[Feature: New Year's Dialogue] Learning at Keio University and 80 Years Post-War—Knowing One's Ignorance

Happy New Year. Today, I would like to welcome former Prime Minister Shigeru Ishiba and his wife, Yoshiko, for a conversation.

Mr. Shigeru Ishiba is the fourth Prime Minister to come from the Juku.

Tsuyoshi Inukai, Ryutaro Hashimoto, Junichiro Koizumi, and Shigeru Ishiba. One might think there would be more, but I am the fourth.

That is correct. However, you are the first to come from Keio Senior High School, a graduate of the affiliated schools. Furthermore, it is also the first time that a Prime Minister and First Lady are both from Keio University.

Wasn't the wife of former Prime Minister Yasuo Fukuda, Kiyoko-sama, also from Keio?

In terms of being a First Lady, yes, but this is the first time a married couple are both Keio alumni.

First, I would like to ask how what you learned at Keio University has been useful to you so far, and what kind of memories you have.

Actually, shortly after resigning as Prime Minister, I participated in a gathering for my mentor, Professor Satoshi Nitta, who celebrated his 88th birthday last year. I believe that the guidance I received from Professor Nitta in his seminar during my third and fourth years of university is still what serves me best today.

He was a demon of a teacher who made us write reports every week. This was an era before PCs or word processors, and he would give us assignments to just write on A4 report paper. It was Property Law, and every week I had to fill the pages with tiny handwriting in pencil.

The format for writing legal reports is generally fixed: first you write the points of contention, then introduce various academic theories, and finally write your own thoughts as a conclusion. The professor would correct these every week. He was incredibly detailed, providing feedback like "There is a leap in logic here," "This logical structure is very correct," or "There is no consistency between this part and that part." This was a tremendous learning experience.

I see. Also, Mr. Ishiba, you are the first Prime Minister from Keio Senior High School. When I watched one of your Diet replies as Prime Minister, you happened to be speaking about your own experience regarding making high school tuition free, and you said, "The quality of learning changed suddenly in high school." What did you mean by that?

I attended the Junior High School Associated with the Faculty of Education at Tottori University. In Tottori, it was a gathering of children who studied reasonably well, and even I could understand physics and chemistry if I studied hard. But as soon as I entered high school, I didn't understand anything at all.

Keio Senior High School had many teachers with a researcher's temperament back then, much like the old-system high schools.

There were many. The vibe was like, "If you don't get it, that's fine, just don't get in the way; go sleep in the back."

So, I felt very relaxed before math tests because I knew it would be a blank sheet anyway. They said we could leave after 20 minutes, so I'd hand it in quickly and study something else. Because of that, there was a huge unevenness depending on the subject. I might be first in the grade for Modern Japanese, Classics, or Chinese Classics, but math didn't seem like a language from Earth, so I got almost zero points (laughs).

In that sense, did you have the impression that the quality changed and you had stepped into the world of academia?

That's right. So it might be similar to the old-system high schools, but I feel like the three years at Keio Senior High School were a period for thinking about "what should I study at university?"

Since I was like this, of course, I didn't consider medical sciences or the Faculty of Science and Technology at all. I entered university in 1975, and at that time, the Faculty of Economics was the star of the humanities and social sciences. Based on my grades, it looked like I could get into the Faculty of Economics, but just looking at numbers gave me a headache, so I was quite worried about whether I should go there.

During the summer vacation of my third year of high school, when I returned to my hometown in Tottori, I went to a bookstore and happened to pick up a magazine for the bar exam. It had past bar exam questions and sample answers, and as I read them, I thought, "Such an interesting world exists in this society." I truly cannot forget the excitement I felt then. With that, my hesitation vanished, and I decided to go to the Department of Law.

And by going to the Department of Law, you were able to meet Yoshiko (laughs).

That was a product of pure coincidence (laughs). So, I am grateful that I was allowed to study whatever I liked as much as I liked during those three years of high school. I believe that high school and university should inherently be connected, and even now, I think four years of university is a bit too short.

