“Kicked out for using a rice cooker” Power watchdogs grow unchecked amid North Korea’s chronic energy crisis

Lee Jong-woo,

Former Official in Charge of Judicial and Prosecution Affairs 

at the Workers' Party of Korea

North Korea keeps building apartments and factories, but electricity remains scarce and tightly controlled, giving power watchdogs increasingly unchecked authority.

For decades, North Korea’s electricity situation has seen little improvement. In 2024, the country’s annual electricity output is about 22 billion kWh—only around 3% of what South Korea generates, which is close to 700 billion kWh.

Most of North Korea’s electricity still comes from aging hydroelectric plants built in the 1960s and 70s with Soviet and Chinese support, now running at very low efficiency.

During winter or peak farming seasons, power distribution often comes to a halt. Outside of Pyongyang, many areas receive electricity for only one or two hours a day, if at all.

In factories, production is sluggish, with operation rates hovering around 20–30%. For regular citizens, using electricity at home has become almost a luxury.

Reports by the International Energy Agency and the United Nations say that over 60% of households in North Korea lack stable electricity access, with rural areas struggling even to keep lights on at night.

Because of this dire energy shortage, the government has imposed strict limits on household electricity use.

Even common appliances like electric rice cookers, frying pans, heaters, or heated blankets require official approval. Using them without permission can lead to penalties.

If residents are caught using such devices, the government confiscates the items and fines them between 30,000 and 50,000 won.

Well-off families or those with government ties often avoid punishment by bribing the power watchdogs with up to 200,000 or 300,000 won.

They pay to quietly resolve the issue without official reports being filed. But average citizens, without money or influence, face severe punishments. In serious cases, they can be sent to labor camps or forcibly relocated to remote areas.

Corruption among power watchdogs is widespread—they frequently resell confiscated goods on the black market for profit, shielding the wealthy while preying on the powerless.

One insider explained, “They team up with their superiors to secretly sell seized goods for profit. What was supposed to be law enforcement has turned into just another business.”

The country’s ongoing power crisis is not only making everyday life harder for its people—it’s also undermining the overall stability of the regime.

Frustrated citizens question the government's priorities: “What’s the point of building new apartments or factories if they can’t even keep the lights on?”