"Life is not as simple as crossing a field." This verse adorned the finale of "Doctor Zhivago" by the great Russian writer Boris Pasternak. Like our lives, a nation's diplomacy cannot always traverse smooth plains. Sometimes it must climb high mountains; sometimes it must pass through rough forests. Yet just as Pasternak extolled the "spring of resurrection" that would surely come despite fierce blizzards, Korea-Russia relations today are enduring this stern period through the deep-rooted vitality of culture.
When I arrived as Ambassador to Russia and faced Moscow's bitter cold in winter 2017, what warmed my heart was the emotional connection between our two peoples, transmitted through the frigid air. My memories of June the following year, when the Korea-Russia summit and Russia World Cup coincided, are even more vivid. That night in Moscow's Red Square, on Arbat Street, and along Nevsky Prospekt in St. Petersburg, Korean supporters and Russian citizens linked arms and sang Katyusha and Arirang together. I witnessed a friendship among ordinary people greater than any treaty between nations.
Just as Koreans have long found solace in Dostoevsky's profound philosophy, Anton Chekhov's intense exploration of humanity, and Tchaikovsky's poignant melodies, young Russians are passionate about K-pop's dynamism and the delicate emotions portrayed in Korean films and dramas. Dostoevsky proclaimed that "beauty will save the world." I believe that "beauty" is the pure cultural and artistic connection that links heart to heart.
Against this backdrop, Korea-Russia relations stand precariously on an unprecedented and arduous test. Channels for political dialogue have narrowed, and the visibility for economic cooperation is shrouded in thick fog. Some offer pessimistic views, worrying about long-term stagnation or severance of bilateral relations.
However, I state with certainty that the foundation of Korea-Russia relations, built over 36 years since diplomatic normalization in 1990, is not fragile enough to be shipwrecked by temporary geopolitical storms. This is because the deep interest and affinity between our peoples for each other's culture and arts stand firm like solid bedrock.
Recently in Russia, a meaningful book titled "Continuous Dialogue Between Korean and Russian Cultures" was published, led by former Ambassador to Korea Evgeny Afanasiev and his son, among others. Four Korean ambassadors to Russia, including myself, National Security Office Director Wi Sung-lac, current Ambassador Lee Sok-bae serving his second term, and former Ambassador Park Ro-byug, contributed their experiences and recommendations. This holds significant meaning as it shows persistent attempts continue to untie political knots through the power of culture.
For Korea-Russia relations to develop, people must ultimately continue to meet and communicate. When politics agonizes before closed doors, culture seeps through the cracks and becomes the warm heat that melts hearts. The Korea-Russia Dialogue, where I serve as coordinating chairman, will not cease its role as a bridge between the two countries.
We know from history that only the tree that endures the harshest blizzard can bloom with splendid spring flowers. I hope that the efforts of cultural solidarity continuing in civil society and academia will accumulate layer upon layer in the frozen ground, becoming seeds of hope that prepare for a new spring in Korea-Russia relations that will someday arrive.