By Gokurō Senban,† Keio-gijuku, 1874
THERE have been many recent attacks on Mr. Fukuzawa’s Gakumon no susume (Encouragement of Learning). These attacks seem mostly to have been aimed at Sections Six and Seven. Intelligent people have the right to express their views, of course, and I am not venturing to refute these critics to cajole public opinion. But I find that there are many who seem to make rash criticisms of only a section or a phrase of the book, or without even closely examining Sections Six and Seven that are the main targets of these attacks. This motivates me to express my own view in public here.
Section Six of Gakumon no susume discusses the importance of the national constitution, and condemns the evil of private vendetta. It says that when people are subject to a government, they have completely entrusted the power over life and death to it, and so no longer have any right to that power. In application of this principle, Fukuzawa says that even in an extreme case when a burglar breaks into one’s home, the owner has no right recklessly to lay his hands on the man. After illustrating the evil of private vendetta in this way, he ends Section Six by discussing the cases of the loyal retainers of Akō and other assassinations of political enemies. This is my interpretation of Section Six.
As indicated at the beginning, Section Seven supplements the argument of Section Six. For the convenience of understanding, it divides the citizens’ roles into that of masters and guests. In the latter role, once they have made the contract, thus promising to live as guests under the Meiji government, the citizens have no right to take inconveniences of the laws as a pretext to break the laws. This principle proclaims the rightful authority of the government. From the former role of the people as masters, in which capacity they support the government’s expenses and entrust the public welfare to the government, the people must shoulder both the losses and gains of the government. If they disagree with the government’s measures, they must quietly report and discuss their views without hesitation. The purpose of the principle is to make every citizen of Japan consider his country as his own home and to defend the independence of Japan.
In the middle paragraphs of Section Seven, Mr. Fukuzawa discusses the question of changing the government. He raises the difficult issue of what should be done if the government neglects its duty and becomes despotic. He gives three options of action. First, to compromise principles by yielding to the despotic government, thus leaving a bad precedent for later generations and weakening the country: he says that persons of true and patriotic hearts would not act in this insincere way. Secondly, to rise up against this despotic government with force of arms: here he argues that this course of action toward rebellion is incomparably worse and should never be done. Thirdly, to live under tyrannical government while adhering to one’s principles even at the cost of martyrdom: the purpose of this positive idea is strictly to suppress violence in favor of persuasive reason. As this section was an abridged translation of page 366 of Wayland’s Morals, let me translate the passage which comes right after the section Mr. Fukuzawa translated, by way of supplementing the reader’s information.
We read on page 367:
In England during the reign of Charles I, people could no longer endure the tyranny of the government, and public criticism was aroused. Finally, after a civil war, the king was dethroned and a republican government was temporarily set up. But the people continued to be repressed under it too. This government came to an end several years later, and Charles II ascended the throne, but the government became increasingly despotic. It was as if the English had lost their freedom by seeking it, and bought tyranny with tyranny. This shows how wrong rebellion is. During Charles II’s reign, the popular spirit changed. Instead of relying on violence, people advocated reason and continued to sacrifice their lives for the sake of principle. Through their martyrdoms they laid the foundation for the freedom and independence of modern England.
At the end of the section, Mr. Fukuzawa deals with the question of martyrdom. He compares it with rebellion, and discourses on the relative merits of each. He says that loyalty should be valued as a human act, but there is no reason to make it an end in itself and to think that loyalty is the mere giving of one’s life for one’s lord. As for his example of the faithful servant, Gonsuke, who hung himself, if we pass over the circumstances of his death to consider only his death itself, we cannot help calling it too a kind of dying out of the motive of loyalty. It was no different in that regard from the death of a loyal retainer. But, then, should Gonsuke’s death not become a model for men? By no means, for his death was no more than a stubborn dog’s death, since it gave no benefit to civilization.
As for the question of loyal samurai and loyal retainers of past history, we can see that there were many indeed who died for their country or their lord. When the Hōjō clan perished and Takatoki killed himself, six thousand eight hundred men committed suicide with him. Even though Takatoki was a rebel, we must say that those who followed him in suicide were loyal retainers of the Hōjō house. In addition to this case, innumerable retainers died for their lords on both sides when the Takeda and Uesugi clans clashed in battle. But from our present vantage point, for what reason did they give their lives? Mr. Fukuzawa points out that if the Takeda and Uesugi clashed in arms in modern Japan, we could not help saying that the samurai who died in battle were throwing away their lives in vain.