I agree. In my current involvement with the Central Council for Education, I feel a very significant limitation in the separation between the college and elementary/secondary education. As you say, I believe that thinking about learning in high school and university together could, in some cases, provide time for self-discovery.

Now, Yoshiko-san, I understand you entered Keio from Joshigakuin through entrance exams. What are your impressions and memories of Keio, and what do you think are the good things about Keio now?

In my case, I was at a different school until high school, so if I wanted to go to university, I had to take entrance exams. There were times when I worried about whether to go to university at all.

I had a very hard time deciding my path. In my girls' school, I was relatively better at math and science and had good grades there. On the other hand, I wasn't as good at Modern Japanese compared to the other girls. At that time, many women went to the Faculty of Letters, but I struggled a lot with my choices while taking the exams. I wanted to go to the Faculty of Law, but at Keio, I was very torn between the Department of Political Science and the Department of Law.

I see. How was it after you entered Keio?

Education up to high school was something given to you, and the way of learning was fixed, but when I went to university, it was completely different. First, I hit the wall of the difficulty of law itself. There were times when I wondered if this faculty was really right for me.

But I heard that both of you used to study inside this Old University Library.

I think I used the Hiyoshi library more often, but I had a class here on Saturdays, so I often came to the Mita library before or after that.

So the two of you met in this Old University Library...

We didn't meet; I spotted her. I wouldn't say we met (laughs).

On Saturdays, I had classes in Hiyoshi in the morning, and in the afternoon, there was a legal seminar in Mita. The morning classes ended around 12:00, and then I came to Mita.

The legal seminar was an interesting and enjoyable class.

So you were both taking the same class.

That's right. Because of that, when I went to Mita, I once spotted my wife coming down the stairs of the Old University Library holding a book or something, and I remember it vividly...

And the one who was spotted doesn't remember (laughs).

There were so many male students, so to be honest, I didn't remember every single one of them (laughs).

I see. So you studied in the same place and came together through various connections. And as Shigeru Ishiba advanced as a politician, you have walked together all this way.

I am one of those deeply moved by the "Statement on the 80th Anniversary of the End of the War" (Prime Minister's Statement on the 80th Anniversary of the End of the War [October 10, 2025]). I have read the text on the website and watched the entire press conference. The message I received from this statement is "Fear being ignorant." It is not about looking back at the past and apologizing for it, but rather a stance of thoroughly knowing what happened there. I believe you were saying as Prime Minister that the more you know, the more you realize what you don't know.

Regarding this statement, I would like to ask Shigeru Ishiba, and also ask Yoshiko-san a similar question: how do you feel about the "80th Anniversary Statement"?

Yes. I will speak within the scope of what I know. My husband has consistently thought about Japan's postwar period. Over many years, I believe he has made it his life's work to understand why we ended up in that war.

He became Prime Minister in 2024, and last year happened to mark exactly the 80th anniversary of the end of the war. From what I have heard, his father, Jiro Ishiba, hardly ever spoke about the war. However, I feel that the life Jiro Ishiba lived and his way of thinking have had a great influence.

Regarding the statement, he must have had a lot of internal conflict about what to say and what expressions to use for the good of Japan's future. He wanted to include something like a raising of issues within it.

On the other hand, while there were voices saying "don't announce it," I think he felt a sense of mission to fulfill this. He also seems to have put a lot of thought into the timing of the announcement.

What do you think after hearing your wife's words?

I was born in 1957, but when I was born, my father was serving as the Administrative Vice-Minister of the Ministry of Construction. Since we were 49 years apart in age, to me, my father was the person who went from being Vice-Minister of Construction to Governor of Tottori Prefecture, a member of the House of Councillors, and Minister of Home Affairs; I didn't really feel a strong sense of a parent-child bond. Therefore, conversely, there was a part of me that viewed him somewhat objectively.

