Translation Culture in Modern Japan and Yukichi Fukuzawa: Commemorating 150 Years of "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)"

2023/04/21

Hello, everyone. My name is Alberto Millán Martín, as introduced. It is a great pleasure to be here. I am deeply honored to have the opportunity to speak at the Mita Public Speaking Event today.

I began researching the state of translation in Meiji-era Japan during my graduate studies, and it was through this that I encountered the figure of Yukichi Fukuzawa and his work, "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)." At the beginning of the eighth section of "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)," the American educator Francis Wayland and his book "Moral Science" (The Elements of Moral Science) are mentioned. I am currently researching the textbook "Shushinron," published by the Ministry of Education and translated by Taizo Abe, a student of Yukichi Fukuzawa. I believe that the word "Ten" (Heaven) used in "Shushinron" as a translation for the Christian "God" is connected to the "Ten" in the famous opening of "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)": "It is said that heaven does not create one man above or below another man. Any existing distinction between the wise and the stupid, between the rich and the poor, comes down to a matter of education."

Furthermore, recently, together with Professor Naoko Nishizawa of the Keio University Fukuzawa Memorial Center for Modern Japanese Studies, I re-examined the work "Nakatsu Ryubetsu no Sho," which is believed to be the foundation of "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)." I have been involved in its multilingual publication (“A Message of Farewell to Nakatsu” by Fukuzawa Yukichi: Multilingual Edition with Commentaries in English and Japanese, Keio University Press).

This year (2022) marks the 150th anniversary of the publication of the first volume of "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)." When I received the request to speak at this Mita Public Speaking Event, I wanted to present something commemorative to all of you. Therefore, I have structured today's talk by combining my research theme—translation culture in modern Japan—with Yukichi Fukuzawa's "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)."

In Japan, it seems there was historically little custom of large groups of people gathering in public to listen to someone speak. It was none other than Yukichi Fukuzawa who thought, "This is not right; Japanese people must also acquire the habit of speaking in front of others to convey their thoughts, assert their ideas, and exchange opinions without fearing rebuttal." To this end, he organized the Mita Public Speaking Event in 1874 as a place to learn public speaking and debate, and the following year, he built this Enzetsukan (Public Speaking Hall). Yukichi Fukuzawa was 40 years old at the time, which coincidentally is the same age I am now.

As many of you may know, the word "enzetsu" is a Japanese word created by Yukichi Fukuzawa to translate the English word "speech"—a so-called translation term. First, I would like to introduce an explanation of this translation term "enzetsu" found in Section 12 of "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)," titled "Advocating the Methods of Public Speaking."

"Enzetsu is called 'speech' in English; it is a method of gathering many people to state a theory and convey one's thoughts to others on the spot. I have not heard of such a method existing in our country since ancient times; temple sermons might be of this kind. In Western countries, the method of public speaking is most flourishing, extending from government assemblies, scholarly meetings, merchant companies, and citizen gatherings to minor matters like weddings, funerals, and the opening of businesses. If even a dozen people gather, they always speak regarding the purpose of the meeting, or voice their long-held opinions, or explain spontaneous thoughts to disclose them to the guests. The importance of this method goes without saying."

The story goes that in Japan, there was nothing corresponding to the speech culture of Western countries except for the sermons of Buddhist monks. However, 150 years after "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)," I believe the Japanese have become a nation that loves speech culture.

For example, there is a custom of giving speeches in Japan at wedding receptions, welcome parties, farewell parties, New Year's parties, year-end parties, and alumni reunions. However, in most cases, these seem to be nothing more than formal greetings. As Yukichi Fukuzawa preached, it is rare for a speaker to state a personal theory or speak spontaneous thoughts.

Interestingly, in modern Japanese, the katakana word "speech" (supiichi) is used in a sense that is extremely close to a formal greeting, as evidenced by the existence of books like "Collections of Speech Examples for Weddings." On the other hand, for "speech" in the true sense—asserting one's ideas while appealing to rhetoric—I feel that the Sino-Japanese word "enzetsu" (public speaking) is often used. Street speeches by politicians are an example of this. In other words, I believe the true meaning of the English word "speech" resides not in the light katakana "supiichi," but in the weighty Sino-Japanese "enzetsu." Incidentally, "enzetsu" is now often translated back into English as "public speaking." This building is also called the Public Speaking Hall in English.

The fact that the new concept of public speaking plays a major role in "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)" is found in Section 17, "On Reputation." Here, Yukichi Fukuzawa states that three conditions are necessary to broaden one's knowledge of the world while being active in human society and engaging with many people. The first of these is the ability for public speaking.

"First, one must learn language. While communicating intentions through writing is powerful, and efforts in correspondence or writing should not be neglected, there is nothing more powerful than words for directly informing those close to us of our thoughts. Therefore, speech must be as fluent and vigorous as possible. Recently, public speaking events have been established in the world. Hearing beneficial matters at these events is naturally a benefit, but beyond this, the benefit of gaining fluency and vigor in speech is shared by both the speaker and the listener. Also, listening to an inarticulate person today, their vocabulary is extremely small, and they seem quite constrained. For example, when a school teacher lectures on a translated book, if the text says 'a round crystal ball,' perhaps thinking it is perfectly clear, they offer no explanation at all, merely glaring at the children with a difficult face and saying 'a round crystal ball.' However, if this teacher were a person rich in words and good at phrasing, and explained that 'round' means something like a dumpling with the corners removed, and 'crystal' is a glass-like substance dug out of mountains, plenty of which come from Koshu, and that this is a lumpy dumpling-like ball made of this crystal, then even women and children would understand it from the bottom of their hearts. To suffer from not using words that are available is ultimately the sin of not learning public speaking."