Moreover, we can make this same point by citing the examples of foreign countries. In the past, France and Spain fought religious wars. Countless numbers killed others or died in battle at the command of their rulers. The loyalty of these persons was no cause for shame, but seen through the eyes of modern European civilization, those who perished in these religious wars died like dogs.
Why do I say that the loyal retainers and faithful samurai died also like dogs as they followed their lord to the grave? In the uncivilized world of that time, men’s purposes went no further than their own individual spheres of action. They did not extend their gaze to the peace and prosperity of the nation as a whole. This was not their own fault, but the forces of the times. In the past, their deaths were expressions of loyalty; but today, they would be meaningless and in vain. Therefore later times may admire their intentions, but should not ape their deeds.
Now in No. 368 of the Chōya Times, a certain gentleman of Aikodō criticizes Mr. Fukuzawa for arguing that the forty-seven samurai of Akō had no purpose to advance civilization and declares that his censure of them is difficult to understand. But if we consider the changes in history and civilization several hundred years since, there should be no objection to acknowledging that the people of olden times did not have the ideals of modern civilization. But this was no shame upon those men of old. We must highly prize the attainment of civilization in modern times, but this is not a reason to credit modern men at the expense of the ancients. The men of past history lived in their own times and acted according to their own values; modern people must now act according to modern values. In such a way each age fulfils its function of being human.
Kusunoki Masashige’s name does not appear within the text of Gakumon no susume. But as society has interpreted Mr. Fukuzawa’s intention in this manner, let me discuss that here. It is not necessary to speak at great length about the loyalty and courage of Masashige. The question is, did Mr. Fukuzawa mean to equate Masashige with the Gonsuke in his text? Did he say that if Gonsuke had fought as well as Kusunoki Masashige in the Genkō and Shōhei Revolts, there would be no difference in their merits? I can attest that he never expressed such an idea either in writing or in his speech. The focus of Mr. Fukuzawa’s essay was on the revolutions of the times, on history prior to and after the advent of modern civilization. The only point on which he compared Gonsuke with that loyal knight was that of their deaths. The loyal samurai Masashige was like a sword blade made by Masamune, Gonsuke like a rusty kitchen knife. Considered in terms of the dignity of their activities and merits, their deaths cannot be compared, even though, in the above metaphor, both the Masamune blade and kitchen knife may be made of iron. It would affront human reason even to entertain their comparison; indeed, it is ridiculous even to hear it said. If a person has any genuine human sentiment at all, he will distinguish the two cases. When Kusunoki established his merit in the Genkō and Shōhei Revolts, he flashed the aforementioned sword of quality. When he plotted for the sake of the Imperial House, his sword alone flashed in the land. Therefore the greatness of Masashige lay not in his death, but in his actions. And what did his actions purport? Their goal was to restore the political authority of the nation for the Imperial House. As deeds for those times, they are above all criticism. He fulfilled his duty to the utmost.
Yet if we consider the matter from the changes of history from the medieval world to the Meiji Period, the present goals for which the Japanese people must strive are greatly different. During the Genkō and Shōhei revolts, the usurpers of the political prestige of the Imperial House were the Hōjō and the Ashikaga. The seat of political power had shifted internally within Japan, but in terms of blood line, the emperors of the Northern Court were also Imperial princes. While there may have been rebellious ministers and subjects from ancient times, even Masashige did not anticipate that anyone would suddenly try to usurp the Imperial dignity. And Masashige was discontent with the situation that had ensued. To the very end, he gave his strength and his life fighting for the true line of succession, and to return its political authority to the Imperial House. In certain respects, these events were very regrettable. But it was not that the Imperial dignity had finally been usurped by foreign hands. Since it had not, Masashige may have had the hope of regaining it for the Emperor; although he was ultimately frustrated, he must have had this one ray of hope. Therefore, compared with the foreign threat which the present Japanese people have to cope with in the Meiji Period, Masashige’s situation was far more sustainable. His burden was far lighter than the present responsibility of the Japanese people. This is a result of the changes of history from the pre-modern to the modern world. Let us not forget this essential point. The present crisis is in fact the first and the most serious one for Japan since the founding of the Japanese empire.
