뉴스레터

Secret burial site of Yun Bong-gil
refurbished by Korean residents in Japan
and Japanese nationals

From April 26 to 29, I went on a three-day trip to Kanazawa [金澤] in Ishikawa [石川] prefecture, Japan. Located 255km northeast of Osaka, Kanazawa is a coastal city (facing the East Sea) with a population of 460,000 and functions as a hub of the Hokuriku [北陸] region. This was not my first stay as I had previously taken up residence in Kanazawa for 10 years from 1995 to 2005. I am sometimes reminded of the region's tasty cuisine and tranquility.

At the same time, the area is also associated with great sadness as has close connections to the painful history of the Korean peninsula. When I first arrived in Kanazawa, I was shocked to find out that the Korean patriot Yun Bong-gil had been executed there. Why in a foreign land, and why especially at such a tranquil location as Kanazawa, I lamented.

On April 29, 1932, Yun threw a bomb at the chief members of the Japanese military who were attending a victory celebration for Japan's successful campaign in Shanghai. The bomb critically wounded the commander of the 9th division, the same military division that eventually arrested and transferred Yun to Kanazawa via Osaka.

Yun is executed December 19 of the same year, becoming a patriotic martyr. His remains were secretly buried under the pathway leading to the Asakwaya prefecture's cemetery for fallen soldiers, located near the 9th division's execution grounds. Until they were retrieved in March 1946, Yun's remains had been trampled on by pedestrians for 14 years. Located directly on top his secret burial site was the Joint Memorial for the Fallen Soldiers of the Shanghai Incident, erected to remember and comfort the souls of the Japanese soldiers who had lost their lives during the invasion of Shanghai in January of 1932. It breaks my heart to think that so many people had trampled on Yun's remains for 14 years to get to the memorial.

Yun's secret burial site had been left unattended after the repatriation of his remain. Then in 1992, on the 60th anniversary of his martyrdom, Korean residents in Japan and Japanese nationals who wished to pay tribute to Yun came together to erect a tombstone in his name. The site was thus turned into a memorial for Yun. To the south of the secret burial site stands a memorial for Yun's patriotic martyrdom. On my recent visit, I recalled how I used to come with the site with other Korean students studying in Japan to polish the memorial and tombstone and tidy up the surrounding areas.

There is another noteworthy symbolic site in Kanazawa. It is the Monument to Commemorate the Sacred East Asian War [大東亞聖戰大碑], erected in 2000 by Japanese right-wing groups in the premises of a shrine for the war dead in Ishikawa prefecture. It is difficult to believe that such a memorial can be erected under the current regional climate, but it is a solemn reality nonetheless. Every August 15, Japanese right-wing groups congregate for a special event. Looking at Japan's recent rightist turns, it seems as though invisible monuments celebrating Japan's imperialist past are being erected all over nation.

After completing my two-day work itinerary, I headed to Komatsu Airport to return to Korea. Komatsu Airport was built toward the end of the Pacific War as a military airfield for the Imperial Navy. A significant number of Koreans were drafted as forced laborers for its construction. The airfield is currently used by both civilian airliners and the Japan Air Self-Defense Force.

I believe that discovering and remembering the sites harboring our painful history is one way to resolving today's historical conflicts. Every year, the Japanese group, Association of Yun Bong-gil supporters, organizes a trip to Yesan (Chungcheongnam-do, Korea) on the anniversary (April 29) of Yun's heroic act. Another Japanese organization by the name of Association for the Demolition of Memorials Celebrating the War invites scholars for special lectures. We must not forget that there are such Japanese nationals who are working to heal the wounds of history at the very sites of our historical tragedies.