Marketing In North Korea (29)
Distilling Hope from History
Jeon Byung-kil
Senior Consultant of YESInnovation
former of Secretary General of UniKorea Foundation
In the introduction to this series, I introduced the persona of Kim Yu-kyung, a fictional university student living in Pyongyang. She is an imagined character created against the backdrop of North Korea’s current reality.
Looking ahead, what role might this fictional Pyongyang woman, Kim Yu-kyung, play in the future of Korean Peninsula brand collaboration?
I intend to conclude this series by envisioning who Kim Yu-kyung will be ten years from now. This is purely a fictional story.
The Architect of a New Connection
When Kim Yu-kyung graduated from Pyongyang’s Jang Chol-gu University of Commerce with top grades, her future looked bright. She spoke excellent English, she worked hard, and she soon landed a job at North Korea’s Ministry of External Economic Relations. Her role was to gather information on foreign trade and help organize international events.
For almost ten years, Yu-kyung planned the Pyongyang International Trade Fair and traveled abroad as part of North Korea’s delegations to world expos. At these events, something kept catching her eye: brands.
She noticed that South Korea had famous global brands everyone recognized, but North Korea had almost none. Wherever she went, people compared the two Koreas’ economies, and the gap was obvious. South Koreans she met at fairs seemed confident, friendly, and quick to connect with foreigners—especially Americans and Europeans. Yu-kyung admired that.
This experience sparked her dream: to make North Korean brands known to the world and even build brand collaborations between North and South. She studied the World Intellectual Property Organization(WIPO)’s trademark system and read about successful brand collaborations in other countries. She began to imagine what such partnerships could mean for her own country.
Meanwhile, the political climate on the Korean Peninsula was changing. The U.S. and China still clashed, but both avoided full-scale confrontation. The North Korean nuclear issue was being managed under an international agreement package. In this new atmosphere, the North Korean government gave Yu-kyung a bold assignment: launch a “Brand Collaboration” project to help develop the country’s industries.
Until then, South-North collaborations in branding were rare. One of the only examples happened in 2002, when Samsung used a famous North Korean dancer, Jo Myong-ae of the Mansudae Art Troupe, in its Anycall phone commercials alongside Korean pop star Lee Hyori. The ad, with the slogan “Digital Exciting – One Sound,” drew massive attention. Years later, the 2018 film The Spy Gone North even brought that story back to the public eye.
As Yu-kyung thought about her new mission, she remembered the cosmetics she used in college—brands like Pomhyanggi(Meaning "spring fragrance") and Eunhasu(meaning Milky Way or Galaxy). She reflected on how universal the pursuit of beauty is. People everywhere want to look more attractive or a little younger, especially women. Cosmetic companies around the world build their products around these desires, and their brands carry that promise.
Yu-kyung wondered: Could North Korean brands, too, carry such meaning and value? Could they one day stand alongside South Korean names on the global stage?
State Slogans vs. Consumer Desires
Back in school, Kim Yu-kyung was taught something very different about brands. In most capitalist countries, brands focus on what consumers want—beauty, convenience, or fun. But in North Korea, brands were expected to carry political and cultural messages that the state wanted to spread.
Two “model brands” she often heard about were Pomhyanggi and Eunhasu, both North Korean cosmetic labels. Yu-kyung even preferred them over South Korean or foreign products, because she believed they represented the ideals she was taught to value.
But times were changing. As more South Korean TV dramas secretly made their way into North Korea through the informal markets, people began to admire the glowing makeup of K-drama actresses. While state media promoted Pomhyanggi and Eunhasu, many ordinary North Koreans were quietly dreaming of South Korean cosmetics.
Yu-kyung realized that if Pomhyanggi and Eunhasu wanted to survive, they needed to evolve. These brands had to listen to consumers’ desires and reflect the trends of the times. Only then could they compete—or even collaborate—with South Korean brands. She believed their future lay not in slogans but in helping people feel more beautiful than the characters they admired on screen.
