“On the morning of the 26th, the temperature in Harbin dropped below zero and it snowed lightly. Ahn Jung-geun changed into new clothes and headed to Harbin Station. He took a seat in a tearoom on the second floor of the third-class lounge and ordered tea. Russian military police officers stood guard outside, while foot patrol officers made their rounds with resounding footsteps.”

This is Kim Hoon’s description of Ahn arriving at the scene of his self-appointed mission on Oct. 26, 1909, in his best-selling novel “Harbin.” It is around 7 a.m. and the train carrying Ito Hirobumi, the four-time prime minister of Japan and first Japanese resident-general in Korea, will pull into the station at 9 a.m. for a meeting with the Russian finance minister, Vladimir Kokovtsov.

In his pockets, Ahn, the son of a wealthy, learned nobleman, has a Browning M1900 pistol and one Russian ruble, which he deems would be an appropriate amount if he completes his task.

The scene lingers in my mind with poignant questions. What made the young man wander foreign lands, wage impossible guerilla warfare amid constant danger and hunger, and finally decide to deliver a mortal blow to the heart of Japan’s imperialism? What does his daring activism mean to today’s Koreans? What’s the message of his unfinished essay, “On Peace in the East,” to the world embroiled in yet another vortex?

I find that the author’s remarks in the epilogue answer my questions. Kim notes, “Ahn Jung-geun, by himself, faced the violence and barbarism that dominated his era on a global scale. He pursued peace for the East, but a single pistol with seven bullets was the entire physical force he secured. He was a young man at 31.

“I dreamed of writing a novel about Ahn’s radiant youth, but through my own exacting younger days, I was overwhelmed by the energy emitted by his short life. Now, rather than his great cause, I intended to discuss his poverty, courage and live body. His body targeted his enemy head-on. His great cause, already presented fully through his pistol and his own speech, continues to speak for itself. So, I didn’t need to stress it.”

The novel’s unwaning popularity since its release in July should probably indicate that readers appreciate the author’s implicit intentions. The current domestic and international volatility may also make Ahn’s patriotic action seem more relevant. The recent joint naval exercises by South Korea, the United States and Japan in the East Sea can be a case in point.

The trilateral anti-submarine drills may be necessary to counter North Korea’s increasing missile provocations and nuclear threats. But military cooperation with Japan in any form cannot but raise concerns among many Koreans. Particularly, joint drills in the East Sea can look worrisome.

The waters southeast of Ulleungdo and Dokdo islands was the scene of the Battle of Tsushima in May 1905, during the Russo-Japanese War. The Japanese navy led by Admiral Togo Heihachiro nearly annihilated Russia’s Baltic fleet in the two-day engagement and Japan emerged as a new world power.

In its declaration of war against Russia, Japan promised to “maintain the integrity of Korea, a matter of constant concern to Our Empire, and peace in the Far East.” But six months after its victory, Japan forced Korea to sign the Protectorate Treaty, depriving Korea of its diplomatic rights. Earlier, Japan’s Shimane Prefecture “incorporated” Dokdo, through a cabinet decision. Japan wanted to use the rocky islets along with the adjacent Ulleungdo as its military watchtowers and communication bases.

Ahn believed that Ito was the main culprit behind the reneged promise. He decided that he would have to make this known to the world by assassinating him. He shot Ito three times and fired another three shots at members of his entourage in case he had targeted the wrong man, then yelled out for Korean independence.

By then, Ahn had joined an armed Korean resistance group that attacked Japanese forces, pausing his efforts to educate young Koreans. In his mid-20s, the devout Catholic was the headmaster of two private schools and had attempted to establish a Catholic university with support from French priests.

In the interrogations and trial sessions leading to his execution on March 26, 1910, Ahn listed 15 reasons for his action. “I, as a lieutenant general of the Korean righteous army, killed the criminal because he disturbed peace in the East and estranged the relationship between Korea and Japan,” he said. “I hoped that if Korea and Japan are friendlier and ruled peacefully, they would be a model throughout all the continents.”

Ahn’s essay stopped at reviewing major events that had caused the “division of the world into East and West with different races struggling with each other.” He observed that the conflict was essentially racial and regional -- white Westerners versus yellow Easterners -- with its roots in the Europeans “forgetting morality and embracing military might.”

From Ahn’s conversations with the judge in charge of his case, it is assumed that the missing chapters of his unfinished essay would have included his vision for a union of Korea, China and Japan. He would have had proposed the union to operate a peace conference, a joint bank and a common currency, and language lessons for youths to help achieve mutual understanding and common prosperity.

From today’s viewpoints, Ahn’s vision appears unlikely, but some of his proposals are thought-provoking. His prediction of disaster stemming from Japan’s endeavor for hegemony by violence was prescient.

“While the Chinese arrogantly look down on other countries and are disunited among themselves,” Ahn wrote, “the Japanese, despite internal conflict, unite to form “one patriotic party” and work together, whenever they faced an external problem.” Surely, this is a lesson that our ruefully divisive politicians need to take to their hearts to steer the country away from the looming crises and maintain peace on the peninsula and beyond.

Lee Kyong-hee

Lee Kyong-hee is a former editor-in-chief of The Korea Herald. -- Ed.