COMMENTARY: Seoul accepts the Kursk prisoners — dignity against barbarism

Ri and Paek: names that define an era

There are moments when geopolitics acquires a human face. Ri, 27 years old, sniper. Paek, 22 years old, infantryman. Two soldiers from the Korean People's Army deployed in the Russian region of Kursk in October–November 2024, captured by Ukrainian forces in January 2025. Wounded, far from home, caught up in a war whose full stakes they probably did not grasp, they nonetheless found the strength to say something simple and courageous: they want to go to South Korea. Not North Korea. Not Russia. South Korea.

On June 23, 2026, South Korea's Ministry of Foreign Affairs officially declared that South Korea would accept all North Korean prisoners of war captured in Ukraine who wish to go there, firmly opposing any forced repatriation to Russia or North Korea. This decision — which sounds simple to state — is in reality the result of months of complex diplomatic negotiations, international legal pressure, and a moral resolve that many countries would struggle to maintain.

A historical precedent without equivalent

This case is without precedent in the annals of international humanitarian law since the Korean War. For the first time, North Korean soldiers captured outside the Korean Peninsula are expressing the desire to defect to the South. For the first time, Russia — formal ally of Pyongyang — is explicitly demanding these prisoners as part of exchanges with Ukraine. For the first time, the UN must clarify the application of the principle of non-refoulement to prisoners of war fighting for a foreign army.

I cannot read the statements of Ri and Paek without being moved. These men risked their lives in a war imposed by a regime they did not choose, and now they are risking them again — this time by telling the truth about what they want. It is an act of courage that many in our free societies do not understand because they have never had to perform it.

The Geneva Convention and its tensions

The legal framework of this case is complex and reveals tensions within international humanitarian law. Article 118 of the Third Geneva Convention stipulates that prisoners of war must be released and repatriated "without delay" after the cessation of active hostilities. Applied literally, this would mean sending Ri and Paek back to Russia — which would then transfer them to North Korea.

But international law is more nuanced than that. The 2020 commentaries on the Third Geneva Convention, published by the International Committee of the Red Cross (ICRC), specify that the repatriation obligation must be understood as subject to an exception when prisoners face a real risk of violation of their fundamental rights in their country of origin. This is precisely the principle of non-refoulement, which prohibits the return of a person to a place where they risk persecution, torture, or execution.

The UN and the High Commissioner for Human Rights

UN High Commissioner for Human Rights Volker Turk declared in May 2026 that the principle of non-refoulement applies to North Korean prisoners of war held by Ukraine. The UN Special Rapporteur on human rights in North Korea, Elizabeth Salmon, had in turn clarified in February 2026 that "the Ukrainian government is very well aware of the situation in North Korea and has responded that there may be reasonable grounds to believe that [the two prisoners of war] could be subjected to torture" if repatriated.

The Korea Institute for National Unification (KINU), in a February 2026 report, estimated that there is a "strong likelihood" that the charge of treason would apply to Ri and Paek if they were repatriated — a charge that, in the North Korean context, could lead to the death penalty.

I am struck by the clarity of international law on this point, and by the resistance of some to applying it. The principles of non-refoulement and refugee protection exist precisely for cases like this one — individuals who risk their lives if sent home. Ri and Paek are not a theoretical exception: they are the perfect textbook case.

Moscow demands its soldiers back — for Pyongyang's sake

The most troubling episode in this affair is revealed by South Korean parliamentarian Yu Yong-weon, who confirmed in March 2026 that Russia had included the names of Ri and Paek on its lists of prisoners to recover during exchanges with Ukraine — and had done so multiple times. In other words, Moscow is seeking to recover these soldiers not to treat them humanely, but to hand them to a regime that would in all likelihood execute them.

This recovery attempt reveals the level of cynicism in the Russian-North Korean alliance. Kim Jong-un personally supervised the deployment of these soldiers. Their capture represents a humiliation for the regime — proof that North Koreans prefer to surrender to the enemy rather than die for their leader. The forced return of these men would serve both to eliminate uncomfortable witnesses and to deter other soldiers from allowing themselves to be captured.

Prisoner exchanges as a pressure tool

This affair illustrates how wartime prisoner exchanges can become instruments of political pressure. Ukraine has released and recovered tens of thousands of combatants in exchanges with Russia. Some Ukrainian officials, according to the South Korean press, reportedly suggested that the two North Korean prisoners could be exchanged for Ukrainian combatants held in Russia.

This negotiation logic — understandable from Ukraine's point of view — clashes head-on with the humanitarian principle that Seoul is defending. South Korea clearly communicated to Ukraine its opposition to any transactional logic in this matter. The lives of Ri and Paek are not a bargaining chip. That is Seoul's position, and it is morally correct.

