Speaking on My "Biography of Fukuzawa"

2024/03/21

My name is Aramata, and I thank you for the introduction. I am 76 years old, a member of the baby boomer generation. As our generation becomes the elders, I feel the need to organize my past. Hiroshi Hayakawa, the president of Hayakawa Publishing and a member of the Board of Directors and Board of Councilors at Keio, gave me a daunting task: "Yukichi Fukuzawa is difficult to understand—there are parts that are obscure and parts that are too well-known—so could you write about him in the form of a novel?" After four years of writing, the novel was finally published at the end of last year ("Fukuō Muchūden" (Volumes 1 & 2), Hayakawa Publishing). It is likely because of this connection that I was invited to speak at today's gathering.

What I feel most strongly—and this gathering (the Yukichi Fukuzawa Birthday Commemoration) is no exception—is that Fukuzawa's way of thinking has been passed down to the bodies of Keio University alumni in a almost biological sense. It is inherited through the body rather than just the head. For example, the fact that the business card exchange and the birthday party are held together is very rational, fitting for the descendants of Fukuzawa, whose favorite phrase in his youth was that he had no "moni" (money).

Of all the words Fukuzawa left behind, the one that leaves the strongest impression on me is the phrase "I have no money" (laughs). No matter what you read, "I have no money" was Fukuzawa's signature line and his trademark. And it's no wonder. After all, he essentially built Keio University by himself. Until then, schools had proper sponsors, like the domain schools or the Shogunate's Shoheiko (Shoheizaka Academy). Furthermore, at the end of the Edo period, the winds of "Revere the Emperor, Expel the Barbarians" were blowing fiercely, and teaching Western studies carried the risk of being killed. He gathered over a dozen students all by himself, fed them, and tried to pass on Western studies to them, so it's only natural he had no money. It was like a low-ranking samurai of the Nakatsu Domain trying to raise over a dozen children.

But here is the amazing part: to maintain such a Juku, Fukuzawa became a merchant named "Fukuzawaya Yukichi." This was a classic Fukuzawa-style economics that killed two birds with one stone. In my view, it's a model of how to apply the principle of "having no money" to the economy. And that business was incredible; he started as a translator.

Actually, I was exactly the same. When I was in my third or fourth year at Keio University, I was hired as a translator by Hayakawa Publishing. That was over 50 years ago. Why was I allowed to do it as a student? Because I loved reading Science Fiction (SF) in the original language at a time when few people did, so they told me I could probably translate it too. Looking back, I realized that by translating books I simply enjoyed reading, I could get money and buy other books.

The important thing is that he properly joined the "kabu" (guild) of the booksellers' association and became a bookseller. Then he sold the books he wrote himself. In the Edo period, even if a samurai wrote a book, authors were kept barely alive. There were no royalties or manuscript fees. You might get a night of revelry, but no money at all.

So, who took the money? The technicians. In the case of books, the people who carved the woodblocks and the designers of illustrations. And the other group was the sellers (publishers). These people received a proper cut based on how many books sold, but the author did not. It was treated as "you wrote it because you liked it," and authors were not considered "craftsmen" in the realm of monetary transactions. However, Fukuzawa tried to make being a writer a profession. Since he couldn't eat as a writer, he became a bookseller. This is amazing.

Today, in the IT age, we are doing the exact same thing. Until now, writers really couldn't make a living, but now they can publish books themselves. It turns out that what Yukichi did as a desperate measure was pioneering—an expression of the management skills of an educator with no money.

Also, Keio was the only place where you didn't have to bow to teachers in school. A nod of the head was enough. The reason was also very typical of Fukuzawa. Normally, one might preach a long-winded justification, but Fukuzawa's explanation was different. He said that in this busy world, doing this every time you meet a teacher is a waste of time. To save time, you don't need to bow. This is also a stylish way of thinking.

What's even more impressive is that when students started commuting to Mita, many had no place to live, so he made it possible for them to stay. In other words, he built a dormitory. Originally, the former residence of the Shimabara Domain was used as a dormitory, but it became too small due to the rapid increase in students. A new dormitory was completed in 1900, and inside it, an autonomous consumer cooperative—the predecessor of today's Co-op—was established. While writing "Fukuō Muchūden," I wanted to see this dormitory once. He built a large dormitory that could hold hundreds of people, where both teachers and students came and went. The top of this Mita hill became a place of daily life. Keio students lived there, and the teachers' wives and children were there too.

A large laundry area was built in a corner of Mita, and students likely washed the athletic clothes they wore every day. It's hard to believe, but at this Keio washing area, baby diapers were hung out to dry. In other words, education started from the stage of everyday family life.