This final 17th section of "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)" was released in November 1876, so it goes without saying that when he mentions "Recently, public speaking events have been established in the world," he is referring to this Mita Public Speaking Event which he organized himself.

In Japanese, there is a proverb: "To ask is a moment's shame; not to ask is a lifetime's shame." Despite this, most students hesitate to ask, "Teacher, what does that mean?" even when a teacher uses difficult words like "round crystal ball." Yukichi Fukuzawa was not just an Enlightenment thinker but also an educator teaching on the ground, so he understood this well and advocated for speaking in a way that is easy for the listener to understand from the start.

Incidentally, when I was an elementary school student in Spain, I heard the same proverb from my teacher. It was: "If you ask, you are thought a fool for five minutes. But if you don't ask, you remain a fool until you die." Recently, when I looked it up on the internet, the exact same wording I heard was introduced as a Chinese proverb. It has an impact, as if Yukichi Fukuzawa himself had translated it.

Now, in Section 17, following the example of the poor-speaking teacher, an example of a student also appears.

"There are some students who say foolish things not worth considering, such as that the Japanese language is inconvenient and cannot be used for writing or public speaking, so one should use English and English writing. In my estimation, such a student is a man born in Japan who has not yet sufficiently used the Japanese language. A nation's language should gradually increase in proportion to the complexity of things in that country and should not be inconvenient at all. Above all, modern Japanese people should strive to use modern Japanese skillfully and improve their eloquence."

In other words, the more refined and complex domestic affairs become, the more the vocabulary of that country's language increases. Therefore, there should be nothing that cannot be expressed in that country's language. So, to become good at speaking, one must first study Japanese. Perhaps some of you feel that the Japanese language ability and literacy of today's youth are declining. However, didn't you all have the exact same thing thought about you by your parents' generation?

Incidentally, I graduated from the Faculty of Translation and Interpreting at the Autonomous University of Barcelona, but the language I majored in was Spanish. Even though I am Spanish, in my first and second years, I took compulsory subjects like Spanish I and Spanish II. This is because to become a professional in translation and interpreting, one must first properly master the language of one's own country.

Next, I took English as my foreign language major and Japanese as a minor. Studying Japanese was difficult, including the kanji, but when I first came to Japan on an exchange program, I made friends and was able to get through most conversations with just three words: "sugoi" (amazing), "yabai" (crazy/bad/cool), and "maji" (really) (laughs). "Sugoi," "yabai," and "maji" were the three sacred treasures for communicating with friends of the same age in Japan.

Nearly 20 years later, I sometimes assume that the Japanese I have learned is understood by any Japanese person, and I use difficult words in lectures or seminars without realizing they aren't getting through to the students. I think colleagues standing at the podium have had similar experiences. I would like to become a "person rich in words and good at phrasing," as Yukichi Fukuzawa said, and become better at public speaking.

In any case, to become a professional in translation and interpreting, one must first properly master the language of one's own country. Those involved in translation during the late Edo and Meiji periods were, above all, excellent at Japanese. One of them, of course, was Yukichi Fukuzawa.

For example, the sentence at the beginning of "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)," "It is said that heaven does not create one man above or below another man. Any existing distinction between the wise and the stupid, between the rich and the poor, comes down to a matter of education," is a famous quote known to every Japanese person, but the original text is followed by "to ieri" (it is said). In other words, because it says "it is said," it is thought to be a citation from some literature. While that literature is not certain, the possibility that it is the American Declaration of Independence has been pointed out many times. These are very famous words in the English-speaking world, but I would like to quote the relevant passage from the Declaration of Independence.

"We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness."

"We believe the following truths to be self-evident. All people are created equal from birth and are given specific rights by the Creator that must not be violated. Among those rights are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness."

The Japanese is my literal translation, but where I translated "Creator" (Sōzōshu), the English says "Creator." As you know, in Christianity, there is the concept of the Creator or Maker and the creatures created by Him.

However, in Japan, the idea that humans were created by a god-like being has historically been almost non-existent. To convey the meaning that all people are born equal, there was hardly anywhere in Japan to seek a basis for that. To begin with, in the Christian world, debates over the existence and role of God have continued for a long time, but today, when asserting freedom, equality, or human rights, one rarely says "because God ordained it."

On the other hand, the word "Ten" (Heaven) that Yukichi Fukuzawa chose as a translation for Creator in "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)" is a concept that any Japanese person, then and now, can somehow understand and accept regardless of their personal religious views. For example, while you probably rarely talk about "Ten" in your daily life, words like "tenbatsu" (divine punishment), "tenshoku" (vocation/calling), "tensai" (natural disaster), and "tensai" (genius) are still used today.

Also, while "tennen" is considered a synonym for nature, doesn't "tennen paama" (natural perm) mean exactly a perm given by Heaven? (laughs). On the other hand, "tennen boke" (natural airhead) doesn't mean an airhead given by Heaven, but probably means someone who isn't acting airheaded on purpose but is naturally so without realizing it, right? Also, "Ten wa nibutsu o ataezu" (Heaven does not give two gifts) is an expression that seems to lead directly to natural human rights, but teaching at Keio, I often see very talented students who excel in both academics and sports, and from my perspective as someone who is tone-deaf and bad at sports, I often think that Heaven *is* giving two gifts.

