Dr. Pshtiwan Faraj

For decades, China and North Korea have been bound by a relationship that is simultaneously intimate, transactional, suspicious, and strategically indispensable. Beijing has long regarded Pyongyang as a buffer against the U.S.-South Korean alliance, while North Korea has relied heavily on China for trade, diplomatic protection, and economic lifelines. Yet the relationship has rarely been one of uncomplicated friendship. North Korea has repeatedly resisted Chinese pressure, while Beijing has often viewed Kim Jong-un’s nuclear ambitions as a destabilizing liability rather than an asset. What is now changing is not simply the warmth of bilateral diplomacy, but the strategic environment surrounding it: Russia has moved dramatically closer to Pyongyang, the United States is again confronting the possibility of a volatile Korean Peninsula, Japan is expanding its military capabilities, and Beijing is preparing for a regional order in which Taiwan may become the decisive flashpoint. Against this backdrop, China appears to be recalculating the value of an old relationship—and North Korea may once again be becoming strategically useful to Beijing in ways that extend far beyond the Korean Peninsula.

The clearest signal came in June 2026, when Chinese President Xi Jinping traveled to Pyongyang for the first time in seven years to meet Kim Jong-un. The significance of the trip was difficult to miss. Xi had hosted more than 20 foreign leaders during the first half of the year, yet his visit to North Korea was his only foreign trip during that period. The timing was equally important: the summit marked the 65th anniversary of the China–DPRK Treaty of Friendship, Cooperation and Mutual Assistance, Beijing’s mutual defense treaty with Pyongyang. More importantly, Xi arrived in Pyongyang shortly after meeting U.S. President Donald Trump and Russian President Vladimir Putin in Beijing. The sequence offered Xi an unusual opportunity to assess the shifting relationships among the three major powers while simultaneously signaling that China would not allow Russia’s growing influence over North Korea to become permanent.

The language surrounding the summit suggested something more consequential than routine diplomatic maintenance. Xi described the China–North Korea relationship as standing at a “new historical starting point” and pledged closer strategic communication, greater leadership exchanges, and stronger political trust. Beijing proposed cooperation across diplomacy, law enforcement, military affairs, economics, trade, agriculture, construction, technology, health care, education, culture, tourism, media, youth affairs, and local government relations. Pyongyang responded with equally expansive language, describing the relationship as a strategic priority and portraying the two countries as capable of developing a model of powerful strategic relations. The breadth of the agenda matters because it suggests that Beijing is not merely attempting to restore economic links disrupted by the COVID-19 pandemic; it is attempting to rebuild the institutional architecture of influence that has weakened as North Korea has moved closer to Russia.

The most important element of the reset, however, may have been what Beijing did not say. For years, Chinese diplomatic statements on North Korea routinely emphasized denuclearization of the Korean Peninsula. Beijing had previously maintained that it supported denuclearization and sought to play a constructive role in achieving it. During Xi’s previous visit to North Korea in 2019, the Chinese readout explicitly referenced Beijing’s desire to contribute to denuclearization. In 2026, however, the nuclear issue disappeared from the central messaging surrounding Xi’s summit with Kim. That silence should not automatically be interpreted as formal Chinese recognition of North Korea as a legitimate nuclear-weapon state, but it may indicate something strategically significant: Beijing increasingly appears willing to subordinate its longstanding nonproliferation preferences to the immediate objective of preserving influence over Pyongyang.

That is a profound adjustment. China has spent years trying to balance two competing objectives: preventing instability on its border while discouraging North Korea from developing capabilities that could trigger an arms race involving South Korea, Japan, and the United States. Russia’s transformation of its relationship with Pyongyang has changed that equation. Since the beginning of the Ukraine war, Moscow and Pyongyang have developed an unusually intense strategic partnership, including military cooperation and high-level exchanges on a scale that has surpassed recent China–North Korea engagement. For Beijing, the problem is not necessarily that Russia and North Korea are cooperating. The problem is that Russia is developing channels of influence inside a country that China historically regarded as part of its own strategic sphere.

The numbers illustrate the shift. Between 2024 and 2025, Russia–North Korea high-level visits dramatically exceeded China–North Korea exchanges, reversing a pattern that would have been difficult to imagine only a decade earlier. North Korea has found in Russia something China has historically been reluctant to provide: an increasingly permissive strategic partner willing to cooperate on sensitive military matters. Moscow’s willingness to deepen security ties with Pyongyang has given Kim Jong-un greater room to maneuver between the major powers. That flexibility is precisely what Beijing now has an incentive to reduce. Xi’s 2026 diplomacy therefore looks less like an attempt to pull North Korea back into an old alliance and more like an effort to ensure that Pyongyang does not become strategically dependent on Moscow.

