As this work was originally presented as a book for the public and as a text for lower schools, I made every effort from the beginning through the third section to use common words, it being my intention to keep the style of writing simple. But in the fourth section I changed my style a bit, using perhaps slightly more difficult vocabulary. And since this fifth section is a written record of a lecture which I delivered on 1 January 1874, at the New Year meeting of Keio colleagues, I fear likewise that its form may also be more difficult.
Both the fourth and fifth sections are essays for scholarly audiences. Present-day scholars are mostly fainthearted, their spirits not firm. But since they can read letters quite well, and they have no trouble even with difficult texts, I have not hesitated to write in a more demanding style in these two sections, and have naturally elevated their meaning as well. Therefore if I have failed in my original resolve of making this work a book for the public, I apologize to my young readers for it. But, for the convenience of lower-school students, I promise from the sixth section on to return again to my original plain style. I pray, therefore, that the relative difficulty of the whole work will not be judged by my readers merely in terms of these two sections.
We are gathered here today at the Keio-gijuku this first of January 1874. It is a year of Japanese independence, and this school is an independent school for us Keio colleagues. For Keio-gijuku to reach a new year in this way should be a cause of great joy to us. But should it be lost this cause for joy can turn into sorrow. Therefore while today we celebrate, let us not forget that we may grieve on some future day. Despite changes in government due to war or peace from ancient times down, Japan has never yet lost her independence. For up to today the people of the nation have been satisfied with the custom of national seclusion, her internal political vicissitudes having been unrelated to foreign affairs. Her independence, which was never lost nationally through periods of peaceful rule or civil disorder, was a domestic experience that had not clashed in arms with foreigners. We Japanese have been like children raised within a house who have not yet had contact with the outside world. Our weakness, of course, is self-evident.
But now that trade with foreign nations has suddenly begun, there is no domestic affair that remains unrelated to them. Now all matters must be dealt with in comparison with foreign nations. But Japan’s civilization, itself barely attained by our ancestors, is no match with that of the West. We must therefore lament our own inadequacies to follow the ways of the West; at the same time, we must increasingly awaken to the actual dangers to our independence as a nation.
The civilization of a country should not be evaluated in terms of its external forms. Schools, industry, army and navy, are merely external forms of civilization. It is not difficult to create these forms, which can all be purchased with money. But there is additionally a spiritual component, which cannot be seen or heard, bought or sold, lent or borrowed. Yet its influence on the nation is very great. Without it, the schools, industries, and military capabilities lose their meaning. It is indeed the all-important value, i.e. the spirit of civilization. What is, then, this spiritual component, which in turn is the spirit of independence of a people? Recently, the government has repeatedly founded schools, promoted industries, greatly reformed the army and navy systems, and has almost attained modern civilization in outward form. But no one yet considers the problem of strengthening Japanese independence. No one comes forth to lead the rest. Not only that, while they have had rare chances to gain knowledge of other nations, they first of all become afraid of foreign nations before they have accurate information on them. Even if they have something to offer, their fear of others prevents them from bringing it forward. In short, if people lack this spirit of independence, the outward forms of modern civilization are ultimately useless.
The reason for this, in the first place, is that since time immemorial the reins of power in the whole country have been monopolized by the government. From military defense, book learning, to industry and commerce, every insignificant affair of the people has been under governmental jurisdiction. The people have always been the dupes of government. In effect, the country has been the private property of the government, and the people have been the hangers-on of the country. The people, like guests without permanent lodgings, just barely managed a parasitical existence within the country. They looked upon it as a lodging house in which they could neither give full vent to their keenest wishes nor express their full energies. This gradually nurtured the present spiritual climate of Japan. But modern Japan has an even worse problem than this. In all matters of the world, not to go forward is to retreat and, not to retreat is to advance. In principle no one can mark time neither advancing or retreating. In present-day Japan, the external forms of modern civilization seem to have progressed, but the energy of the people, which is the spirit of civilization, is daily retreating.
Let me discuss this point further. In the past regimes of the Ashikaga [1338–1573] and Tokugawa [1600–1868], force alone was used to control the people. The people were obedient to the government because they did not have sufficient power of their own. It is not that they admired the government; they only showed faces of submission out of fear. The present government not only has power, but is resourceful and shrewd as well. There is no area in which it lags behind the times. Not ten years since the Meiji Restoration, the reforms in the educational and military systems, in railroad and telegraph, in construction of concrete buildings and iron bridges, are all attributable to the quickness of governmental decisions. The quality of its accomplishments is in fact astonishing. But they are all exclusively government accomplishments. What regard can the people actually have for them? The people say: Now the government has not only the power but the knowledge as well; both are beyond our power. The government administers the nation from the clouds above, while we citizens can only depend on it from below. It is the function of the government above to be concerned about the country, while we lowly citizens have nothing to do with it.
