North Koreans mourn a holiday emptied by grave removal campaign
North Korea’s grave removal campaign has drained one of the country’s last traditional holidays of meaning, as North Koreans across North Pyongan province marked Chongmyong this past Sunday with little of the ritual that once defined the day. Chongmyong, observed on April 5, is a traditi

North Korea’s grave removal campaign has drained one of the country’s last traditional holidays of meaning, as North Koreans across North Pyongan province marked Chongmyong this past Sunday with little of the ritual that once defined the day.
Chongmyong, observed on April 5, is a traditional East Asian holiday tied to ancestral rites. In North Korea, the day has historically centered on visiting family grave sites, clearing weeds, and sharing food and drink with relatives who gather from across a region.
A Daily NK source in North Pyongan province reported Tuesday that in Phihyon county and Chonma county, the hillsides were largely empty this year. In past years, families would pack food and liquor and make the climb together; that custom has now largely disappeared.
North Korean authorities have for several years ordered the removal of graves from hillsides and forests, citing land management and reforestation as justifications. Households that failed to comply within set deadlines were warned that the state would handle the graves directly. Most families, facing that pressure, chose to exhume their ancestors’ remains and have them cremated.
Grieving in private
A handful of graves remain on scattered hillsides, but the source said those who still visit do so quickly, making a brief offering before descending, wary of drawing official attention. The broader culture of grave visiting has been substantially curtailed.
The loss extends beyond the ritual itself. Chongmyong has long served as one of the few occasions when family members living in different parts of the country could reunite, exchange news, and maintain bonds across distance.
“Every year around this time, we’d see relatives and friends who had moved away, catch up on each other’s lives,” the source said. “Now that even that kind of holiday is gone, the connections we had left feel like they’re drying up too. With the graves removed, there’s no reason to gather anymore.”
Some North Koreans have expressed quiet relief at no longer having to haul food up a mountain for ancestral rites. But others describe a harder feeling: not just the loss of a custom, but of a social anchor. Where Chuseok, the autumn harvest holiday, can still be observed at home with a table set for ancestors, Chongmyong is defined by the act of going somewhere. With nowhere to go, the source said, many simply let the day pass.
“The traditional customs themselves are disappearing,” the source said, “and among the people, there’s a reaction that Chongmyong has just become another day.”
Observers say the government’s grave removal campaign, framed in the language of environmental management and state land use, has had an unintended consequence: the erosion of community cohesion and emotional ties that persisted even under one of the world’s most restrictive political systems.
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