I understand the Ukrainian calculus — recovering its fighters is an absolute priority, and diplomatic tools are limited. But using two young men who risked their lives to surrender and who are requesting asylum as bargaining chips with Russia would be a betrayal of the principles that distinguish democracies from the regimes they are fighting.

The Korean Constitution and citizens of the North

South Korea's position rests on a solid constitutional foundation. The South Korean Constitution defines the territory of the Republic of Korea as encompassing "the entire Korean Peninsula and its adjacent islands" — meaning, legally, that all North Koreans are South Korean citizens. Foreign Ministry spokesperson Park Il confirmed on June 23, 2026: "If these individuals wish to come to South Korea, we will accept them all, and in accordance with the principles of international law, we absolutely cannot accept forced repatriation to Russia or North Korea against their free will."

This position has a remarkable moral clarity. It implies standing firm against Russia and indirectly against North Korea, two powers with which South Korea maintains delicate relations. It implies navigating diplomatically complex waters with Ukraine, an important partner whose priorities diverge on this point. And it implies assuming a potentially transformative precedent: if these two soldiers arrive in Seoul, every future captured North Korean soldier will know that an alternative exists.

The June 30 talks: a possible turning point

Ukrainian Foreign Minister Andrii Sybiha and South Korean Foreign Minister Cho Hyun were to meet in Seoul on June 30, 2026. This meeting could be decisive. Discussions would cover the situation of North Korean prisoners of war, but also bilateral military cooperation, the situation of North Korean troops in Russia, and peace prospects. South Korea is currently supplying defense materials to Ukraine — cooperation that creates diplomatic leverage that Seoul should use to protect its constitutional citizens held in Ukraine.

I sincerely hope that the June 30 talks result in a decision to transfer Ri and Paek to South Korea. It would be an act of individual justice, certainly, but also a powerful political signal: that the international community does not allow authoritarian regimes to dispose of their own citizens as they see fit, even in wartime.

Non-refoulement precedents in modern wars

The history of international humanitarian law contains examples of prisoners who refused repatriation. During the Korean War itself — between 1950 and 1953 — tens of thousands of North Korean and Chinese prisoners of war had refused to be repatriated, preferring to remain in Taiwan or South Korea. This crisis prolonged armistice negotiations by nearly two years. The principle that a person cannot be forced to return to a country where their life is at risk has been fundamental ever since.

The case of Ri and Paek is even more clear-cut. Unlike a regular soldier fighting for his own country, they were sent to fight for a foreign country, in a war that was not theirs, under orders they could not refuse. They deserve international legal protection all the more.

Human dignity as foreign policy

What South Korea is defending is something greater than the fate of two individuals. It is the principle that human dignity does not disappear in war zones, that authoritarian regimes have no right to dispose of their captured citizens as recoverable property, and that democracies have the moral obligation to offer refuge to those who seek it. This principle, defended with consistency and courage by Seoul, deserves to be upheld and amplified by all who share these values.

There is something deeply symbolic in the fact that it is South Korea — itself a divided country, one that knows better than anyone the cost of totalitarianism — that is defending with such firmness the right of these soldiers to a free life. This is democracy in action, not in words.

Time is working against the prisoners

Time is a crucial factor. Under the Geneva Convention, Ukraine can theoretically detain prisoners of war until the end of hostilities. If a ceasefire were concluded quickly, pressure for immediate prisoner exchanges could make it difficult to keep Ri and Paek in Ukraine outside official exchange channels. Diplomatic negotiations must conclude before a comprehensive peace agreement closes this window.

South Korea's National Human Rights Commission (NHRC) had not yet issued a formal recommendation in March 2026 due to diplomatic complications. Time lost is time during which Ri and Paek remain in a precarious situation, potentially exposed to growing pressure for exchanges. Human Rights Watch published an urgent call in February 2026 for Ukraine to work with South Korea and the EU to ensure the protection of these prisoners from any forced return.

China in the background

A frequently silent but crucial actor: China. Beijing maintains close ties with Pyongyang and is closely watching this affair. The transfer of North Korean soldiers to South Korea would be seen by Beijing as a troubling precedent — a demonstration that citizens of authoritarian regimes can access freedom in neighboring countries. China has every interest in seeing this case resolved quietly and in Pyongyang's favor. This is an additional pressure on Ukraine and South Korea that the outside world is struggling to measure.

China in all this — that's what we don't hear enough about. Beijing is watching. If Ri and Paek arrive in Seoul alive and free, every North Korean now knows that an exit exists. That is precisely the signal Kim and Xi do not want to send to their own populations.

The historical precedents of foreign fighters

The history of modern conflicts is strewn with soldiers fighting in wars not their own. The International Brigades of the Spanish Civil War (1936–1939) — anti-fascist fighters from around the world — are the most romanticized example. But the reality is often less glorious: mercenaries, conscripts deployed without their full consent, soldiers deceived about the nature of the conflict in which they find themselves. North Korean soldiers in Russia clearly belong to this last category — not ideological volunteers, but men deployed by a totalitarian regime that leaves them little or no choice.