I've digressed a bit, but even before "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)," Fukuzawa translated the American Declaration of Independence in "Things Western (Seiyō Jijō)." In that, too, he uses the expression "Ten creates man."

Also, the phrase "all men" needs to be corrected to "all people," not just all males. Furthermore, regarding "all men are created equal," there are no two identical humans in the world, not even twins or doppelgängers. This "equal" is understood as equality (byōdō) today, but in the early Meiji years, "byōdō" in its current sense was not yet widespread. Even if a word like "dōtō" (equivalent) were used, it wouldn't be clear what was being called equivalent. Therefore, translating "all men are created equal" as "It is said that heaven does not create one man above or below another man" is, from a linguist's perspective, truly genius and a quote that will remain in history.

I would like to touch upon Yukichi Fukuzawa's role within the translation culture of modern Japan, but before that, I want to note that various translation cultures have appeared in different countries throughout history.

For example, in Spain, where I was born, there was a group of scholars called the Toledo School of Translators from the early 12th century to the late 13th century. Toledo at that time was the capital of the Kingdom of León-Castile, where three cultures—Christianity, Islam, and Judaism—coexisted, and their followers lived together. The translators of the Toledo School cooperated despite their different religions and translated many classical texts that had only survived in Arabic on the Iberian Peninsula into Latin and other languages. Thanks to this, Aristotle's philosophy, Euclid's mathematics, Ptolemy's astronomy, and Hippocrates' medicine spread across the Pyrenees to Western countries, influencing even Roger Bacon, Thomas Aquinas, and Copernicus.

In Germany, various ideas emerged regarding the translation of the Bible starting from the Middle Ages. First, in the 16th century, the reformer Martin Luther translated the Bible not from the standard Latin translation but from the original Hebrew and Greek texts. Furthermore, he attempted a natural German translation that was easy for the common people to understand, rather than a stiff word-for-word translation intended only for intellectuals. However, in the 20th century, two Jewish philosophers aimed for an unfamiliar Hebrew-style German translation, deliberately using old-fashioned, stiff prose. This was an attempt to make modern believers feel that this was a story from an ancient era in a world far away, not modern Germany.

Next, in America, the linguist Eugene Nida developed Bible translation theory and paved the way for modern translation studies. According to his theory, for example, the word "heart," where human emotions are said to reside, can be translated as "liver" or "stomach" in African languages to fit each culture. Nida called this "dynamic equivalence," contrasting it with "formal equivalence." Equivalence means that the source text and the translated text are in an equivalent relationship; if the role played by "heart" in the source text can be fulfilled by "liver" in the translated text, he calls it dynamic equivalence. It is a way of thinking that emphasizes content and context over the form of words.

Now, let's move to Japan. In ancient Japan, interpreting activities are thought to have become active around the 4th to 7th centuries. During that time, through interaction with countries on the Chinese mainland and the Korean Peninsula, Japan began to introduce various foreign cultures such as kanji, Confucianism, Buddhism, and the Ritsuryo system in modified forms, and it can be said that Japanese civilization, which had been developing previously, made a great leap forward.

The people who performed interpreting between Japanese and foreign languages at that time were the "Toraijin" (immigrants) who had crossed over to the Japanese archipelago. Among them were also people who had moved from Japan to the Chinese mainland or the Korean Peninsula and then returned to Japan. It is recorded that interpreting as a profession was born in the early 7th century. Such professional interpreters were called "osa" (yakugo, tsuji) in Japanese. The etymology of "osa" is said to be derived from the name of a clan from Baekje on the Korean Peninsula, or from the place name Osa Village in Fukuoka Prefecture, which is now part of Fukuoka City.

Next, from the 7th to the 9th centuries, missions to China called Kentoshi became active. Realizing the need to train interpreters, the Japanese imperial court established the Daigaku-ryo, an academy for training bureaucrats, in 817 and began full-scale interpreter training. However, although such interpreters could read and write Chinese, they lacked conversational ability, and it is said that despite being called interpreters, they ultimately often relied on written communication. Since ancient times, Japanese people have been good at studying foreign languages themselves, but whether they could apply that knowledge to actual conversation seems to have been a separate issue. The government's interpreter training failed and was soon abolished. After that, the task of interpreting was left to foreigners who came to Japan or those who had experienced long-term stays overseas.

Incidentally, according to records in the "Nihon Shoki" and "Engishiki," there were many other languages thought to have been interpreted during this era besides Chinese. These included the Silla language of ancient Korean, the Amami language which was the language of the modern Southwest Islands, the Emishi language spoken in the region corresponding to modern Tohoku, and the Hayato language of southern Kyushu. Although not widely recognized now, it could be said that the Japanese archipelago has been a multilingual society since ancient times.

Now, let's fast-forward history a bit to the period after the 17th century. As you know, in the 16th century, European Christian missionaries and Jesuits arrived in Japan. While Francis Xavier of Spain and Alessandro Valignano of Italy are famous, those who made great contributions in the fields of language and translation were undoubtedly the Portuguese, known for works such as the "Nippo Jisho" (Japanese-Portuguese Dictionary).