The economic dimension of the reset is equally important because economic integration provides Beijing with influence without requiring an immediate military commitment. China and North Korea have already begun restoring transportation and commercial links interrupted during the pandemic. Passenger trains between Beijing and Pyongyang resumed in March, while direct flights were also restored. Chinese tourism companies began promoting North Korea travel packages, while Beijing emphasized the reopening of border crossings and the expansion of aviation, rail, and people-to-people exchanges. Bilateral trade reached approximately $2.7 billion in 2025, its highest level since the border closure in 2020, and trade during the first half of 2026 was reportedly running ahead of the same period in the previous year.

Yet the trade relationship remains far below its pre-sanctions potential. That creates both a limitation and an opportunity. China does not need to recreate the economic relationship of the past overnight; it needs only to make itself increasingly indispensable to North Korea’s economic modernization. The July 2026 visit of North Korean Premier Pak Thae Song to China offered a revealing glimpse into what Pyongyang wants from the relationship. His itinerary included the Beijing Rail Transit Command Center, Tianjin Port, a low-carbon industrial facility, a motor plant, and other sites associated with infrastructure and industrial development. These were not simply ceremonial excursions. They appear to have been selected to expose North Korean officials to precisely the kinds of infrastructure, manufacturing, logistics, and technological systems that Kim’s government wants to develop at home.

This creates a potential bargain between Beijing and Pyongyang. North Korea needs capital, infrastructure, technology, trade, transportation links, and access to markets. China possesses all of them. China, meanwhile, needs a North Korea that remains sufficiently dependent on Beijing to prevent Russia from monopolizing Pyongyang’s strategic attention. Economic cooperation can therefore become the foundation upon which a much broader geopolitical relationship is reconstructed. The paradox is that Beijing may be willing to tolerate more of North Korea’s nuclear and military behavior precisely because it believes greater economic and diplomatic engagement will give it more leverage over the regime.

The most surprising development, however, is the return of military affairs to the bilateral agenda. Xi explicitly included military exchanges among the areas for enhanced cooperation, a notable departure from the relative caution that characterized China–North Korea military relations for decades. Chinese Defense Minister Dong Jun met North Korean Defense Minister No Kwang-chol in June, marking the first such meeting between the two defense chiefs since 1992. The significance of that encounter is difficult to overstate. For much of the post-Cold War period, China was deeply cautious about rebuilding military cooperation with Pyongyang, particularly after Beijing normalized relations with South Korea in 1992.

The history explains the caution. China intervened decisively on North Korea’s behalf during the Korean War, but the military relationship later became more complicated. Beijing declined some of Pyongyang’s requests for advanced military capabilities, while North Korea increasingly developed its missile capabilities through Soviet-derived technologies. The normalization of Chinese–South Korean relations further damaged Pyongyang’s confidence in Beijing. What followed was largely ceremonial military interaction rather than genuine strategic integration. That history makes Xi’s explicit reference to military cooperation in 2026 much more significant than the phrase might initially suggest.

Still, it would be premature to assume that China and North Korea are moving toward a fully integrated military alliance. There is currently no evidence of sustained bilateral military exercises, joint operational planning, or major Chinese transfers of advanced weapons. The more plausible trajectory is incremental. Beijing could begin with military exchanges, professional delegations, intelligence cooperation, technical contacts, and participation in multilateral exercises. Over time, cooperation could potentially extend to areas such as air defense, drones, electronics, machine tools, and other dual-use technologies that could strengthen North Korea’s military-industrial base.

The strategic consequences could become much larger if China, Russia, and North Korea begin coordinating military activities. North Korea has already observed Russian military exercises in which China participated, and the appearance of Xi, Putin, and Kim together at China’s 2025 military parade offered an extraordinary visual symbol of emerging strategic alignment. Moscow has reportedly supported the idea of North Korea participating in China–Russia military exercises. Beijing may initially be cautious about such trilateral military cooperation because it does not want to become unnecessarily entangled in Pyongyang’s provocations. But the competition for influence could eventually make nonparticipation more costly than participation.

The Korean Peninsula is not the only geographic theater where this matters. One of the most consequential issues to watch is the Tumen River, the waterway running along the borders of China, Russia, and North Korea before reaching the Sea of Japan. China has sought access to the lower portion of the river for decades, but the geography has repeatedly frustrated those ambitions because the final stretch is controlled by Russia and North Korea. If Pyongyang were ever to grant Beijing meaningful access, the implications would extend beyond commerce. Chinese northeastern provinces could gain a valuable maritime outlet, while the Chinese military could potentially acquire a more direct route toward the Sea of Japan. Such an arrangement would fundamentally alter the strategic geography of Northeast Asia.

This is where the broader logic of the China–North Korea reset becomes visible. Beijing is not necessarily trying to turn North Korea into a subordinate ally. It is trying to maximize the strategic utility of the relationship. Four calculations appear particularly important. First, China wants to contain Russian influence over Pyongyang and preserve its own leverage. Second, Beijing wants to ensure that Washington understands that North Korea cannot be treated as a bilateral U.S. problem detached from Chinese interests. Third, China increasingly sees Japan’s military modernization and deepening alliance with the United States as a direct strategic challenge. Fourth, Beijing may see a stronger North Korean military capability as a potential asset in any future Taiwan contingency.