The prime source of grievance for Japan in the Meiji Period has been relations with the West. In commercial transactions, the Westerners are wealthy and skillful, we Japanese are poor and unskillful. In the jurisdiction of the courts, many Japanese citizens suffer injustices, while some of the foreigners escape the law. We have to learn foreign methods of study, and borrow their foreign capital. Since our policy is gradually to open the country and follow the direction of modern civilization, they assert the principle of free trade to gain sudden access to the interior of Japan. In every matter they take the offense and we the defense, with never a proper balance between us. As these conditions are accelerating, unless we Japanese amend our old customs, the prestige of Japan will inevitably decline, even if no war breaks out with the West. Indeed, in the event of some unforeseen crisis, it could decline even more. Considering this threat, we have just cause for genuine alarm.
In these difficult times, it is not enough to think that each Japanese citizen fulfils his obligation simply by saying that he is ready to offer his life in case of emergency. This is certainly not my opinion. The political authority of the Genkō and Shōhei times fell into the hands of Ashikaga Takauji, but there can be no Takauji in the Meiji Period. Our present formidable enemies are in reality the countries of the West. This was the meaning of Mr. Fukuzawa’s allusion to “the bold and dauntless foreigners” in Section Three of Gakumon no susume. If Japan loses her sovereignty today, her political authority will not merely pass from the Imperial House but from the shores of Japan. If it passes from the Imperial House, there is still some hope of recovering it; but if it passes to foreign hands it will never be recovered. How can we follow the same path of India? We must focus our attention upon the relative values of things. Can we imitate the deeds of Masashige in these present times of crisis? I am saying that we cannot. We must admire his spirit, but not take his deeds as our model. As we see in the above example, Masashige’s deeds were like a Masamune sword. In the age of swords, this Masamune sword was considered the finest of weapons. But with the changes of history, even this superlative weapon became useless, and it was necessary to devise other instruments. This is precisely the way of change.
There was no danger from foreign countries in the age of Masashige. Because there was none, there was no need to respond to it. It was not Masashige’s fault that he acted as he did, for such were his times. But present-day scholars excessively admire his aspirations and loyalty, and think that his deeds should still be emulated. It seems that some persons are in fact trying to apply his ancient deeds unchanged to the needs of the present. To use a metaphor, this is no different from employing ancient-style spears and swords in an age of rifles. This is the reason why I doubt the efficacy of their ideas. As I view Masashige, if he were brought back to life today, I think he would take upon himself the responsibility of the independence of Japan. He would work for the rights of every Japanese citizen, for the general security and prosperity, for Japan’s national strength, and thereby preserve the continuity of the Imperial House. He would work to make the national polity (kokutai) one and indivisible and to make it increasingly beam forth its light. He would strive to bring Japan up to a level of equality with all the nations of the world. For these are the great principles of civilization today. In order to accomplish these great tasks, how can we rely only on one death, like Masashige’s of old? The present times call for adaptability in ten thousand new forms.
If Russian or English warships showed up today to invade the harbor of Hyōgo, Masashige would certainly not be satisfied with merely sacrificing his own life as he did at Minatogawa. I cannot venture to guess what his method of responding to the present crisis would be, but we can know that he would have changed his strategy. In the last analysis, death is a deed of the flesh; mediocre men can die in vain by killing themselves like dogs. Adaptability is a work of intelligence; it is the power to discern the relative values of things and the momentum of the times. Masashige was hardly a mediocre man. If alive today, he would certainly concentrate his view on the whole situation. Since today’s crisis is different from the Genkō and Shōhei times, he would take another course of action and give his life in a different way. The ancient dispute was an internal one, but the Meiji crisis comes from abroad, and is much graver. This is the reason why Masashige’s action in the Meiji Period would be different from the days of old.
Therefore, one who admires the personality of Masashige and would make him a model of the present age should imagine what course of action his hero would really take in our Meiji times and strive to follow that action as his rule. Only in this manner will we be able to say that he has understood the true spirit of Masashige. A man who thinks that the Masashige of medieval times would act in the same manner today, so many hundred years later, has not yet fully understood him. On the contrary, we may say that he really despises him, and this is something which we must regret for Masashige’s sake. Even though Masashige’s loyalty would perdure unchanged throughout all time, his actions would not be immutably the same. This is the precise reason why Masashige was the person that he was.
When I speak of adaptability, some high-spirited young people may rashly take this as a cowardly excuse. But let us think about it with composure. That Hōjō Tokimune beheaded the envoy from the Mongol Court during the Kōan Period may well be called a rightful deed. But what if Tokimune lived in the Meiji Period and beheaded an envoy from Russia or England; of if some Meiji citizen should imitate Tokimune’s deed at the present time? It would be sheer madness. Why is it that the identical act of the killing of an envoy is regarded as justice in the old times and as madness today? For the times are different. We are at a different stage of civilization. Generally speaking, everything will be adaptable if its historical time and place are not disregarded. Such is the way of adaptability.