Many words entered Japanese from Portuguese at this time. For food, there are "pan" (bread), "kasutera" (castella cake), and "konpeitō" (confetti candy). For clothing, "botan" (button) and "manto" (cloak). Besides these, many words like "shabon" (soap), "tabako" (tobacco), and "karuta" (playing cards) entered as loanwords, sometimes assigned kanji but often transliterated without being translated.

Shortly before the policy of national isolation began, a Japanese grammar book titled "Arte da Lingoa de Iapam" (Great Grammar of the Japanese Language) by the Portuguese Rodrigues was published. In it, several pieces of advice are given regarding points to note when translating into Japanese. One is that even for the same Portuguese word, different Japanese words must be used depending on the context. Another is that translation should not be a literal word-for-word translation but should capture the meaning in the flow of the story.

For example, in Portuguese or Spanish, the phrase "Jesus Christ loved humans so much that he thought to die on the cross for humans" implies not just that he thought it, but that as a result, he actually died.

On the other hand, Rodrigues argued that if this is translated literally into Japanese as "shishitaku oboshimesu mono nari" (one who wishes to die), there is a risk it will be understood as meaning he thought about dying but did not die. Therefore, it should be translated using an expression that actually means "died," such as "shini-tamau mono nari." In other words, even for sacred religious stories, one should not translate foreign idioms literally but must use free translation so they can be correctly understood in Japanese—a revolutionary idea for the early modern era.

Furthermore, he said that religious terms should be used as they are in Portuguese or Latin using kana characters, without translating them into Japanese words, to make it clear that this was a new religion that had not existed in Japan before. Behind this, there is likely the famous episode of Xavier's failure. As you know, Xavier, on the advice of his interpreter Anjiro, translated "Deus," meaning the one and only God of Christianity, as "Dainichi" from the Buddhist Dainichi Nyorai, and was misunderstood as talking about Buddhism.

Incidentally, a fact rarely mentioned is that "Nyorai" in Dainichi Nyorai also had a slangy, dirty meaning, so Xavier and his companions, who said "Worship Dainichi," were sometimes laughed at by the common people. That is why Rodrigues, 50 years later, argued that Christian proper nouns and technical terms, starting with Deus, should not be translated but used as loanwords.

During this era, publications called "kana-zoshi," which were easy to spread among the common people, appeared. While there were indigenous Japanese works, translated books that turned Chinese stories into Japanese were characteristic. Previously, understanding of Japanese literature was mostly done through Kanbun-kundoku (reading Chinese texts as Japanese), but from this time, materials with unique Japanese notation such as "kana-majiri-bun" (text with mixed kanji and kana) spread throughout the country. Among these, besides translated works of Chinese origin such as "Romance of the Three Kingdoms" and "Water Margin," there are the famous Aesop's Fables. In Japan, they are known by the kanji name "Isoho Monogatari," and there are at least two versions.

One is the so-called Amakusa edition. This is a movable-type book published by Christians on the island of Amakusa in modern-day Kumamoto Prefecture. Because it was a translation intended for missionaries studying Japanese, it not only used Roman letters but was also written in a colloquial Japanese style that was very rare for the time. It remains an extremely valuable document for studying the spoken Japanese of the early modern period.

Separately, a translated book completely intended for Japanese people was also published. Unlike the Amakusa edition, which was a literal translation, this was an adaptation. Difficult content from a different culture was freely translated, and in some cases, the setting of the story was relocated to Japan. Illustrations were included where the characters looked very Japanese, and there were even references to the "Analects" and "The Tale of the Heike." Also, some fables incorporated lessons using the expression "tenbatsu" (divine punishment) at the end, even though it was not in the original text.

These adapted kana-zoshi became very popular and widely known. Of course, behind this popularity was the rich publishing culture for the masses in the Edo period and the high literacy rate of the common people. By comparing these two versions of "Isoho Monogatari," one can notice, perhaps for the first time in Japan, the different translation policies of so-called "literal translation" and "free translation."

The Edo period was also the era of people called "tsuji" (interpreters). This was a hereditary position of interpreter and commercial officer placed at Dejima in Nagasaki. While mainly in charge of trade work, they conveyed international situations to Japan through limited interaction with the Dutch and Chinese, and at the same time, they translated literature related to science, technology, military affairs, and medicine, introducing advanced culture to Japan. Eventually, Portuguese fell out of use, and Dutch became the window for knowing the outside world instead. Furthermore, in the final years of the Edo period, interpreters were very active in opened ports like Yokohama and Hakodate.

The Edo period was, of course, also the era of Rangaku (Dutch Studies). Many Rangaku scholars were also doctors, and the most famous among them was Genpaku Sugita. He is well known for creating new kanji compounds to translate Western medical terms in his masterpiece of anatomy, "Kaitai Shinsho," which he translated into Japanese from a Dutch translation of a German original. For example, to translate the Dutch word "zenuw," corresponding to the English "nerve," he combined "shinki" (spiritual energy) and the Kampo term "keimyaku" (meridian) to create the word "shinkei" (nerve). Also, in the field of modern linguistics, he resorted to a method called calque (loan translation), creating the word "monmyaku" (portal vein) by translating literally from the Western language. It is obvious when compared to the English "portal vein."