Setting aside lofty intellectual issues, one must eat. I believe this is the meaning of the "independence" in independence and self-respect. It is autonomous independence. Since the fact that one must eat was of the utmost importance, his concern reached every corner of daily life.

At this birthday commemoration, young students from the Keio Yochisha Elementary School and Keio Yokohama Elementary School performed a chorus for us. That reminded me of one of the very important characteristics of Japanese education that existed until the Edo period. It is, so to speak, the "familial bond." A scholar of National Learning named Atsutane Hirata, whom I am interested in, had a total of 3,000 disciples. He taught not the intelligentsia but the townspeople, making even difficult National Learning accessible through illustrations, and he was very popular.

And it is said that the youngest disciple in Atsutane Hirata's register was two years old. Before starting class, the teachers would soothe these children and tell them interesting stories, and then, when they were tired and asleep, they would talk to the adults. In the process, children would somehow absorb various things through their bodies and grow up with diverse interests and knowledge. In a way, playing the role of a mother was a characteristic of the Hirata Juku, and its source of funding was the sale of self-published works. I think Fukuzawa's Juku probably had a similar feel.

I suspect that Keio University was probably the only school in the Meiji era where you could see babies. Fukuzawa clearly stated that making education viable based on this so-called family-style economy—operating independently—is a great force that unites the world as a realm of independence and self-respect.

To that end, he practiced one secret of independence and self-respect himself: save your small change. He told people to save even a little bit of money, no matter what. At that time, it was not common for ordinary people in Japan to save money, but he strongly encouraged it. This is the principle of independence and self-respect.

One might expect him to say, "Go to a big company and make a fortune," or "Hit the jackpot in the stock market and become a millionaire or a great success," but Fukuzawa did not say that. He said to frugally accumulate small change and use it to protect your family in times of need. That teaching was a principle that Japanese people originally possessed, so it was convincing to everyone.

Isn't the life wisdom that ordinary Japanese people naturally hold today the same? The amount of savings held by Japanese people surprises the world. If you're not careful, you'll find many people who have 100 million yen. Americans don't save like that. I think this is a philosophy that remains in the hearts of Japanese people, even if indirectly, from what Fukuzawa said. It's about earning small amounts.

Momosuke Fukuzawa, who became the husband of Yukichi Fukuzawa's second daughter, Fusa, is often ridiculed by the public as a stock market nouveau riche, but he was one of those into whom Fukuzawa-ism had deeply permeated. Once, he said something great in a lecture at Kojunsha. The dignitaries at Kojunsha were gossiping, saying things like, "Mr. So-and-so went from Keio University to a big trading company and has already skipped over section manager to become a department manager. It's frustrating that such a fool gets paid so much." Hearing this, he said to everyone at Kojunsha, "Why are you all talking about such small things? If you want to make a lot of money, you shouldn't come to Keio. If I hadn't studied at Keio, I should have become even richer."

When I learned of this statement, I felt that Keio truly passes down a spirit of autonomy, independence, and freedom. When I wrote "Fukuō Muchūden," I was worried that if Keio seniors read it, they would cry out that I was a disgraceful fellow for writing only about having no money and that my graduation might be revoked. But I was relieved to find that Momosuke Fukuzawa said much worse things than I did (laughs).

As you know, Momosuke was a man who achieved great success in stocks. Amassing a fortune through the market was the method of wealth accumulation that Yukichi Fukuzawa hated most. He believed that working for oneself, moving one's body, and obtaining fair compensation as a result was the true form of self-support; earning while sleeping was out of the question. Moreover, he was angry because his son-in-law did such a thing. However, even Momosuke Fukuzawa did not intend to remain a speculator and soon turned to sweat-inducing businesses like power generation and railway entrepreneurship and investment. He had been treated harshly by his father-in-law, but he cared for his family in his own way. Even when he took Sadayakko Kawakami as a partner in later years, he did not divorce his wife, Fusa.

In his final years, Fukuzawa proposed the creation of educational precepts called Shūshin Yōryō: Fukuzawa's Moral Code and had his disciples compile the articles. Even reading that Shūshin Yōryō: Fukuzawa's Moral Code, he clearly states that even the state should exist as a collection of families. Coincidentally, while I was scouring various materials to write this book, I found a hanging scroll of this Shūshin Yōryō: Fukuzawa's Moral Code at a secondhand bookstore. I truly wanted to get it, even if it cost a fortune. This is because, while the Shūshin Yōryō: Fukuzawa's Moral Code consists of 29 articles, I was moved by the content of Article 21.