In September 1981, during my third year at the company, my father passed away. I heard it is a tradition of the former Ministry of Home Affairs that when a senior passes away, the juniors contribute commemorative writings and publish a memorial collection. In that collection, people who worked with him at the Ministry of Construction, the Tottori Prefectural Government, and the House of Councillors wrote various anecdotes about my father, and I learned a great deal about him through that memorial collection.

For example, when my father was seconded to Miyagi Prefecture as an internal affairs official and served as the head of the Social Education Division, the Tripartite Pact between Japan, Germany, and Italy had just been signed. The Hitler Youth were to visit Japan, and a welcome party was to be held in Miyagi Prefecture, for which he was the person in charge. His subordinates worked hard to draft plans, suggesting things like holding a party here or a ball there. My father, as the person in charge, was in a very bad mood and reportedly said "I don't care" to whatever his subordinates brought him.

Even so, he eventually had to make a final decision. My father, who was still in his early 30s, told his subordinates, "Listen well. There is absolutely nothing good about being friendly with people like this," as he reluctantly approved the plan. Such things were written in the memorial tributes.

Then the war ended, he returned from Sumatra, joined the Ministry of Construction, and eventually became Vice-Minister. At that time, it was apparently customary to write "X years since the end of the war" at the beginning of official documents. Something like, "On the occasion of the opening of such-and-such road, X years since the end of the war, as the Minister of Construction." Even for the Minister's congratulatory speeches, the head of the Documents Division would bring a draft, and that phrase would be at the beginning.

Then my father, as Vice-Minister, would get very angry and say, "Division Head, what do you mean by 'end of the war' (shunsen)? Japan lost the war, so why don't you write 'after the defeat' (haisen)? Don't write it as if the end of the war was some natural phenomenon that just happened." Internal affairs officials might have included many quite liberal people.

So you read about those things in the memorial collection.

Yes. So, I feel like I only came to understand my father's image after he died.

My father was, in any case, devoted to Mr. Kakuei Tanaka as a friend. He truly said, "I would die for Tanaka." During his lifetime, Mr. Kakuei often said, "As long as those who went to that war are at the center of Japan, Japan will be fine. It's when they are gone from the center of Japan that it will be scary. So study hard."

Hearing that story makes me sigh.

The youngest people who served in 1945 at age 15 would be 95 now. So, while I think some are still alive, they have retired from the center of society. At such a time, the fact that I, having such a father, am serving as Prime Minister is the reason why I felt I absolutely had to write the "Statement on the 80th Anniversary of the End of the War."

However, looking at this statement, I feel that the style forged in the Department of Law seminar remains. First, there is a very standard summary. Also, at the press conference, there were so-called standard criticisms, such as that you were only talking about things inside Japan and not stating a stance toward foreign countries. But within that, what was very impressive to me was how you firmly stated your own thoughts and the things we should be careful about.

Yoshiko-san, is there anything that particularly left an impression on you regarding the press conference for this statement or its content?

The sight of him struggling so much left an impression. Since there are always people who will object, as someone close to him, I felt "good" that he was able to say what he wanted to convey.

I see. It was a very direct message. While it was known through predictions by various institutions that there was basically a high possibility of losing that war, you first ask, "Why could the domestic political system not act as a halt?" While inheriting the historical recognition of previous statements like the "70th Anniversary Statement," I think you raised the question of "Why could it not be halted?" as a major question for the future, both for yourself and for us.

Scholars and historians such as Mr. Masayasu Hosaka, Mr. Kazutoshi Hando, Mr. Naoki Inose, and Mr. Toshikazu Inoue have written about "why it could not be halted." However, I had a sense that politicians must also examine this.

That is an important point.

The 50th anniversary statement was by Prime Minister (Tomiichi) Murayama, the 60th by Prime Minister (Junichiro) Koizumi, and the 70th by Prime Minister (Shinzo) Abe. Those who oppose this 80th anniversary statement were saying that "it was completed with the Abe Statement." However, it is precisely in Mr. Abe's statement that it is written that the Japanese political system "could not act as a halt" to the war. I thought we should delve into that and write about why it could not be halted.