On the other hand, another Rangaku doctor, Genshin Udagawa, is known for creating new kanji that did not exist in China to translate medical terms. For example, the "sen" in "ruisen" (tear gland) or "zenritsusen" (prostate gland) was a character he created by adding "izumi" (spring) to the "nikuzuki" (flesh) radical because body fluids well up from it. Another is the "sui" in "suizō" (pancreas), which is a so-called "kokuji" (Japanese-made kanji) created for the first time in Japanese, even considering the Latin etymology. By innovating to create new kanji or combining existing kanji to make new compounds, Rangaku scholars increased the vocabulary and changed the Japanese language.

Even into the Meiji Restoration, the Enlightenment thinkers involved in translation followed many of the translation terms and techniques of the Rangaku scholars. Separately, there were also translation terms inherited from "Kanyaku Yosho" (Western books translated into Chinese). Kanyaku Yosho were, literally, Western books translated into Chinese, many of which were also widespread in Japan.

Knowledge of Western countries was necessary for Japan's modernization. It became necessary to learn about all fields—not just the science and technology needed for "Fukoku Kyohei" (Enrich the Country, Strengthen the Armed Forces) and "Shokusan Kogyo" (Encourage Industry), but also politics, economics, law, philosophy, geography, history, art, and literature for interaction with other countries and the progress of Japanese society. To "seek knowledge throughout the world," as stated in the Charter Oath, the understanding and translation of foreign languages was, needless to say, indispensable.

Then, to represent concepts from foreign languages like English, French, and German for translation, creating new words in Japanese became an urgent task. Yukichi Fukuzawa and Hiroyuki Kato were pioneers of translation from the end of the Edo period, but others like Tokujirō Obata, Mamichi Tsuda, Masanao Nakamura, Rinsho Mitsukuri, and above all, the Enlightenment thinker Amane Nishi, created many translation terms in the early Meiji period.

According to Shuichi Kato, who discussed the relationship between modern Japan and translation, the methods used in the early Meiji period to translate foreign concepts can be mainly divided into the following four types.

The first is the borrowing of translation terms from Rangaku scholars. This means continuing to use terms like "shinkei" (nerve) and "sen" (gland) explained earlier. Others include "suiso" (hydrogen) and "tanso" (carbon) for elements.

The second is the borrowing of translation terms from the Kanyaku Yosho mentioned earlier. For example, the legal scholar Rinsho Mitsukuri reportedly admitted that when he translated the French Civil Code, he pulled the word "kenri" (right) from a famous book called "Bankoku Koho." This "Bankoku Koho" is a Chinese translation of an international law commentary written by the Englishman Henry Wheaton. Other translation terms borrowed from Chinese include "ginkō" (bank), "hoken" (insurance), "kagaku" (chemistry), "daisū" (algebra), and "kika" (geometry).

These two methods were ways of borrowing and spreading already existing translation terms, but the next two were the most actively used methods, showing the outstanding talent of the Japanese people at the time.

The third is the diversion of classical Chinese terms. This is the method of assigning new meanings—Western concepts—to traditional kanji compounds that already existed. These include "bungaku" (literature), "bunka" (culture), "bunmei" (civilization), "keizai" (economy), "fukushi" (welfare), "kannen" (idea/concept), and "shizen" (nature).

Even if you look up these words in a modern Japanese dictionary, their original meanings are often listed. For example, if you look up "bungaku" in the "Kojien," which lists definitions starting from the oldest meaning, the first meaning that appears is "learning; arts and sciences," and the meaning as a translation for "literature" appears second. Regarding "bunka," the meaning "to civilize the people through literary virtue" is listed first. Second is the meaning "the world opening up and life becoming convenient; civilization and enlightenment," and the definition as a translation for "culture" is third. Then, for the most famous one, I will touch upon "jiyū" as a translation for "liberty" or "freedom," which Yukichi Fukuzawa is said to have popularized, later.

The fourth is unique Japanese coinages, called "Wasei Kango" (Japanese-made Chinese words). This is the same as what the Rangaku scholars were doing, and includes "tetsugaku" (philosophy), "shukan" (subjectivity), "teigi" (definition), "chūshō" (abstraction), "jōshiki" (common sense), "higeki" (tragedy), "bōken" (adventure), "keisatsu" (police), and "yūbin" (mail). Incidentally, regarding "kenri" (right), besides the theory of borrowing from Chinese by Rinsho Mitsukuri, there is a theory that Amane Nishi also autonomously created the same compound. Amane Nishi is said to have created hundreds of Wasei Kango, including "tetsugaku" (philosophy), "chishiki" (knowledge), "ishiki" (consciousness), "geijutsu" (art), "gijutsu" (technology), "kagaku" (science), and "-gaku" (the study of...) as in psychology. For us today, it would be quite difficult to have an intellectual conversation in Japanese without using the translation terms he left behind.

Many translation terms created in Japan in the early Meiji period were later re-exported to China, which had begun its own modernization, and spread as far as the Korean Peninsula and Vietnam. Incidentally, Amane Nishi was initially one of the advocates who promoted the abolition of kana and kanji in favor of Romanizing the national language. It is interesting that he ultimately made such a huge contribution to Japan's kanji culture.

From a linguistic perspective, the early Meiji period was truly a time of upheaval. Because it was a time of upheaval, translation terms did not become established immediately. Mainly in the 1870s, multiple different translation terms were used for the same foreign word depending on the person or the work.