In sum, the governments of the past used force, but the present regime uses both force and intelligence. In contrast to the former, the latter is rich in techniques of controlling the people. Past governments deprived the people of power; the present regime robs them of their minds. Past governments controlled men externally, the present regime controls their internal life as well. The former was a devil to the people, the latter is now a god. Fear has given place to blind worship. If such abuses of the past are not reformed at this juncture, and the government undertakes something new, the form of civilization may seem to be gradually given shape, but in fact the people will be totally enervated, so that the spirit of civilization will gradually wither away. Today the government has a regular army. The people ought to be in high spirits, regarding it as an army for the protection of the country, and celebrating its splendor. But, on the contrary, they regard it only as another formidable strong arm of the government. The government owns the schools and railroads. The people ought to take pride in these things as symbols of the civilization of the country. But, on the contrary, they attribute it to the benevolence of the government and rely more and more on its largesse. The people are already cowering before the Meiji government. How can they have time to enter into competition with the civilization of the West? Therefore I say that without independent energy, Japan’s external forms of civilization will not only be less than useless, but will merely be tools to intimidate men’s hearts.
Consequently, the civilization of a nation can be initiated neither from the government above nor from the people below. It must begin from a middle position which expresses the directions of the people as a whole. Success can be expected only after the nation stand on terms of equality with the government. In Western history, not one form of business or industry was the creation of the government. Their foundations were always laid by the projects of scholars in the “middle class.” The steam engine was invented by Watt [1736–1819], the railroad was designed by Stephenson [1781–1848]. Adam Smith [1723–90] expounded the principles of economics and completely changed the methods of business. These great scholars belonged to the so-called middle class. They were neither government administrators nor the laboring masses. Theirs was exactly that middle position which leads the world by power of intellect. Once some device or invention takes form in someone’s mind, a private company is founded to concretize it in practical form. It can then make a lasting contribution to the great happiness of future generations.
At this juncture the duty of the government is to let the creativity of the people take its own course without interference, to understand and protect the direction of public opinion. The people should take the initiative in the affairs of civilization, while the government protects their efforts. The people should own civilization as if it were their private property. They should compete and dispute with one another over its forms. They should take pride in their achievements. The whole nation should respond to each commendable achievement made within the country. Their only fear should be that other nations might beat them to it. In such a situation the matters of civilized progress will all become the instruments of strengthening the spirit of the nation. Everything will be conducive to fostering national independence.
But this state of affairs is the exact contrary of what actually prevails in Japan. At present, the only Japanese in the middle class who can advocate national independence and modern civilization are the scholars. But most of these same scholars are unsatisfied with their present positions. They are going into government service instead. They either are not insightful about the trend of the times, or they are more concerned about their own private interests than those of the nation. Or again, they are intoxicated with the spirit of the times which looks to the government to accomplish everything. They engage in trifling businesses involving physical and mental labors. Their conduct is mostly ridiculous. But they are personally self-satisfied; and people do not question them. In the worst extreme, some are saying with pride that there are no talented men working outside the government. People should not be blamed individually, for this is the pernicious spirit of the times. Yet it is a great misfortune for Japanese civilization.
We should bitterly lament the indifference and apathy people are showing to the fact that scholars, who ought to be the leaders of civilization, are spiritually declining day by day. And that the scholars are spiritually declining is even more bitterly deplorable! We colleagues of Keio-gijuku have alone narrowly escaped this calamity. We have cultivated the spirit of independence for these past several years in our own independent institution of learning. And our only desire has been to maintain the independence of the whole nation. But the currents of the times have inundated the land; or it is like a typhoon—it is not easy to stand up against it. Without great personal efforts, a person will unconsciously be swept along with it. But power to resist will not come from book learning alone. Reading is a mere means to learning. Learning issues forth in practice. Power will come only as we actually come to grips with things in concrete life.
Those members of our school who have realized this in practice should apply their knowledge, no matter what the personal cost, to the actual advance of Japanese civilization. Fields to work in are too numerous to mention. Business, law, industry, agriculture, the writing and translation of books, publication of newspapers—almost every affair of civilization—must be made our own. We must take the lead of the people, and act in concert with the government, so that the proper balance of powers of the public and the private will increase the potential of the whole nation. In this way, we shall be able to firm up the faltering condition of Japan’s independence, so that we can hold our ground unflinchingly in the event of war with a foreign nation. If years from hence we were to look back with pity on our present lack of independence rather than taking pride in it, would this not be a most happy turn of events? Let scholars therefore set their goals with confidence.