The Taiwan dimension may ultimately be the most consequential. A major conflict over Taiwan would place enormous pressure on U.S. military resources in the Indo-Pacific. If North Korea were to create a simultaneous crisis on the Korean Peninsula, Washington would face the possibility of having to divide its attention and capabilities between two major theaters. Even without North Korea directly attacking South Korea, a heightened military threat could force the United States to retain substantial forces on the peninsula rather than concentrate them around Taiwan. From Beijing’s perspective, therefore, North Korea does not necessarily need to become a Chinese military proxy. It may only need to become a sufficiently credible source of strategic uncertainty.

That possibility changes how the relationship should be interpreted. The conventional image of North Korea as a Chinese buffer may be outdated. In a future crisis, Pyongyang could become something more complicated: a strategic pressure point capable of distracting the United States, constraining Japan, complicating South Korean planning, and forcing Washington to divide its attention. The same North Korean capabilities that Beijing once regarded as destabilizing could therefore acquire new utility within a broader competition with the United States. This does not mean China wants war on the Korean Peninsula. It means Beijing may increasingly value the deterrent and diversionary potential of North Korea’s military power.

Japan is another part of the equation. Beijing has become increasingly concerned about Tokyo’s military modernization and the strengthening of U.S.–Japan security cooperation. Chinese and North Korean rhetoric has increasingly converged around accusations of Japanese “neo-militarism.” A stronger China–North Korea relationship could therefore serve as an additional source of pressure on Tokyo. North Korea’s missile and nuclear capabilities already complicate Japanese defense planning; closer Chinese coordination with Pyongyang could transform that challenge into a more integrated regional security problem.

Yet there is a danger in interpreting the reset as evidence of a stable China–North Korea bloc. The relationship remains burdened by mistrust. Kim Jong-un has demonstrated that he does not want North Korea dependent on any single external power, and Russia has given him precisely the strategic flexibility that Beijing would prefer to limit. Moscow, meanwhile, has its own interests in Pyongyang and may resist any Chinese attempt to reclaim exclusive influence. North Korea therefore has little incentive to choose between Beijing and Moscow when it can extract benefits from both.

This creates a strategic competition beneath the appearance of renewed socialist solidarity. China wants influence. Russia wants strategic access and military cooperation. North Korea wants autonomy, resources, technology, and diplomatic space. The United States wants to prevent the emergence of a coordinated anti-American security architecture across Northeast Asia. Japan wants to strengthen deterrence without triggering a regional arms race. South Korea must navigate a security environment in which its northern adversary is becoming more connected to two nuclear powers. Each actor is therefore responding not simply to North Korea, but to the relationships being built around it.

The real question is not whether China and North Korea are becoming friends again. They never stopped being historical partners. The question is what Beijing now needs North Korea to become. If the relationship remains focused on trade, infrastructure, diplomacy, and political exchanges, the reset may represent a conventional restoration of ties after years of drift. If military cooperation expands, trilateral China–Russia–North Korea activities emerge, Chinese access to the Tumen River advances, and Beijing increasingly stops pressing Pyongyang on denuclearization, then the reset will represent something much larger: the construction of a new strategic architecture in Northeast Asia.

For Washington and its allies, the warning sign is therefore not a single summit or diplomatic statement. It is the convergence of multiple smaller developments that, taken together, point toward a structural shift. China is restoring economic links. High-level political exchanges are accelerating. Military dialogue has returned after decades of caution. Beijing appears less vocal about denuclearization, while Russia’s influence over Pyongyang has become a central Chinese concern. If these trends continue, the Korean Peninsula could cease to be merely a problem involving North Korea and become one of the principal arenas in which China, Russia, and the United States compete to shape the future balance of power.

The old China–North Korea relationship was built around ideology, geography, and survival. The new relationship is being rebuilt around strategic utility. That distinction matters. Beijing does not need to love Pyongyang to need it; Pyongyang does not need to trust Beijing to benefit from it. As the Indo-Pacific becomes increasingly militarized and the possibility of simultaneous crises grows, North Korea's value to China may lie precisely in its ability to create uncertainty for America's allies and divide the attention of U.S. planners. The friendship may be old, but the calculations behind it are increasingly new—and the consequences could extend from the Tumen River to Taiwan, from Seoul to Tokyo, and ultimately across the entire Indo-Pacific balance of power.

About the Author

Dr. Pshtiwan Faraj is a political and geopolitical analyst, academic, and founder of Kurdish Policy Analysis, focusing on Kurdistan, Iraq, Iran, regional security, geopolitics, energy, and international affairs. He holds a PhD in English Literature from Brunel University London, where his research focused on war literature, and has extensive experience in academic, international relations, policy analysis, and regional affairs.

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