First, around the time of the Meiji Restoration, works like Yukichi Fukuzawa's "Things Western (Seiyō Jijō)" and Amane Nishi's "Hyakugaku Renkan" appeared, and various translation terms began to be recognized. Next, in the 1870s, coupled with the era of Civilization and Enlightenment and the establishment of the "Gakusei" (Education System) which set up a modern educational system, a translation boom occurred in the early Meiji period. Literature in English, French, German, Russian, and other languages besides Chinese and Dutch was translated through trial and error by a wide variety of people, leading to a wide variety of results. Translations were carried out by government agencies like the Ministry of Education and the Bansho Shirabesho (later the Yosho Shirabesho and Kaiseijo), schools and private academies (juku) across the country, private publishers, and there were also various individual projects.

With so many translations being done, it is thought that various translation terms became unified and established after the publication of dictionaries like Tetsujiro Inoue's "Tetsugaku Ii" (Dictionary of Philosophy) in 1881. For example, "society" is a representative case where its translation "shakai" gained citizenship as early as around 1877, but until then, countless different Japanese words had been assigned to it. If you look in foreign language dictionaries of the time, words like nakama, renjū, kaisha, shachū, shayū, kumi, and kumiai appear. In my research, translators from Keio University, including Taizo Abe, often used "shachū." It is important to note that "society" has the meaning of an organization or association, such as a group or league, which precedes the concept of human society.

Masanao Nakamura (Keiu), known for the best-selling translation "Saigoku Risshi Hen," translated John Stuart Mill's "On Liberty" as "Jiyū no Ri" in 1872, and in it, he seems to have translated "society" into various Japanese words: government, nakama-renjū, jinmin no kaisha, kaisha, sezoku, nakama, sōtai-nakama, nakama-shakai, sōtai-jinmin, and so on. Interestingly, there are cases where he explicitly stated "namely, the government" in a marginal note.

On the other hand, as you all know, Yukichi Fukuzawa initially used the term "jinkan kosai (society)" as a translation for "society." In "Things Western (Seiyō Jijō)," the expression "ningen no majiwari" (human interaction) is also seen besides "jinkan kosai," but in "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)," it is unified to "jinkan kosai" or "ningen no majiwari." It appears about 25 times from the first to the 17th section. In particular, Section 17 of "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)," "On Reputation," is about "jinkan kosai." Its concluding words, to put the expression more simply, convey this message: "The lands of the world are wide and jinkan kosai (society) is vast and varied, so it is a bit different from four or five crucian carp spending their time doing nothing in a well. It is not good for a person to dislike other people." It goes without saying that for Yukichi Fukuzawa, human relations were a field of study and very important, a way of thinking that is still admirably carried on here at Keio University today.

Now, I would like to speak again about "jiyū" (liberty/freedom), which Yukichi Fukuzawa popularized. The word "jiyū" was originally a Sino-Japanese word meaning "as one pleases," and until the Edo period, it was often used with a negative nuance such as selfishness or self-indulgence. Nevertheless, in some dictionaries and translated books at the end of the Edo period, it was adopted as a makeshift translation for the Western words "liberty" and "freedom." In response to this, Yukichi Fukuzawa decided from an early stage to establish a new meaning for it, began using it in "Things Western (Seiyō Jijō)" from the end of the Edo period, and discussed the difficulty of translating "liberty" on multiple occasions.

In the first section of "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)," Yukichi Fukuzawa's theory of liberty is carefully developed, so I hope you will all read it again when you go home today. Here, I would like to touch upon the explanation of liberty in "Nakatsu Ryubetsu no Sho," written a year before "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)."

When translating foreign words into new Japanese, Fukuzawa carefully explains the meaning of the words while considering cultural differences. Since "jiyū" as a translation term was a new Japanese word, he preached as follows:

"Since ancient times, it is something that Chinese and Japanese people have not paid much attention to, but in human nature, there is a path called autonomy and liberty (jiyū). If one simply says 'jiyū,' it sounds like selfishness, but that is by no means the case. Liberty means the sense of doing things as one's heart desires without causing hindrance to others. When fathers and sons, lords and subjects, husbands and wives, and friends do not hinder each other and allow each to exercise their inherent heart freely, and do not use one's own heart to control another's body, making each person independent, then because human nature is inherently correct, it will not go in a bad direction."

This is thought to be the first definition of liberty completely summarized by Yukichi Fukuzawa in his own words and as his own way of thinking, using only Japanese. "Nakatsu Ryubetsu no Sho" was written by Fukuzawa at his old family home in Nakatsu when he was 36. It connects to his attempt in the first section of "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)" the following year, where he asserted that "the boundary between liberty and selfishness lies between whether or not one causes hindrance to others," trying to convey the Western word "liberty" to Japanese people as a limited liberty rather than an absolute one.

In both "Nakatsu Ryubetsu no Sho" and "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)," the influence of the American economist Francis Wayland is recognized. Wayland was also a Protestant minister who, in 19th-century America, sought the abolition of slavery and the improvement of women's status from an ethical perspective based on Christian doctrine. The source book introduced as "Moral Science" in Section 8 of "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)" is a textbook for college students titled The Elements of Moral Science, published in Boston in 1835. The reason "science" is attached to "moral" is that it has a meaning closer to ethics than morality. Simply put, it is a text explaining the ideals of American democracy.

