In a poignant scene earlier this week, an emotionally charged crowd gathered at Imjingang Station, the final subway stop before the North Korean border, to witness Ahn Hak-sop's near-touching moment with his homeland. The 95-year-old former prisoner of war, who has spent most of his life in the South, expressed a profound wish to return to the North to die and be buried in what he insists is "a truly independent land." However, government arrangements thwarted his wish as officials informed him there was insufficient time for preparations.
Ahn, weakened by pulmonary oedema, was unable to complete the 30-minute walk from the station to the Unification Bridge—one of the few entrance points to North Korea. Instead, he traveled by car for the majority of the journey, exiting roughly 200 meters from the bridge. Supported by two friends, Ahn walked the last stretch, draped in a North Korean flag—a rare sight in the South. Addressing the gathered media and supporters, he declared, "I just want my body to rest in a truly independent land."
Trapped in a turbulent chapter of history, Ahn was only 23 when he was captured by South Korean forces in April 1953, just before the Korean War armistice. He had joined the North Korean People's Army believing in its mission, seeking what he thought was the reunification of Korea. Imprisoned for over 42 years, he struggled for acceptance upon his release, labeled a "redhead" due to his communist sympathies and facing years of surveillance. Despite the hardships, he fought to maintain his honour and beliefs.
Born during Japan's colonial rule, Ahn's anti-imperialist sentiments run deep; he believed that the South's alliance with the US was prolonging colonialism. Having turned down a chance to return to the North in 2000, he and many prisoners felt optimism for improved ties, believing a return then would hand a victory to American force.
Ahn's personal history paints a broader picture of loyalty and strife that define the Korean conflict. He perceives the geopolitical tug-of-war between the US and Korea as betrayal—viewing the Korean War's origins through a lens of anti-imperialism. He recalls the brutalities he faced during his imprisonment and expresses steadfast commitment to protest against what he considers continued American colonialism.
Though North Korea’s economic landscape has morphed since he left, Ahn remains unwavering in his defense of Kim Jong-un’s government, rejecting notions of humanitarian crises as biased Western narratives. His life is a testament to the enduring complexities borne from the Korean War, bridging personal experiences with lasting ideological battles. Ultimately, Ahn Hak-sop's journey is less about crossing geopolitical lines and more about seeking peace within his heart, one that desires rest in the familiar soil of North Korea.