I take the above as the main import of Mr. Fukuzawa’s argument. Considering the above points, we cannot say that he did not understand Masashige. We may rather say that he understood Masashige better than most informed people. The reason that Gakumon no susume has stimulated such a mass of bewildering debates of late is that both sides are clashing over unessential points without either side expressing its main view. In all probability the newspaper contributors have the most patriotic intentions, but they are not as keen as Mr. Fukuzawa in perceiving the problems connected with foreign relations. They are not so thoroughgoing in the pursuit of national independence, not so clear-sighted in discerning the changes of the times and in weighing the relative priorities of things. Thus they end up digressing into arguments over unessential points. I believe that Mr. Fukuzawa has no need to worry himself over these loud public criticisms. Rather, he must be concerned about the superficiality of the controversy in the context of modern problems.
Other attacks against Mr. Fukuzawa have come from those who want to refute his remarks about republican government, Christianity, etc. Here they are completely off the track! To say that Mr. Fukuzawa advocated republican government or was attracted to Christianity is wrong. From what document or from what person has this information been gotten? Mr. Fukuzawa advocates democracy because he dislikes the despotism prevalent in the world today. He states his views publicly, not privately.
Japan has also had from ancient times a deep-rooted tradition of despotic governments, because of which her spirit has declined and there is fear that the Japanese people cannot bear up under foreign relations. Accordingly Mr. Fukuzawa’s original intention was to maintain Japanese independence by correcting this abuse as much as possible. His idea is to counter one-sided governmental authority by stressing the rights of the people, and thus to develop the power of the whole nation against the foreign threat. One must first distinguish matters under discussion, such as republican government, Christianity, people’s rights, despotism, etc. Mr. Fukuzawa hates despotic tyranny. And on this he is not alone, for every human being hates it. There is no reason to say “only Fukuzawa, a crazy man, hates it.” Again, religion and politics are entirely different things. As regards religion, too, he has expressed his views for many years. I need not repeat them here. (If people listened sympathetically to what he has to say on religion, they would surely be amazed at the profundity of his views.) Must despotism and tyranny necessarily accompany monarchy, and freedom and human rights only be realized under a democratic form of government? What books and whose utterances are the sources of such inferences? I should like to discuss this point a little further in closing.
Despotism is like a fever, and politics is the human body. Persons differ in sex and age, but they are all capable of contracting a fever. In politics, too, there are different kinds, such as a monarchy and a republic, but they may all become despotic. A despotic monarchy derives from one person’s ideas, while misgovernment in a democracy stems from a number of people. But both are equally forms of despotism. They are like two human beings who are capable of coming down with the fever, regardless of sex or age. Whatever premiss one starts from, there is no reason to conclude that the fever is limited to only one sex, or that despotism is limited to monarchies. Guizot [1787-1874] wrote in his General History of Civilization in Europe:
A monarchy can be instituted in a country like India, which adheres to a caste system, or in a country in which people live together without class distinctions. It may be practiced in a world of despotism and oppression, or in a free and civilized society. A king is a strange kind of head which can be attached to political institutions of different kinds. Or a king is like a strange kind of fruit that can grow on different kinds of political trees.
The above ideas are not novel. They should be well known by intellectuals. But the fact that people still harbor old-fashioned doubts about such things as Christianity and the republican form of government must ultimately be due to a deficiency of impaired vision. If one eye is covered over, the truth appears distorted. People think that equal rights is equivalent to democracy; and that democracy is the same as Christianity, or that Christianity is Western Learning. They are thus misled by their own suppositions and imaginations. Since Mr. Fukuzawa is a scholar of Western learning, they suppose that his views on people’s rights must necessarily be Christian or democratic views. And so they have become greatly indignant. If I may use a vulgar example, the owner of a wine shop is not necessarily a drinker, and the master of a mochi shop is not necessarily a non-drinker. A person should not immediately judge the inside of a house as he runs by its gate, nor be angry at an owner from just looking at his shop. Though their anger may spring, not from selfishness, but from their sincere patriotism, we can say that they have hearts which are concerned about their country but do not know the proper reasons why.
Postscript
A reporter says that this criticism is precise and piquant.
