

Yet behind Kim Jong Un’s rhetoric lies a military machine whose strengths and weaknesses are far more nuanced than the regime would have outsiders believe.
As South Korea and the United States embarked on their annual Ulchi Freedom Shield exercises this week, the North Korean leader visited a navy destroyer and railed against what he called the “obvious expression” of hostile intent from Seoul and Washington. He vowed to expand nuclear capabilities in the face of these “provocations”. But the truth is that North Korea’s military, for all its dramatic parades and fiery pronouncements, is both formidable in some respects and hollow in others.
The heart of North Korea’s military strength lies in its nuclear arsenal. The Federation of American Scientists estimates that Pyongyang may have produced enough fissile material for up to 90 warheads, though only about 50 are believed to have been assembled. Even at the lower figure, this represents a significant capability. For a country under crushing sanctions, with a dilapidated economy and an isolated leadership, it is a remarkable achievement.
Nuclear weapons are not simply military assets for Pyongyang; they are political tools. Each test, each new missile launch, each boast about submarine-launched ballistic missiles is carefully calculated to remind the world that the Kim regime cannot be ignored. They serve as both deterrent and bargaining chip. Kim Jong Un knows that his regime’s survival depends on them.
The range and sophistication of North Korea’s delivery systems are also improving. Intercontinental ballistic missiles (ICBMs) such as the Hwasong-17 have been paraded in Pyongyang and tested in defiance of international law, raising concerns that the North can strike the continental United States. Medium-range systems, capable of hitting Japan and Guam, are already well established. Cruise missile development is advancing too, adding a further layer of complexity for allied defence planners.
The psychological effect of this arsenal is almost as potent as its actual destructive capacity. For South Korea, where the capital lies barely 35 miles from the border, the threat is existential. For Washington, the prospect of Pyongyang developing a reliable nuclear-tipped ICBM raises troubling questions about deterrence and escalation.
Beyond nuclear weapons, North Korea retains one of the world’s largest standing armies. With around 1.2 million active personnel and several million reserves, the Korean People’s Army (KPA) looks impressive on paper. The regime has built an extensive network of artillery along the Demilitarised Zone, much of it dug into hardened positions, capable of inflicting catastrophic damage on Seoul in the opening hours of a conflict.
But size does not necessarily equate to strength. Much of the North Korean arsenal is ageing, with equipment dating back to the Cold War or even the Korean War itself. Tanks are often obsolete, air defences patchy, and the air force woefully under-equipped compared to South Korea’s modern fleet of F-35s and American reinforcements. Training is also limited, with fuel shortages curtailing flying hours and exercises.
Morale is another question. While indoctrination is intense, the reality of military life in North Korea is grim. Conscripts serve for years in difficult conditions, with poor rations and limited medical support. Defectors often speak of hunger, disease, and disillusionment. In contrast, South Korean and American forces are far better trained, equipped, and motivated.
Kim Jong Un’s appearance on a navy destroyer this week was no coincidence. North Korea is eager to demonstrate progress at sea. The regime is reportedly building a third 5,000-tonne Choe Hyon-class destroyer by October next year, and testing both cruise and anti-air missiles for its warships. These moves are designed to suggest that Pyongyang is not content with being a land power alone.
Yet the reality is that North Korea’s navy is still a minor player. Its fleet is largely composed of ageing patrol boats, small submarines, and outdated vessels. The new destroyers may improve its capabilities, but they remain limited when compared with South Korea’s modernised navy, let alone the U.S. Seventh Fleet stationed in the Pacific. North Korea’s naval doctrine still relies heavily on asymmetry: using mini-submarines, torpedoes, and coastal defence rather than engaging in open sea combat.
Where the North does enjoy a real edge is in its missile programme. Ballistic and cruise missiles give Pyongyang the ability to strike across the peninsula and beyond, complicating allied defence strategies. Mobile launchers make detection and pre-emption difficult, while frequent testing demonstrates a determination to overwhelm missile defences.
The growing sophistication of these systems is a cause of genuine concern. Hypersonic glide vehicles, solid-fuel ICBMs, and manoeuvrable re-entry vehicles have all been claimed by North Korean state media, though their actual performance remains uncertain. Even so, the trajectory is clear: Pyongyang is investing heavily in ensuring it can threaten both regional and global targets.
For all its show of strength, North Korea’s military has glaring weaknesses. The country’s economy is in shambles, crippled by decades of mismanagement, corruption, and sanctions. Its gross domestic product is smaller than that of many small European states, severely limiting its ability to sustain prolonged conflict.
Technology is another area of weakness. While missiles and nuclear weapons receive investment, conventional systems lag behind. The air force is particularly outdated, with Soviet-era aircraft that would be no match for modern fighters. Cyber capabilities have improved, but they cannot substitute for broader technological deficiencies.
Logistics, too, are a major vulnerability. Sustaining a large-scale war effort requires reliable supply chains, fuel, spare parts, and medical services – all areas where North Korea struggles. Analysts doubt that the KPA could sustain offensive operations for long without collapsing under its own logistical burdens.
Perhaps North Korea’s greatest weakness is political. Its alliance network is threadbare. China remains its most important backer, but Beijing’s patience has limits. Russia has provided some support, particularly as it looks for partners amid its war in Ukraine, but the relationship is opportunistic rather than strategic. Beyond these two powers, North Korea has virtually no friends.
By contrast, South Korea is backed not only by the United States but by a global coalition that has consistently condemned North Korean provocations. NATO, the European Union, Japan, Australia, and others have all maintained sanctions and offered support to Seoul. Pyongyang is isolated, its economy cut off, its leadership increasingly paranoid.
Kim Jong Un’s calls to expand nuclear armament, then, reflect both strength and weakness. On one hand, he possesses the ultimate deterrent, capable of holding Seoul, Tokyo, and perhaps even Washington at risk. On the other, he presides over a brittle conventional force and a fragile economy, dependent on displays of power to mask vulnerability.
The Ulchi Freedom Shield exercises underscore this dynamic. To Washington and Seoul, they are defensive drills, rehearsing a response to invasion. To Pyongyang, they are a threat, used to justify further nuclear expansion. Both sides play their roles in a dangerous theatre, but it is Kim who must balance most precariously on the knife-edge of deterrence and collapse.
North Korea remains a paradox: at once powerful and weak, threatening and vulnerable. Its nuclear arsenal commands attention, its missile forces complicate defence, and its sheer unpredictability makes it a dangerous player. Yet behind the fearsome façade is a hollow state, whose economy and conventional forces lag far behind its ambitions.
For the outside world, the challenge lies in recognising both realities. To underestimate North Korea would be reckless; to overestimate it would be equally dangerous. Kim Jong Un thrives on illusion, projecting strength to conceal weakness. The task for South Korea, the United States, and their allies is to see through the illusion without triggering the very conflict everyone hopes to avoid.