In the heart of North Korea, a new wave of government crackdowns has sent ripples of fear through the lives of young women. The regime, under Kim Jong Un’s leadership, has turned its focus to what it calls “capitalist” breast implants, launching a campaign that’s as much about ideology as it is about appearance. According to reports from South Korean media outlets such as Daily NK and corroborated by several international news organizations, North Korea’s security services began intensively targeting women suspected of undergoing cosmetic surgery, particularly breast augmentation, in September 2025.
The campaign’s centerpiece was a dramatic public trial held in mid-September at the cultural hall in Sariwon’s central district. The proceedings, described by Metro and Telegrafi, saw a doctor—a medical school dropout—paraded alongside two women in their twenties, all accused of participating in illegal breast surgery. The doctor allegedly performed the procedures at his home using silicone smuggled in from China. On stage, the trio stood with heads bowed, unable to meet the eyes of the assembled crowd. The two women explained their motivation simply: they said they wanted to “improve their figure.”
But in North Korea, such aspirations are fraught with peril. The prosecutor at the trial, as quoted by Daily NK, declared, “Women living in a socialist system have been corrupted by bourgeois customs and have committed rotten capitalist acts.” The judge didn’t hold back either, labeling the surgeries as “anti-socialist” and promising “strict punishment” for all involved. The judge went so far as to say the women “had no intention of being loyal to the organisation and group, but was obsessed with vanity and ended up becoming a poisonous weed that was eating away at the socialist system,” according to Daily Mail.
The evidence presented was as much about optics as about legality. Medical tools, imported silicone, and bundles of cash—seized by the district’s Security Bureau—were displayed for all to see. The trial, by all accounts, caused a stir in Sariwon. Details of the trio’s backgrounds and the investigation’s methods were laid bare, with the spectacle intended to serve as both deterrent and warning.
The crackdown didn’t stop at the courtroom. North Korea’s Ministry of Social Security, alarmed by a reported rise in cosmetic procedures such as breast augmentation and double-eyelid surgery, issued a directive painting these acts as symptoms of “bourgeois ideology.” The ministry warned that “women in the socialist system are being tainted by bourgeois ideology and are engaging in all kinds of decadent acts.”
To enforce this edict, the regime unleashed a multi-pronged campaign. Undercover agents—sometimes posing as patients—began infiltrating communities, while neighborhood watch leaders were tasked with identifying women whose appearances had “noticeably changed.” These women could then be sent to hospitals for physical examinations to determine whether surgery had been performed. As reported by Metro, “Strike teams have already been deployed in central districts of Pyongyang and are operating in plain clothes. Women or doctors caught will face criminal punishment, including terms in labour training camps, on charges of anti-socialist behaviour.”
For women in their twenties living in Sariwon, this new reality is terrifying. Many now live in fear, worried they might be singled out for checks if their appearance arouses suspicion. The sense of unease is palpable, with the crackdown’s reach extending far beyond the handful of individuals brought to trial. The atmosphere, according to sources cited by Telegrafi, is one of “uproar” and anxiety, as the community grapples with the implications of the government’s campaign.
This isn’t the first time North Korea has waged war on what it perceives as Western or capitalist influences. The regime has long exercised “total control” over its citizens’ daily lives, severely restricting freedom of expression and personal autonomy. Amnesty International, a global human rights watchdog, has repeatedly criticized North Korea for its repressive tactics, noting that the government’s grip extends into even the most intimate aspects of life, from fashion choices to personal grooming.
Breast augmentations, in particular, have been singled out as “non-socialist behavior.” Official medical institutions are strictly prohibited from performing such procedures, pushing any demand underground. The risks are significant—not only do illegal operations often use contraband silicone, raising the likelihood of infection and other complications, but those caught face criminal punishment. Sentences can include stints in labor training camps, a fate that looms large as a deterrent.
The government’s rationale is rooted in ideology. Cosmetic surgery, especially procedures like breast augmentation, is framed as a symptom of “decadent” Western values—a threat to the collective spirit and discipline of the socialist system. As the prosecutor in the Sariwon trial put it, these women “have become tainted by bourgeois customs and are engaging in rotten capitalist behavior.” The language is stark, and the message is clear: personal choices about one’s body are not just private matters, but political acts with consequences for the entire society.
Yet, beneath the rhetoric, the crackdown reveals a society grappling with change. Despite the risks, the popularity of cosmetic procedures suggests a growing undercurrent of individualism and a desire for self-expression—however modest—among North Korea’s younger generation. For many women, the decision to undergo surgery is about more than vanity; it’s a quiet assertion of agency in a system that allows precious little.
Still, the price of such acts is steep. The Sariwon trial, with its public shaming and promises of harsh punishment, was designed to send a message: deviation from the prescribed norms will not be tolerated. The government’s campaign, with its undercover agents and neighborhood patrols, is a chilling reminder of how far the regime is willing to go to maintain control.
International observers can only watch and wait as the crackdown unfolds. For now, North Korean women—especially those in their twenties—are left to navigate a landscape where even the smallest personal choice can have outsized consequences. In a country where the state’s reach is nearly absolute, the battle over breast implants is about much more than surgery; it’s a window into the ongoing struggle between individual desires and authoritarian power.
As the regime doubles down on its campaign against “capitalist” influences, the stakes for North Korea’s women have never been higher. The outcome of this struggle will shape not only their bodies but the very fabric of North Korean society in the years to come.
