In a strange and concerning episode in South Korea, two Chinese nationals were caught photographing and filming near a U.S.-South Korean military facility not once but twice in two days—yet faced no criminal charges. Despite the sensitivity of the area and rising fears over global espionage activities involving Chinese citizens, South Korean authorities released the individuals both times, citing a lack of evidence for espionage.
This incident has ignited a firestorm of debate in South Korea over what critics say are dangerously outdated espionage laws that fail to address modern intelligence-gathering tactics—and do not adequately respond to potential threats from foreign powers like China.
On April 21, 2025, the U.S. military reported two Chinese citizens to South Korean authorities after they were caught using an advanced camera to film military aircraft near Osan Air Base—also known as K-55—in Pyeongtaek, a strategic military installation shared by South Korea and the United States.
The pair were detained and questioned by South Korean police under suspicion of violating the Military Facility Protection Act, which restricts unauthorized photography of sensitive defense installations. However, authorities released them shortly after, claiming the photographs didn’t contain any information deemed “anti-state.”
“There were no signs of espionage in the photos,” a police official told JoongAng Daily. “They only captured fighter jets flying near the outer perimeter of the base, which doesn’t constitute a chargeable offense under the military base protection law.”
That statement might have ended the matter—until the same individuals returned just two days later.
On April 23, the duo were once again spotted lingering near the base with sophisticated camera equipment. This time, they were intercepted by the Defense Counterintelligence Command and the National Intelligence Service (NIS), South Korea’s top security agencies. After eight hours of interrogation, authorities once again let them walk free, citing a continued lack of evidence pointing to espionage or anti-state activity.
Due to national security concerns, the specific findings of the investigation were not made public. However, local media reported that the pair had been taking photos from public roads near the base—technically legal under South Korean law, which does not prohibit photography of flying aircraft from unrestricted areas.
The repeated lack of consequences for individuals engaging in behavior that many consider suspicious has sparked a wider conversation in South Korea.
At the heart of the issue lies a legal loophole in South Korea’s espionage law. Under current statutes, espionage is punishable by death or a minimum of seven years in prison—but only if committed on behalf of North Korea.
This glaring limitation means that espionage for any other foreign power, including China, is not treated with the same gravity under the law.
Kim Yeoul-soo, a senior researcher at the Korea Institute for Military Affairs, voiced concern over this gap. “Our laws are not keeping up, and that gap is creating opportunities for even more illicit activities,” he told The Korea Times. “The threat landscape has changed, but our legislation still acts like North Korea is the only country capable of espionage.”
With China’s increasingly sophisticated and global spy network, South Korea’s singular focus on North Korea appears increasingly outdated.
The Osan Air Base incident isn’t isolated. In recent years, South Korea has faced a string of incidents involving Chinese nationals near military installations.
March 2025: Two Chinese teenagers were caught near Suwon Air Base taking high-resolution photos of aircraft using DSLR cameras. Investigators later found they had also visited and photographed multiple other sensitive locations, including the U.S. base in Pyeongtaek and an airbase in Cheongju. One of the teens claimed his father worked for China’s Public Security Bureau.
July 2024: Three Chinese students used a drone to film the USS Theodore Roosevelt during a U.S.-South Korea military drill in Busan. The drone hovered over the nuclear-powered aircraft carrier for several minutes before being detected. One of the students was later found to be affiliated with the Chinese Communist Party.
June 2024: A civilian employee at South Korea’s Defense Intelligence Command was discovered to have leaked sensitive information to Chinese agents over a seven-year period, including military strategies and troop movements.
These incidents suggest a pattern of suspicious behavior from Chinese nationals—many of whom claim to be students, tourists, or hobbyists. Yet, their actions often go beyond what casual curiosity might explain.
The South Korean experiences echo a broader trend. Worldwide, China is increasingly being linked to covert intelligence-gathering operations that exploit legal gray zones, lax surveillance, and the cover of legitimate activities.
United States: In June 2024, the U.S. Department of Justice charged Fengyun Shi, a Chinese graduate student, for using a drone to film nuclear submarine construction sites at Newport News Shipyard and BAE Systems in Virginia. Photos recovered from the drone showed sensitive infrastructure and classified vessels.
Japan: In May 2024, the Japanese Ministry of Defense confirmed that a drone—believed to be operated by a Chinese national—flew over the JS Izumo, a Japanese helicopter destroyer, and recorded video footage while the ship was anchored at Yokosuka Naval Base.
Germany: German intelligence services have repeatedly warned about China’s extensive spy operations across Europe. In 2024, they accused China of deploying a vast network of students and researchers to gather industrial and military secrets.
In all these cases, individuals involved often lacked direct affiliation with official Chinese agencies—but investigations later revealed connections through academic awards, family ties, or digital footprints that pointed toward Chinese government influence.
What makes these cases hard to prosecute is the evolving nature of espionage itself.
In the Cold War era, spies were typically government operatives, often caught exchanging physical documents or meeting handlers in shadowy rendezvous. Today, espionage is diffuse. It involves drones, smartphones, encrypted apps, and thousands of willing or coerced contributors: students, tourists, businesspeople, and expatriates.
South Korea’s intelligence community is increasingly aware of this shift—but remains constrained by laws built for an earlier time.
“Modern espionage is about quantity and subtlety,” said a former South Korean intelligence officer who asked not to be named. “You don’t need one James Bond. You need 100 people taking photos, gathering open-source information, building a profile—and then sending it home.”
South Korea is in a tough spot. While its military and security services are closely tied with the U.S., China is also the country’s largest trading partner. Confronting China too forcefully risks economic backlash.
This geopolitical balancing act complicates how authorities respond to incidents involving Chinese nationals. Even when suspicions are high, prosecutors often tread carefully to avoid escalating diplomatic tensions.
But critics argue that national security cannot be sacrificed for short-term diplomatic comfort.
“There is a fine line between being cautious and being naïve,” said Park Ji-hoon, a law professor at Seoul National University. “If you create a safe space for espionage under the pretext of diplomacy, eventually you’ll pay for it.”
The Osan Air Base incident has reignited calls from lawmakers and defense experts for a comprehensive overhaul of South Korea’s espionage laws. Several legislators have proposed amending the National Security Act to remove its North Korea-only focus and to strengthen penalties for foreign intelligence gathering, regardless of the country involved.
“There is bipartisan support for change,” said Representative Han Ji-won, a member of South Korea’s National Assembly. “We’ve seen too many cases that fall through the cracks. Our national defense depends on fixing this.”
Han is part of a task force currently drafting new legislation that would expand the definition of espionage to include acts conducted for any foreign government or organization—and allow prosecution based on the intent of gathering intelligence, rather than requiring definitive proof of harm.
As of now, the two Chinese nationals involved in the Osan Air Base case have left the spotlight. It is unclear whether South Korean intelligence agencies are continuing to monitor them or whether any diplomatic actions have been taken.
But one thing is clear: South Korea’s vulnerability to foreign intelligence gathering—particularly by Chinese nationals—has become a national concern.
While it remains difficult to determine intent in every case, especially when photography is conducted from public areas, the frequency and nature of these incidents suggest more than coincidence.
If South Korea fails to adapt its laws and enforcement to modern espionage tactics, experts warn, the country risks becoming a weak link in the region’s security chain—one that China and other powers may continue to exploit.