The fact that the content of this book is the direct basis for Sections 2, 6, 7, and 8 of "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)" has long been proven by the research of Takuzo Itakura, Masao Ito, and others. In Fukuzawa's writing, there are many parts that seem to be literal or free translations of Wayland's original text. It can be said that the ideas advocated in "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)," such as the theory of liberty, natural human rights, human equality, equality between husbands and wives or men and women, reciprocal relationships between parents and children, the social contract, and equal relations between nations, were mainly learned from Wayland. Of course, Fukuzawa digested such ideas, linked them with his own way of thinking, and developed them to fit the social realities of Japan. It was not mere plagiarism.

To that end, he can be evaluated as having attempted to introduce the ideas of Western civilization in a form easy for Japanese people to understand, by appealing to Confucian ideas such as the Five Relationships (father and son, lord and subject, husband and wife, friends, etc.) and "Tenri Jindo" (Heavenly Reason and Human Way), situated between translation and creation.

In 1873, one year after the publication of the first volume of "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)," the "Gakusei" (Education System) was implemented in Japan, and the first modern educational system in history began. The system of school districts and such was adopted from France, and textbooks were mostly ordered from America and Britain and translated into Japanese. They are now known as translated textbooks. At that time, there was a subject called "Shushin" (Morals). Today, hearing "Shushin" might evoke associations with pre-war militaristic national moral education, but in the era of the "Gakusei" which overlapped with Civilization and Enlightenment, the Shushin of the 1870s was the exact opposite—it was the study of international ethics introduced from Western countries. In terms of current subjects, it was close to the content of civics, modern society, ethics, and politics/economics.

They tried to teach Japanese elementary school students about 19th-century American democracy and capitalism, the social contract, the separation of powers, taxation, the parliamentary system, private property, labor contracts, sales contracts, and so on. Of course, it also included matters related to morality and manners, such as correct behavior, not lying, and not stealing.

These were a kind of knowledge necessary for Japan to become a civilized nation. However, all American textbooks were based on Christianity. For Japan at the time, mentions of God or the Bible, which appeared everywhere in the text of a foreign religion that had been banned until very recently, were unnecessary. However, if such parts were deleted recklessly, the context would be lost and the story wouldn't connect. So, what did the translators do?

Here, I would like to briefly introduce the case of "Shushinron," translated by Taizo Abe, a student of Yukichi Fukuzawa. "Shushinron" was published by the Ministry of Education in 1874, but it is actually a translation of a simplified version of Wayland's "Moral Science" for middle school students. As I mentioned earlier, missionaries like the Portuguese Rodrigues concluded that to make Japanese people become Christians, it was better to express God as "Deus" without translating it. However, in Meiji-era translation, to teach the ethics (politics, society, economics) of Western civilized countries like America to Japanese people who were not interested in Christianity, a translation without Christianity was necessary. Preaching to Japanese elementary school students that "because God says so" or "because it's written in the Bible" wouldn't make sense, and the persuasiveness would be next to zero. Therefore, Taizo Abe established an adaptation policy that glossed over Christian content, much like the translated books of kana-zoshi in the Edo period.

In other words, he translated "God" as "Ten" (Heaven), "Jesus" as "Seijin" (Saint) or "Sanken" (Ancient Sage), and "Bible" as "Kosho" (Ancient Book) or "Kyoten" (Scripture). Then, he translated "Devil" as "Oni" (Demon), assimilating the book's content into Japanese culture while leaving the essential parts, making it content that Japanese children would not feel strange or resistant to when hearing it.

For example, if you explain to children, "If you aren't a good child, you'll get divine punishment (tenbatsu). Great people of old wrote amazing books saying this, so you must do so too," it must have had at least some persuasiveness. In the sense that "Ten" came to fulfill the function that "God" played in the original text, it can be said that the dynamic equivalence of the American Nida, which I introduced earlier, is useful. Of course, it's not actually that simple, but that's roughly how the translation was carried out.

Partly due to the influence of Yukichi Fukuzawa, "Moral Science" became incredibly widespread in Japan in a short period, and within a few years, more than ten people had translated the simplified version in their own ways and published them almost simultaneously. For example, a private school teacher named Kyutaro Hirano, a graduate of Keio University, attempted a literal translation and released it as a translation that was very difficult for Japanese people of the time without prior knowledge. His intended readers were people who had the purpose of understanding English while reading Japanese with the original book in one hand.

On the other hand, another private school teacher named Yoshitoshi Yamamoto, a graduate of Daigaku Nanko (now the University of Tokyo), provided readers with an explanation of the original book by likening Christianity to Buddhism while interjecting his own commentary. His purpose was to introduce to Japanese people, as a cultural mediator, what kind of religion Christianity was and what kind of country America was. In this way, much like the Aesop's Fables of the Edo period, it was sometimes done in modern Japan to set different translation strategies for different purposes and reader groups, and to release multiple translated books for the same original work.

This kind of translation culture is the same in the translation of literature. As you know, from the 1880s, the translation of world literature became very active in Japan. Within that, the same work was sometimes published almost simultaneously in a so-called literal translation emphasizing the original text and a free translation emphasizing the translated text.

For example, there is a famous work called Little Lord Fauntleroy, a novel for children by the British-born American Mrs. Burnett. The Japanese title is "Shokōshi," meaning something like a young master, and around 1890, two types of translated books appeared.

The first was a literal translation by the famous educator Shizuko Wakamatsu, and the other was an adaptation by the journalist Isoo Yamagata. According to recent research papers, Wakamatsu's literal translation incorporates the feminist content found in the original work into Japanese, but Yamagata's adaptation completely omits such parts, making it clear that it has become a story for boys.