The Geneva Convention makes no distinction between a soldier who voluntarily chose to fight and a conscript sent against his will — both are entitled to the protection of humanitarian law. But the question of post-conflict return is different: when repatriation to the country of origin amounts to a death sentence, humanitarian principles come into conflict. The case of Ri and Paek is the first concrete test of this dilemma in an armed conflict of the 21st century.

Lessons from Korean War prisoners

The most directly relevant precedent is that of the armistice negotiations of the Korean War (1950–1953), which stalled for nearly two years over the question of prisoners refusing repatriation. Ultimately, the principle of "voluntary repatriation" prevailed — tens of thousands of North Korean and Chinese prisoners chose not to return home. This precedent strengthened international humanitarian law in a direction that Moscow and Pyongyang are now seeking to contest. History is coming full circle in a troubling way: seventy years after North Korea attempted to invade the South, its captured soldiers are once again seeking refuge in South Korea.

Ukraine, by holding Ri and Paek since January 2025 without forcibly repatriating them, is already applying de facto the principle of voluntary repatriation. This choice — under constant Russian pressure, and in a context of prisoner exchange negotiations with vital stakes — testifies to a sense of humanitarian obligations that Ukraine's partners should salute rather than complicate.

The history of the Korean War was marked by the question of prisoners who did not want to go home. Seventy years later, history is repeating itself with the same actors — North Korea — and the same fundamental choices: respecting the will of human beings, or sending them back to a regime that will kill them. The answer must be the same as in 1953.

A signal for future North Korean soldiers

If Ri and Paek are transferred to South Korea, the impact extends well beyond their individual case. This precedent would create a new reality for all North Korean soldiers deployed abroad: the possibility of an exit. Currently, North Korean doctrine rests on the total impossibility of such an alternative — surrendering means being recovered by Moscow and sent back to Pyongyang. If this equation changes, if soldiers know they can surrender to Ukrainian forces and obtain protection in South Korea, the psychological calculus of every North Korean soldier on the battlefield shifts.

This does not mean a wave of desertions would follow — mutual surveillance among North Korean soldiers is intense, and reprisals against families remaining at home constitute a powerful control mechanism. But even a marginal change in the psychological dynamic of North Korean troops would be a victory for democracies. And for Kim Jong-un, such a precedent would be an existential threat to his ability to deploy soldiers abroad.

The obligation of democracies: coherence between values and acts

The democracies supporting Ukraine do so in the name of universal values — freedom, human dignity, the right of peoples to self-determination. These values cannot stop at the boundary of political utility. Handing Ri and Paek over to Russia to facilitate Ukrainian prisoner exchanges would betray those values flagrantly. It would say that human dignity is negotiable when strategic calculations demand it — exactly the message that Moscow and Pyongyang are trying to send.

South Korea has chosen coherence. The Ukrainian and South Korean ministers who were to meet in Seoul on June 30, 2026 had the opportunity to build that coherence together — to demonstrate that democracies can navigate the tensions between strategic calculations and humanitarian obligations without abandoning the latter. That choice will have consequences well beyond two soldiers: it will define the kind of international actors these nations choose to be.

At its core, the Ri and Paek affair is a test of the sincerity of the values we claim to defend. It is easy to talk about human dignity in speeches. It is far harder to defend it when it carries a real diplomatic cost. Seoul is willing to pay that cost. The rest of the international community should do the same.

A test for Ukraine, a test for Europe

The affair of the North Korean prisoners of war is a coherence test for every democracy engaged alongside Ukraine. Supporting Ukraine means supporting the values that drive it to fight: freedom, human dignity, the right of peoples to self-determination. Allowing Ri and Paek to be handed to a regime that would execute them would betray those very values. Ukraine has received billions in military and financial support — in return, it can be asked to hold firm on this fundamental point of humanitarian law.

Barbarism must lose, once more

Allowing the forced return of Ri and Paek to North Korea would be vindicating Kim Jong-un. It would be saying that his soldiers belong to him, that they are his property, that their will counts for nothing. I reject that logic. And I believe that most people, upon reading their words — "I want to go to South Korea" — reject it too.

The decision of Seoul to accept all North Korean prisoners of war who make that request is a rare act of political dignity. In a world where strategic calculations often override humanitarian considerations, South Korea chooses to place human dignity at the heart of its foreign policy. It is an example that other nations should follow. And it is, at bottom, the most fundamental difference between the democracies and the authoritarian regimes they confront.

By Maxime Marquette, columnist

Editorial stance

I am not a journalist but a columnist and analyst. My expertise lies in observing and analysing the geopolitical, economic and strategic dynamics that shape our world. My work is to take political strategies apart, to understand global economic movements, to put the decisions of international actors in context and to offer analytical perspectives on the changes that are redefining our societies.

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