"A taste for literature and art ennobles a person's character and delights the spirit; if expanded, it aids social peace and increases the happiness of life, and thus should be known as one of the essential duties of human beings."

Fukuzawa, who in his youth had never frequented theaters and had no interest in singing, dancing, or music, declared that literature and art contribute to social peace and the happiness of life. Since I am a writer, I felt from the bottom of my heart that I was glad to have graduated from Keio (laughs). Normally, when someone reaches the status of Yukichi, you'd think they would want to write in the articles something like, "You too should stand at the forefront of civilization and move forward," or in today's terms, "Do more with AI." However, in Article 21, he wrote that literature, art, or performance—what we would call entertainment today—are also essential elements for peace and happiness. Moreover, it is surprising that he used this word in the Meiji era, but he wrote that you gain happiness not through material wealth but by upgrading your character and broadening your mind. This one phrase is great: "increases the happiness of life."

I think it was an amazing thing in the Meiji era to say that enjoying literature and art leads to happiness in life. Naturally, the government must have disliked it. This was because, at the time, the country was in the midst of a military buildup for the Russo-Japanese War, so the goal was how to win the war, and it was an era when the citizens had to fight as one. At such a time, to write that it is a good thing for each of you to enrich your hearts and increase your happiness, and therefore to strive in theater and art, would undoubtedly draw scrutiny.

In fact, there was a period when Fukuzawa was viewed with hostility by the state as an old hand of private schools. What troubled Fukuzawa most was that when the University of Tokyo was established, universities were positioned as places to train specialists called government officials, and the purpose of a university was defined as issuing diplomas and granting doctorates. This is the educational system that continues to this day, where a university has significance precisely because it possesses these functions. However, Fukuzawa was not a doctor or anything of the sort, and even if Keio at the time had issued a certificate saying "We recognize you as a doctor," it would not have been generally accepted. What made this accepted was precisely the power of the birth of the government school, the University of Tokyo. This was because career paths as high-ranking bureaucrats were prepared for graduates of government schools. Universities began to implement very strict entrance examinations.

Private schools, including Keio University, had to respond to this, calling in great teachers from abroad and transforming into higher education institutions that could compete with the University of Tokyo. If it becomes an institution solely for obtaining a diploma, you can no longer admit infant disciples in a familial master-disciple relationship. It's also impossible to hang baby diapers at a university. But because Fukuzawa was not the kind of person to educate by granting doctorates, I think the name Keio University still retains the word "Juku." The Juku part was originally the source.

However, while it was all well and good to build a university by gathering professors from abroad to compete with government universities, unlike the University of Tokyo, the path to employment as bureaucrats was closed, and the number of Keio students plummeted. The aforementioned "moni" was also lost, leading to a crisis. Keio had to transition to a new system without Fukuzawa.

However, Yukichi Fukuzawa did not die, and Fukuzawa's familialism was not lost. In the process of transitioning to the new system, familialism was reconstituted in forms such as the Yochisha, dormitories, student autonomy, and the Kojunsha for Juku graduates.

There, one last and perhaps greatest task remained for Fukuzawa. Reading the Shūshin Yōryō: Fukuzawa's Moral Code, it becomes clear why he had such a thing written. It was compiled in the 1890s, a time when even early childhood education had been firmly integrated into the government system.

What I spoke about earlier was the issue of higher education. This was because a system had been established where the granting of a degree led directly to a profession. The biggest problem for private schools was that they could not issue such certificates.

Until then, Keio was the most functional educational institution for Western civilization in Japan. Fukuzawa would recommend his disciples to companies he knew to get them hired, or even in government offices, there was no choice but to gather talented newcomers from Keio students, and Keio students were hired as teachers in schools across the country. However, since the birth of government schools, a new system emerged that seemed to close off those old ways. Simply put, it was an attempt to crush Juku-like private schools—to crush Keio. And next came the enclosure of primary education by the state.

I finally understood that Fukuzawa's most amazing feat was the fact that he fought a lonely battle even against that state guidance of primary education. In other words, he opposed the Imperial Rescript on Education. The Imperial Rescript on Education was a hated enemy. This has two meanings. As I just mentioned, private schools found it systematically difficult to operate even in primary education. Second, the way it was done, frustratingly, made very clever use of Fukuzawa's theories on education.

The Shūshin Yōryō: Fukuzawa's Moral Code is written in bullet points, and the reason it was done that way was to counter the "Imperial Rescript on Education." In 1872, Fukuzawa presented a new thesis in Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning) on how to link education and learning. Everyone read it. I suspect even the Imperial Family read it, but because it became a massive bestseller, it became the impact that spread the idea of introducing new education and discarding old Confucian ways of thinking.