Her imagination went further. What if Spring Fragrance filmed a commercial in Namwon, South Korea—the hometown of Chunhyang, the heroine of the classic Korean love story Chunhyangjeon (The Story of Chunhyang, Chunhyang means "spring fragrance."), from which the brand’s name came? And what if Eunhasu partnered with Samsung’s world-famous Galaxy smartphones for a joint promotion—cosmetics and technology side by side?
For Yu-kyung, these weren’t just dreams. They were a vision: North Korean brands stepping beyond national borders and entering the global stage. Of course, she knew this would only be possible if North Korean products met international standards of quality. But in her mind, that was the path toward the future.
More Than a Beer, A Symbol of Connection
Inspired by her dreams of North-South brand collaboration, Kim Yu-kyung thought about something close to her own life—Taedonggang Beer, the drink she often shared with her friends. She imagined it could become the centerpiece of a new Korean Peninsula brand collaboration.
Daedonggang Beer wasn’t just any beer. Back in the early 2000s, North Korean supreme leader Kim Jong-il gave an unusual order: “Create the world’s finest beer.” To make that happen, North Korea bought the entire brewing equipment of Ushers, a British brewery that had shut down, and also imported drying equipment from Germany. By 2002, Taedonggang Beer was being brewed in Pyongyang.
Because it began with such international origins and was linked directly to the leader’s interest, the beer drew global attention. At first, it was served only to party officials or foreigners living in Pyongyang. But soon, beer houses around the city began offering it to locals too. A pint (about 500ml) cost just 60 North Korean won—roughly the equivalent of 60 cents at the time—but on the black market, it sold for many times more.
The beer itself was special. It used clean underground water from the upper Taedong River, barley from Hwanghae Province, and hops from the northern mountains. With less carbonation and a thick, foamy head, it developed a unique taste. Foreign media even took notice: The Economist once reported that North Korean beer was “tastier than South Korean beer.”
North Korea never advertised the beer in the Western sense, but state media cleverly promoted it through “news reports” and features, such as coverage of the Taedonggang Beer Festival. In 2019, a special “beer tourism” program was even launched for foreigners to experience North Korean brewing culture.
Taedonggang Beer’s fame spread even further in 2020, when it unexpectedly appeared in the hit South Korean drama Crash Landing on You. In three different scenes, characters were shown drinking Daedonggang Beer: villagers bonding together, the heroine easing her loneliness, and the two main characters sharing an emotional moment. It wasn’t paid product placement, but the exposure acted like free advertising, making the beer famous beyond North Korea.
For Yu-kyung, this wasn’t just a drink. It was a symbol of connection—a product with both local pride and international recognition. She dreamed of building a brand collaboration around it, where Taedonggang Beer could bring people together across borders, just as it already had on screen.
A Cool Dream in a Bottle
When Kim Yu-kyung shared her first idea online—using Taedonggang Beer for a North-South Korea brand collaboration—the world had mixed reactions.
Some people were hopeful. They said, “If this business can become a seed for peace on the Korean Peninsula and in East Asia, that would be amazing.” Others were harshly critical. Many mocked the North Korean system itself, while some, who had painful memories of life under that regime, left angry comments.
At one point, people even posted parody images—photoshopping Taedonggang Beer trucks into pictures of North Korea’s military parade vehicles.
Yu-kyung thought long and hard. In the end, she chose three words to guide her project: dialogue, empathy, and reconciliation. They might not sound like the usual themes of a beer brand, but she wanted to build on beer’s natural image of being cool. Her concept became: cool conversations, smooth empathy, and warm reconciliation.
For “cool conversations,” she imagined holding joint beer festivals in two symbolic places: Yeongdeungpo Park by the Han River in Seoul and the riverside near Yanggakdo in Pyongyang.
Why those two? Yeongdeungpo Park used to be the birthplace of modern Korean beer. From 1933 until 1996, the site was home to breweries—first run by Japan’s Kirin, and later by South Korea’s OB Beer(Now Cass). There’s even an old brewing kettle still on display in the park today.