Based on the recognition that apologies to the world, including Asia, were finished at 70 years, I said that we would "inherit" that. From there, after properly summarizing "why it could not be halted," I wanted to ask, "Then, is it acting as a halt in present-day Japan?"

Regarding the three areas of government, parliament, and media: why did the government not function? Why did the parliament not function? Why did the media not function? And would they truly function now? At the root, I wanted to write even a little bit of an answer to the question that has been asked since Greece and Rome: "What is civilian control?"

You say, "Civilian control is ultimately a system, and it is meaningless unless it is operated appropriately."

After a certain period has passed since a war, and those who experienced the Russo-Japanese War are gone, and people with a real sense and experience of war are gone, we enter the next phase of war. At that time, the question was what kind of judgment politicians would make. Yoshiko-san, do you have anything to say about that?

My father did not go to the war, but many of his friends did. I grew up hearing about experiences of evacuation from my mother. Even after moving to Tottori, many people who had not directly experienced the war were born during the difficult postwar times or had various experiences, so I heard many things from them.

Now, the generation of people who have no experience of that at all are in the prime of their working lives. They are at the center of companies, government offices, and the media, and as a politician's wife, I feel very anxious about that.

Mr. Ishiba says that when the location of responsibility is not clear, people tend to be led toward emotionally brave, illogical judgments. That is exactly the kind of anxiety you mean.

Yes, I do have that concern. As we mark the 80th anniversary of the end of the war, an "NHK Special" reported on how newspapers at the time published untrue information, inciting the public's feelings. There was also a broadcast of "Simulation: The Defeat in the Summer of 1941." At that time, a public that did not know the truth and politicians who could not accept the truth brought about a disastrous situation.

Furthermore, we now have the internet environment. Subjective thoughts are broadcast in an instant and become mainstream before people have time to think. I feel a great sense of dread regarding that. It feels even more high-speed and difficult than in Yukichi Fukuzawa's time, and in a sense, I am worried.

That's true. In Yukichi Fukuzawa's time as well, as written in "Transition of People's Way of Thinking," the advent of the postal service, steamships, and the telegraph allowed information to spread all at once. It is said that people feared that back then as well.

The November 2025 issue of "Mita-hyoron" features a translation of the speech given by European Commission President von der Leyen when she visited the Mita Enzetsukan (Public Speaking Hall). In it, President von der Leyen says, "The late 19th century when Yukichi Fukuzawa lived has clear parallels with the present era." Looking at the unstable global situation around us, she expressed her conviction that the answers lie within the teachings of Yukichi Fukuzawa—specifically, the pursuit of "independence and freedom." She noted that while the pursuit of independence and freedom is sometimes viewed as a phrase from a bygone era, she uses these words after careful deliberation.

Now, those words "independence and freedom" are not words for returning to the past, but words for facing the reality of today's world. She says that when we face the harsh reality of the world, things will not simply return to how they were once this current storm passes—for example, once a war in a certain region ends, once tariff negotiations are over, or once a direction changes in the next election. In other words, the geopolitical countercurrents are too strong. That is precisely why it is necessary to create a new form of "independence and freedom" for the 21st century. She mentioned that independence is not something inward-looking, but something that expands to build partnerships.

I thought this might resonate with what you, Mr. Ishiba, consider your life's work. I would like to ask you whether you feel the modern era resembles Fukuzawa's era at the end of the 19th century.

It likely does. Some people refer to the current era as a "new pre-war period." As you mentioned, people who did not know the Russo-Japanese War were the ones who planned the Pacific War. They were intellectual but lacked knowledge of reality or imagination—highly talented people who planned the Pacific War based solely on logic and spiritualism. Furthermore, the Constitution of the Empire of Japan was intentionally designed so that the location of responsibility was unclear.

You have mentioned that before.

Even those of us in the Department of Law have aspects of the Constitution of the Empire of Japan that we didn't study properly. Re-studying it closely this time, I felt it was a constitution that inherently made the location of responsibility ambiguous. There were likely various reasons for this, but the existence of the Genro (elder statesmen) filled that gap. Once Kinmochi Saionji passed away and the Genro were gone, the location of responsibility became even more unclear, and brave, loud voices began to carry the day.