However, by the 1890s, the world had become Westernized, so even if one said Confucian educational policies were bad, it no longer resonated with the public. Fukuzawa realized that writing books for adults like Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning) was no longer enough. That's why he tried to make it a "Yōryō" (manual), or a slogan-like form that even children could understand. He thought it would be good to have them memorize it like the "Be energetic all day today" signs often posted on walls. That's how he created the Shūshin Yōryō: Fukuzawa's Moral Code, which consists of 29 articles.

What is most surprising is the anticipation of philanthropy. He writes about coexistence—what we would call it today—saying that no matter what religion or culture people from any other country have, there is no difference in rank, so let's all get along and accept each other. On the other hand, he also writes that it is a duty to fight against enemy countries to protect the country's independence and self-respect. Even for people today, the content is something one can agree with.

On the other hand, regarding the Imperial Rescript on Education, the original was half-burned during the Great Kanto Earthquake and exists today in a restored form. The Imperial Rescript on Education looks like it would be very long, but it's not. Children at the time were made to memorize the entire preamble, "Know ye, Our subjects: Our Imperial Ancestors have founded Our Empire..." but this is less than one page of manuscript paper, so it can be memorized. And as for its content, surprisingly, 90% of it says the same thing as the Shūshin Yōryō: Fukuzawa's Moral Code.

The Meiji Emperor says to cherish your father and mother. Then, it says the most important principle for a family is to serve the country. But the remaining 90% or so says the same thing as Fukuzawa, and it's short. These were presented as the words of the Meiji Emperor, and making children memorize them was considered the beginning of learning.

The first volume of Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning) was written with Tokujirō Obata, and it was released in a series of 17 pamphlets, so even now it feels long to read the whole thing. Instead, the Imperial Rescript on Education did it first by being short and using what we would call catchwords today. Reading it now, as many people say, the Imperial Rescript on Education is neither old-fashioned nor nationalistic. It's so similar that one could even say Fukuzawa wrote it, and seeing that, Fukuzawa felt he had been outmaneuvered. He realized it would naturally enter everyone's heads.

However, here Fukuzawa discovered the most unacceptable thing. As I've already mentioned, two terrifying words were included, and he hated them. They were filial piety to parents and loyalty to the country—"Kō" (filial piety) and "Chū" (loyalty). These are the primary sources of Confucianism, and they were the eternal, unchanging killer phrases that formed the basis of this education. These words were hidden in the "Imperial Rescript on Education," and it is a very brilliant text written so that people wouldn't notice them. It was created by Kowashi Inoue and Nagazane Motoda, but they probably looked at Fukuzawa's books and learned the know-how of writing sentences that even children could read. That's why it's not in stiff language like the Imperial Rescript to Soldiers and Sailors. For its time, it was very soft and extremely short. They created something that even elementary school students could memorize.

Seeing this, he realized that the future prospects of the world of learning and education in Japan were drifting away from the Juku philosophy he envisioned, and I believe deciding to create the 29-article Shūshin Yōryō: Fukuzawa's Moral Code became Fukuzawa's final task. He collapsed from his first stroke while trying to do this and had his trusted disciples compile it, placing "independence and self-respect" there as the keyword. This Shūshin Yōryō: Fukuzawa's Moral Code is likely the first time this phrase appeared.

So, the phrase independence and self-respect that we know so well might have been something Fukuzawa didn't originally intend, but he chose good words. Independence is everything. Start by eating your own food and do things yourself. And it's important to properly handle small matters within the home, and upon that, the nation will naturally be established. First comes the family. I believe this word was the most important issue. That's why I think it resonated in the hearts of so many people.

There is one more thing I wanted to talk about. I think a certain destiny began with the Kanrin Maru. Fukuzawa came to Edo and immediately forced his way onto the Kanrin Maru to be allowed to go to America. There—and I think this was also fate—was Katsu Kaishu, an important person with whom it was never clear until the end whether they were on good or bad terms, riding along. I believe the fact that these two were on the same ship was probably a very important thing for Japan.

Katsu Kaishu is easy to understand. He carried the Shogunate, or rather Japan, on his back. He must have had the pride that if he didn't do it, no one else could. In his perception, Japan was in considerable danger. That's why he thought Japan had to have the strength of a country properly recognized by the world. His mind was that of a politician, and he was dedicated to what to do with Japan. Setting aside himself and ordinary people, it was important to diplomatically maintain the independence of the Japanese nation. That's why he first built a navy. To show that the navy had power, he forced the Kanrin Maru to follow along when sending out diplomatic envoys.