Meanwhile, Yanggakdo in Pyongyang was also home to a brewery built in the 1930s by the Japanese to spread beer culture in the northern part of the peninsula. For Yu-kyung, these places were the starting points of Korean beer history. What if the two Koreas held a joint beer festival here—celebrating beers from across the peninsula and the world, mixed with music and art? She believed cool conversations would flow naturally.
For “smooth empathy,” she looked at the food that goes with beer. In South Korea, drinking culture always comes with anju—snacks and dishes paired with beer. Yu-kyung dreamed of creating new recipes that combined Taedonggang Beer with local specialties from all over the peninsula: sauces from Jeju, seafood from Gangwon, spicy dishes from Jeolla, barbecue flavors from Gyeongsang, and more.
Even in North Korea, where dried pollack had long been a standard beer snack, she imagined introducing fresh and creative pairings.
If this idea spread, Taedonggang Beer could stop being just a Pyongyang brand and instead become a shared brand of the entire Korean Peninsula—something that represented not division, but connection.
The “Reconciliation” Beer Project
For Kim Yu-kyung, the final step of her North-South beer collaboration project was also the most emotional. She wanted to create a public campaign about healing and reconciliation—a message for both Koreas to let go of past pain and move toward unity.
Her idea? A limited-edition beer series called “Reconciliation.”
Daedonggang Beer already came in seven varieties, each with a slightly different alcohol level, taste, and recipe. Yu-kyung decided to design a story for each of the seven beers, tying them to key moments in Korea’s modern history. These wouldn’t be political or religious statements, but themes of healing, gratitude, and shared humanity.
She knew not everyone would agree. Some would welcome it, others might resist. But to Yu-kyung, reconciliation required courage—and even if the message wasn’t universally accepted, it was worth trying.
Special Edition 1: Taedonggang 1866
Inspired by the General Sherman Incident (an American merchant ship destroyed in the Taedong River in 1866): A message of reconciliation toward the United States."
• 4.5% alcohol, rich malt flavor with balanced bitterness.
Special Edition 2: Taedonggang 1894
The First Sino-Japanese War broke out in 1894, with a major battle taking place in Pyongyang along the Taedong River: A message of reconciliation towards Japan and China.
• 5.5% alcohol, light and clean taste, a classic beer style.
Special Edition 3: Taedonggang 1897
In 1897, Soongsil Academy, a modern educational institution, was founded in Pyongyang. A message of gratitude to those who worked for the enlightenment and modernization.
• 5.5% alcohol, a mix of barley and rice for a refreshing yet smooth flavor.
Special Edition 4: Taedonggang 1920
Honoring the Economic Self-Sufficiency Movement in 1920 led by Cho Man-sik, promoting economic independence.
• 4.5% alcohol, a blend of rice and barley with a crisp, clean taste.
Special Edition 5: Taedonggang 1950
A painful memory—the outbreak of the Korean War in 1950, which divided families and devastated the land. This edition carried a message of repentance and reflection.
• 4.5% alcohol, very light in color, with a soft rice aroma and gentle hops—aimed at women and lighter beer drinkers.
Special Edition 6: Taedonggang 1985
Commemorating the first reunion of separated families in Seoul and Pyongyang during the Chuseok holiday in 1985. A tribute to the millions of divided families.
• 6% alcohol, a dark beer with strong coffee flavor, rich and bitter, representing deep emotions.
Special Edition 8: Taedonggang 2000
Marking the first-ever inter-Korean summit in 2000, carrying a message of peace and hope for 80 million Koreans and neighboring countries.
• 4.5% alcohol, a light but refreshing dark beer with a hint of chocolate—appealing to a new generation.
When Yu-kyung finished her plan, she leaned back and thought: Now, it’s up to the people.
If consumers and surrounding environments were ready, they would embrace it. If not, it would take more time—or perhaps a new approach. She didn’t expect a perfect answer or instant success. But to her, the important thing was to keep searching for ways forward, believing that reconciliation could one day be poured into a glass, shared across a table, and toasted to a better future.