Brave, emotional, and loud voices prevailed, saying things like "Humans occasionally need to take a leap of faith from the stage of Kiyomizu" or "To fight is national ruin, not to fight is also national ruin, but to perish without fighting is the true ruin of the nation that destroys even the Japanese soul." As a result, over three million people died. If we don't examine that, the same thing will happen again.

One more thing I've been thinking about for the last 20 years is that Japan should be an independent and sustainable country. Conversely, the current Japan is neither independent nor sustainable.

Not independent, and with low sustainability.

I believe so. That applies to food, energy, and demographic structure. To be blunt, it applies to self-defense capabilities as well. Of course, the Japan-U.S. alliance is important. The relationship of trust between Japan and China is also important. However, as a premise, I think it is frightening that we have never thoroughly considered what an independent Japan is. What exactly is "independence and self-respect" as Yukichi Fukuzawa spoke of? This is something that Keio University alumni and those studying at the Juku must constantly ask themselves.

Indeed. Dignity and independence—these two, along with freedom, form a single pillar.

The valedictorian at last March's graduation ceremony was a student from the Department of Law in the Faculty of Law, and they spoke about this. They said that Keio has a truly diverse range of classes, and they were allowed to enjoy taking the ones they liked. Triggered by a class in their first year, they set a goal to sing the national anthems of all countries and became able to sing about 150 of them. At that time, they researched which word appeared most frequently in the national anthems of various countries and asked us what we thought it was. Was it "King"? "God"? "Independence"?

The answer was "Freedom." This "freedom" is something so precious, something to be won and protected. Even in Japan, they spoke from a legal perspective about how there are still people whose freedom is being taken away, citing examples like the Hakamada Case or people who were deprived of the freedom to have children by the Eugenic Protection Law. Therefore, they said we should continue to value "freedom" in the spirit of Keio University. Hearing your talk just now, Mr. Ishiba, I feel that "teaching freedom correctly" is indeed very important.

The theme of this New Year's dialogue is "How we will entrust what to the next generation." Do you have any requests or anything at all for us at Keio University?

When entering Keio High School, those applying from the outside were told they must read "The Autobiography of Yukichi Fukuzawa." I read it while thinking I didn't quite understand it. I also read "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)." Since questions are asked in the interview, it would be a disaster if you didn't know them. At this age, I feel we must once again re-read things like "The Autobiography of Yukichi Fukuzawa" and "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)."

Not only Yukichi Fukuzawa, but Shinzo Koizumi wrote "Navy Paymaster Lieutenant Nobukichi Koizumi." Ryoji Uehara, who wrote "Today, a liberal dies" the night before departing as a member of the Special Attack Corps during the student mobilization, was also from Keio. I think it's incredible that he was able to write that.

Yes. That writing is truly of a high level.

I thought, "This is truly Keio University." Also, wasn't Kiyoshi Ikeda, the author of "Freedom and Discipline," also from Keio?

Yes, that's right.

As a member of the Keio Gijuku Shachu, I still want to learn more about how the predecessors of Keio thought about freedom and the nation.

Ms. Yoshiko, what are your "wishes for Keio University"?

I entered Keio from university. There, I studied the teachings of Yukichi Fukuzawa and, in my own way, have tried to keep in mind basic things like judging my own actions and taking responsibility for them. You were just talking about "independence and freedom." Studying at Keio involves people who come from elementary school, middle school, high school, university, and also those who enter from graduate school. I think those who come from graduate school, in particular, have a very clear purpose.

Within that, regarding future education, one thing I hope for is an education that encourages reading, as we have made our own children read many books. Another is to have the opportunity to hear from people with various ways of thinking. At my high school, various people came from the outside to give lectures, and the experience of hearing stories different from school studies—sometimes stories completely opposite to my own way of thinking—was very educational. I hope Keio will continue to provide such opportunities and offer the kind of cutting-edge education characteristic of Keio University.