Also, Shiken Morita, a graduate of Keio University who is called the king of translation, created a style called "shūmitsu-buntai" (meticulous style) that aimed for a faithful word-for-word literal translation even if it was unnatural in Japanese, and left it to the next generation.

On the other hand, Ruiko Kuroiwa, who dropped out of Keio University, is known for publishing over a hundred adapted novels. For example, he translated the famous French novel "The Count of Monte Cristo" under the title "Gankutsu-ō" (The King of the Cavern), and while keeping the setting in Europe, he made the characters' names easy for Japanese people to relate to. For example, he translated the protagonist Edmond Dantès into kanji as Taro Danyū.

Incidentally, "Les Misérables," which became a hot topic again with its recent film adaptation, was translated by Shiken Morita and also adapted by Ruiko Kuroiwa. If I start talking about the translation of world literature, there will be no end, so I will leave it at that, but I will add one last thing.

While the "Genbun-itchi" movement (unification of spoken and written language), which aimed to write sentences in a form as close to spoken language as possible, was popular, the influence of translations of European literature brought about major changes not only in Japanese vocabulary but also in grammar. At the same time, because the transition of Japanese expressions was fast, translated literature always had an expiration date, and re-translation was required periodically. In this way, in Japan, translation activities and the state of the national language are in a relationship where they influence each other. This fact is rarely seen in other countries. Partly because of that relationship, new translations of very popular works of world literature are released many times in Japan. "Pinocchio," "Twenty Thousand Leagues Under the Sea," "Alice's Adventures in Wonderland," "The Brothers Karamazov," "Anne of Green Gables," and recently, "The Little Prince." There are roughly 10 to 20 different Japanese translations for all of them. This, too, can be said to be a unique Japanese translation culture that is unparalleled in the world.

Now, the talk has become long, but it is time to conclude. Yukichi Fukuzawa's thoughts on translation can be seen in the "Foreword to the Collected Works of Fukuzawa" published in 1896. For example, we can confirm the fact that he always attempted an easy style close to Japanese Yamato-kotoba and the current colloquial style, without using difficult kanji or literary styles. He aimed for expressions that even uneducated farmers, townspeople, or daughters helping with housework could understand without problem even if they happened to hear a story of Fukuzawa's work through a shoji screen, explaining himself that it was because "I decided from the beginning that my writing would be for the common world, and I would lead the common world to civilization with common prose in general use."

Also, he said that if a metaphorical expression like "soft as butter" appeared, it would be better to translate it into Japanese as "soft as miso." Thinking from translation theory, it can indeed be said that if the meaning is correctly conveyed, free translation or adaptation can be more faithful to the original than literal translation.

Regarding the story of translation terms like "jiyū" (liberty), the translation researcher Akira Yanabu, who passed away five years ago, evaluated Yukichi Fukuzawa in his book "The Circumstances of the Establishment of Translation Terms" as follows: "Yukichi Fukuzawa tried to speak of new and heterogeneous ideas through innovations in language use, using the Japanese language living within the reality of Japan. By doing so, he tried to change the meaning of the words living in our daily lives, and through that, to change our reality itself."

How were the Japanese people of the Meiji Restoration, immediately after the long era of national isolation, able to translate so many foreign languages into Japanese so skillfully and open the way to modernization by introducing Western civilization to Japan? According to the critic Shuichi Kato, it was not only because the culture and society of Edo-period Japan were quite advanced, but also because there was the field of Rangaku and the translation method of Kanbun-kundoku. Akira Yanabu also evaluated Kanbun-kundoku style as "another written Japanese language" for translation and as a "unique translation method that Japanese people have nurtured," which is rare in the world.

I believe that Kanbun-kundoku has been inherited to some extent in today's furigana culture. For example, even in movie or TV subtitles, you sometimes see foreign words in katakana notation as rubi (glosses) over kanji. To give an example, because the same word "right" in English can be used with different meanings such as "kenri" (right), "migi" (right), or "tadashii" (correct), movies can create scene settings involving wordplay or character misunderstandings. At such times, in Japanese subtitles, by attaching the same rubi "raito" (right) in katakana every time to the different kanji translation terms, it is possible to convey to the viewer that the same word is being used in English even if it is different in Japanese.

In this way, the culture of Kanbun-kundoku, said to have been born in the Nara period, has been inherited even to the translation of subtitles for modern overseas dramas and movies, and can be said to be utilized as a translation culture unique to Japan.

This time the theme was translation culture in modern Japan, but finally, I have a piece of eye-opening trivia to share with you. We sometimes hear stories that Japan is a small island nation in the Far East, a closed society that does not accept different cultures, and has a national character that is bad at foreign language conversation and finds it difficult to be active in the international community. However, actually, according to a survey by UNESCO's specialized database for translated books, "Index Translationum," Japan is the country with the fourth highest number of published translated books in the world, following Germany, Spain, and France. It seems that Japanese people are still bad at public speaking even after 150 years, but if we take pride in having built such an excellent translation culture in the world while improving that, and actively communicate it to the world, wouldn't that be a wonderful thing?

That is all. Thank you for your kind attention.

(This article is based on a lecture given at the 711th Mita Public Speaking Event held at the Mita Enzetsukan (Public Speaking Hall) on December 20, 2022. Quotes from Yukichi Fukuzawa's works are taken from Fukuzawa Zenshū (The Collected Works of Fukuzawa) (Keio University Press).)