What was meant to be a moment of triumph for North Korea’s naval ambitions turned into a public embarrassment, as a 5,000-ton warship rolled over and partially submerged during its launch ceremony in the presence of Supreme Leader Kim Jong Un. The incident occurred at the Chongjin Shipyard, a major naval construction site on North Korea’s eastern coast. The warship, the second in the Choi Hyun-class of frigates, prematurely slipped from its quay during a side-launch, capsizing before it could reach open water.
New satellite imagery obtained shows the crippled vessel still tethered to the shipyard dock, with blue tarps hastily draped over the hull. Two steel cables are visible, likely installed for temporary mooring and stabilization to prevent further movement. “These cables are essential to maintain structural safety as the ship’s internal balance is adjusted,” said Jennifer Jun, Associate Fellow for Imagery Analysis at the Center for Strategic and International Studies (CSIS).
According to North Korea’s state-run Korean Central News Agency (KCNA), officials have begun pumping seawater from the flooded chambers. KCNA estimated it would take two to three days to stabilize the vessel and over ten days to restore its damaged side. However, analysts outside North Korea question the optimism of this timeline.
“The vessel is heavily tilted and partially submerged. Even if they manage to stabilize it in ten days, full restoration will likely take significantly longer,” Jun noted. “The slipway itself may also have sustained damage, adding to the challenge.”
Despite early fears, North Korean officials claim the damage is not as severe as initially thought. According to an official KCNA statement, internal and underwater inspections found no holes in the hull, though scratches were reported on the starboard side and seawater entered through a stern rescue channel.
Still, the North Korean regime has not shied away from assigning blame. Kim Jong Un reportedly described the incident as a “serious accident and criminal act,” attributing it to “absolute carelessness and irresponsibility.” KCNA reported that the ruling Party Central Military Commission has launched an investigation into the mishap, summoning Chongjin Shipyard manager Hong Kil Ho for questioning.
“This accident is an unpardonable act, and the responsible parties must face consequences,” the statement read. Interestingly, KCNA emphasized that the concern is not simply about economic loss or physical damage to the ship but rather the need to correct a culture of “irresponsibility and unscientific empiricism.”
The launch failure is significant for several reasons. It was the first time North Korea attempted a side-launch of a large naval vessel, diverging from the more traditional stern-first launch. Experts believe this change may have contributed to the accident.
“The side-launch requires precise engineering calculations and robust infrastructure,” Jun explained. “North Korea’s move to adopt this technique without adequate preparation could be a case of ambition outpacing capability.”
The timing of the accident is also politically sensitive. The failed launch took place in front of Kim Jong Un and other high-ranking officials, underscoring its symbolic importance. North Korea’s unusual decision to publicly disclose the accident, complete with quotes from Kim, indicates a rare attempt at transparency—or more likely, a move to control the narrative before satellite images and international media could expose the failure.
Beyond the political fallout, the incident has ramifications for North Korea’s military readiness. The Choi Hyun-class frigates represent a modernization effort within the North Korean navy. These vessels are designed to project power and potentially challenge regional naval forces, particularly in the Sea of Japan. Losing one to a preventable accident not only delays strategic planning but also highlights the technical limitations of the regime’s shipbuilding capabilities.
Observers noted that the second Choi Hyun-class vessel featured several updates from its predecessor, including a different mast configuration and what appeared to be improved radar and sensor suites. “The ship’s design suggests an ambition to improve targeting and surveillance capabilities,” said a naval analyst who requested anonymity.
The ship’s partial submersion makes it difficult to assess the full extent of these upgrades. However, the visible damage and presence of makeshift covers suggest that North Korean officials are trying to mitigate further exposure and perhaps prevent espionage through commercial satellite reconnaissance.
Despite these efforts, high-resolution imagery from Maxar Technologies and Planet Labs continues to reveal details about the recovery operation. Analysts note that the vessel’s position has remained unchanged since the incident, and small support vessels have been seen around it.
“From what we can tell, the operation is cautious and incremental,” Jun said. “They’re likely evaluating structural integrity before any significant move.”
Meanwhile, the internal political repercussions could be severe. With Kim Jong Un publicly denouncing the incident, the pressure on mid- and lower-level officials is immense. The upcoming plenary meeting of the Workers’ Party Central Committee in June is expected to include a public reckoning for those deemed responsible.
Analysts believe this approach serves two purposes: demonstrating accountability and reinforcing Kim’s absolute authority. “By framing the mishap as a criminal act, Kim signals that failure will not be tolerated, regardless of intent or circumstances,” said Dr. Rachel Min, a scholar of North Korean politics.
At the same time, Kim has demanded that the ship be fully restored before the party’s June meeting. Experts view this timeline as unrealistic. “They may present a cosmetically repaired ship by then, but actual seaworthiness is another matter entirely,” Min added.
The incident is also drawing attention to the risks of militarized propaganda. North Korea often stages elaborate demonstrations of strength, from missile tests to military parades. These events are choreographed to project competence and power. The frigate’s failure disrupts that narrative and exposes the fragile infrastructure behind the facade.
“This was supposed to be a message to the world about North Korea’s growing naval capability,” said Jun. “Instead, it turned into a reminder of the regime’s technical and managerial limitations.”
Nonetheless, North Korea is likely to push ahead with its naval program. The setback may delay immediate plans, but it is unlikely to alter the regime’s long-term goals. Shipbuilding activity has been robust in recent years, with satellite imagery showing ongoing work at multiple sites, including Sinpo and Nampo.
In the short term, international analysts will be watching Chongjin closely. The progress of the recovery operation, the appearance of the warship, and the regime’s rhetoric will all offer clues about how the North Korean leadership intends to spin this incident. Whether as a lesson in resilience or a scapegoating campaign, the story of the Choi Hyun-class frigate is far from over.
What is clear, however, is that even in a tightly controlled state like North Korea, some truths are too large to conceal. In the age of satellite surveillance and instant global communication, managing perceptions has become as important as managing reality. And in this case, the regime’s carefully curated image of strength has taken on water—literally.
