly make for a very misguided military adventure.