And I would love for students to be given many opportunities to study abroad. I hear there are now programs where one can obtain degrees from two schools.

That's a double degree.

That's wonderful. Unlike the era when employment for women was limited like it was for us, the active participation of women will become increasingly necessary for Japan in the future. In such an environment, I look forward to an education that enables people to break new ground.

Let me give an example. When I accompanied my husband on official business to the Philippines, I visited a prosthetic limb company. The Philippines has many people with diabetes, and this company developed the world's first prosthetic limbs using a 3D printer and provides them at a low cost. The manager is Japanese and used to do manufacturing in Japan, but wanting to do work that helps people, he went to the Philippines with JICA. Wanting to be of use to the people there, he returned to Japan and studied at a Keio University graduate school. Afterward, he established the company and is now saving many people. I met such a person. I truly believe Keio is providing a wonderful education.

Last November, I was invited to the 150th-anniversary ceremony of Doshisha University. The founder of Doshisha, Joseph Hardy Neesima, broke Japanese law in his late teens to travel to America, where he re-entered high school and went on to university. In essence, he was searching for himself until he was over 30. Then he returned to Japan, hit it off with Kakuma Yamamoto in Kyoto, and started Doshisha. In a short life, he spent a considerable period searching for learning and what he should do.

I think the same is actually true for Yukichi Fukuzawa. For a very long time—about half his life—he was searching for himself. In contrast, even though we are now in an era of 100-year lifespans, I feel everyone is in too much of a hurry. Compared to 150 years ago, humans haven't evolved that much, so we can't learn that efficiently, nor can we immediately discover what we should do. Actually, I have the impression that both you, Mr. Ishiba, and Ms. Yoshiko, who has likely spent all this time with you, have constantly raised your aspirations for "what should be done" while performing your daily work. What are your thoughts on that?

Since I began serving as a minister and in other roles, I've occasionally been invited to things like Keio's freshman welcome lectures and given pretentious titles like "Wishes for New Students" to speak on. At this school, you can study anything, can't you?

Being able to come into contact with the highest level of scholarship is a wonderful thing. On the other hand, if you think entering Keio is a kind of status, your growth will stop there. I believe the essence of Keio is coming into contact with—I won't say "learning"—being able to come into contact with the highest level of scholarship.

You mean making full use of the opportunities.

Exactly. It feels like it would be a waste otherwise. So, things like "freedom and discipline" or "freedom and responsibility"—which likely connect to "independence and self-respect"—I think the question of what those are is one of the eternal themes.

It's about "lifelong learning." And for that, Fukuzawa's teachings are undoubtedly necessary.

I believe so. Lifelong learning is important. Members of the Diet can use the National Diet Library freely, but Keio University alumni can also use the Keio libraries if they pay a fee (Editor's note: available with a Library Membership Card, etc.).

I think the fact that one can continue learning for a lifetime is another amazing thing about Keio. The more you study, the more you are overwhelmed by how little you know, but I believe you must not be discouraged there. If there are 1,000 things in the world that one must know, I probably don't even know 100—that's precisely why every day is for learning.

Are there any habits you have cherished as a couple, or things you have felt as the First Lady?

Since becoming a politician's wife, I have inevitably spent a lot of time in my husband's constituency, Tottori. When that happens, it becomes difficult to maintain communication. I have made efforts to convey important matters, but there were times when I couldn't, and at those times, I made my own judgments. My husband, however, would call me every day out of concern.

For someone like me who grew up in the city, being allowed to go to Tottori—which is local compared to Tokyo—was wonderful because it is rich in nature. By going to Tottori, I learned firsthand about a new world, the lost cultures and sensibilities of Japan, and especially about relationships with people.

How has it been since you became the First Lady?

As the First Lady, everything has simply been new and a learning experience. Since I often assisted with diplomacy, when visiting foreign countries, people from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs would first teach me about the current situation of that country, but knowing the history and background is extremely important. Even if it doesn't come up directly in small talk, whether you know it or not makes a complete difference. These were very basic first steps, but I was able to have those experiences.

In that role, I worked hard to ensure I didn't negatively impact the national interest and, if possible, to add even a little positive value, but this is not something that can be done overnight. I realized how much effort our predecessors put into building relationships. This is especially true for countries that Japan caused to suffer during the war.

In the Philippines, over 100,000 local people died in the Battle of Manila alone.

That's right. In that context, I felt deeply that even when there was great local opposition, the fact that the leaders had a spirit of forgiveness changed Japan's post-war path and led to today. It was the effort of both countries.

Twenty-three years ago, when I became the Director-General of the Defense Agency in the Koizumi Cabinet, I was 45 years old and went to Singapore for an international conference. At that time, Lee Kuan Yew (former Prime Minister) was still active as a Senior Minister, and for some reason, I was summoned. There, he said to me, "Director-General of the Japan Defense Agency, tell me everything you know about what Japan did to Singapore during the war." So I told him things written in Japanese textbooks, like naming it Syonan-to or building shrines.

Then he scolded me severely, saying, "Is that all you know? Do you think Japan and Singapore can move forward together with that?" Even if we have forgotten or do not know what Japan did to Asian countries like Singapore, the Philippines, and Indonesia during that war, the other side remembers.

In the Philippines, President Quirino's entire family was killed by the Japanese military. Yet after the war, he pardoned all the Japanese being held as prisoners and sent them back to Japan. Very few Japanese know that it was President Quirino, whose family was killed by Japanese, who did that. I'm sure there are mountains of such stories.

That is the "dread of ignorance."

My starting point is the desire to talk about the Marshall Islands in Japan, so I chose the method of film. In the Marshalls, I encounter many things that cannot be simply stated or resolved as "this is how it is." I chose the expression of film, which leaves polysemic information to the recipient, because I wanted to value the emotions and fluctuations that precede words—such as the feeling of guilt over why I didn't know, or the inner turmoil of not knowing how to react.

Yes. Especially in Japan's case, unlike Germany, we have inherited the state, so we must be conscious of that responsibility. This is not a matter of apologies or such things. I believe we have inherited the responsibility to properly remember "what happened."

The essence of liberalism is tolerance. The essence of conservatism is liberal. This is something Jun Eto, a senior at the Juku, used to say. I like Jun Eto and have read him since I was a high school student. Jun Eto pointed out that conservatism is not an ideology. He said that conservatism is a sensibility of honoring the Imperial Household, respecting ancestors, valuing family, and valuing the community.

Yukichi Fukuzawa also said in "On the Imperial Household" that "the Imperial Household is like an eternal spring."

That's a nice expression. In recent years, "conservatism" has come to be thought of as right-wing ideology. And in today's Japan, people calling themselves "conservative" say things that sound like glorification of America. "Pro-American" and "subservient to America" are different.

I agree completely.

That is precisely why I believe independence and self-respect are important.

Today, we have heard many stories centered on your "Reflections on the 80th Anniversary of the End of the War," and for me, the message "fear ignorance" was a very significant one. Also, while experiencing the importance of freedom and what freedom is as Keio University, we will teach it to Keio students, conveying that while enjoying freedom, responsibility arises from it. Ultimately, through today's dialogue, I have deepened my own learning regarding the various forms of responsibility—the responsibility of politics, the responsibility of the media, and the responsibility of the citizens.

Mr. Ishiba's "Reflections on the 80th Anniversary of the End of the War" will undoubtedly be a major milestone in the future, but for my part, I do not want it to become an era where people say, "Back then, Prime Minister Ishiba said this, didn't he?" This is my greatest wish and our responsibility.

I feel a strong responsibility to move in a direction where we don't have to regret later, asking, "Why didn't we listen properly when Prime Minister Ishiba sent this message at that time?" To that end, the positioning of these reflections is very historical, and we at Keio University are very proud of them.

Thank you very much for today.