He did almost no work on the Kanrin Maru, but it was a matter of pride to show that Japan also had a proper navy. And inside the ship, they argued over who was the captain. A famous American naval officer was on board and took almost all the command, and since Katsu Kaishu was weak at sea, he was of no use at least on the way there.

But there is one thing he did on the voyage there. That was, in the middle of the raging Pacific Ocean, he tried to launch a boat and land on Chichijima in the Ogasawara Islands. Why did he do such a thing? This story is usually not considered very important.

However, if you look behind the scenes, you find very important circumstances. At that time, there were no Japanese people in Ogasawara, but groups of immigrants from various countries were operating an autonomous territory that was almost a colony. America, in particular, had Perry petitioning to have this recognized as American territory. That reached the Japanese Shogunate, and they realized it would be a disaster if that place were taken. Since it is a strategic point in the Pacific, it would be a problem if Ogasawara became another country, so they had to hurry and start Japanese colonization.

So, he was probably told, "Since you are the naval commissioner, go on a mission to land in Ogasawara and leave evidence that Japanese people have been there since ancient times." That's why, in the middle of a storm, he tried to lower a boat and go himself, but he was stopped by people saying, "Are you trying to die?"

This was likely his true intention to somehow achieve a landing, also to show the world that the Japanese nation had a navy. He went to America carrying many things, not for a private purpose, but for a national purpose.

In contrast, why did Yukichi Fukuzawa go to America? It was to satisfy his curiosity. He had studied Dutch, but when he went to Yokohama, it was of no use, and he thought he had to study English. At such a time, Japan was sending its first mission to America. Normally, as a mere Nakatsu Domain samurai at the time, it would have been impossible to be on board. I think he probably couldn't speak English at all. But he thought he had to go. What drove him was curiosity.

Katsu Kaishu took a sword. He intended to cut down his opponent in America if it came to it, and die himself. Because he was a samurai, he really intended to use it. In the photo of Katsu Kaishu when he went to America, he is gripping a large sword on his lap. That was a precious sword he received from a very important supporter who told him, "If anything happens, this is our family heirloom, so use it."

On the other hand, what kind of photo did Fukuzawa take there? This is famous, but he is pictured in a friendly photo with a photographer's daughter. He showed it to everyone on the ship on the way back and wrote boastfully in "Fukuō Jiden" (The Autobiography of Yukichi Fukuzawa) about how they asked, "Were you doing this kind of thing?" As you can see from this, simply put, he went for himself. He wanted to acquire various things for himself.

However, he was surprised when he got there. He had read about the national progress of civilization in books, so Fukuzawa wasn't surprised at all when he saw a locomotive over there. But there were many things that didn't appear in books. That was American family life and how men and women interacted.

The most surprising thing, which is often quoted, is the story of Washington's descendants. Of course, Fukuzawa knew from reading books that Washington was a famous president. He thought that since he was such a famous president, his descendants would also hold very important positions and be looked up to by the citizens. However, when he asked, "Where are Washington's descendants now?" an American told him, "Washington's son? I don't know about that." No one was concerned with the lineage of great people. He realized that their purpose was to improve their own lives, form deep bonds with those around them, and live proudly and enjoyably in social places like salons, rather than living by titles or peerage.

What surprised him even more was that when he entered a house, a man who had been acting important at the office during the day was in the kitchen at his wife's command, cutting radishes or something. He was amazed by this breadth. And then, there was something called a parliament. In a parliament, representatives of ordinary people poke their noses into politics and complain about the use of the taxes they pay. This exists properly as a right.

At that time in Japan, if someone from below complained to the nobility or daimyo, saying, "You guys are taking what we worked for and wasting it," they would be thrown in jail. In other words, America was free. And it wasn't just freedom; it was a gentlemanly freedom. He realized that this dignity was civilization itself. Unless this was acquired, no matter how much industry was promoted and how many products were made, one would be looked down upon abroad.

Fukuzawa was concerned about great lords interacting with people from overseas. Even when staying at a hotel, they would convince themselves that the hotel was their castle, and even to go to the toilet, they would line up their attendants in front of the door in Japanese style, with the first person properly holding a sword and waiting. Westerners passing by would look at them and say, "Aren't they fools?" Therefore, he realized that unless dignity was instilled in Japanese people, it would be completely meaningless.

By dignity, he didn't mean being "refined." He rephrased it like this: "The dignity I am talking about here is, in English, character." We still use the word character today. But it doesn't mean today's character as in "individuality"; it means having a spirit that has nothing to be ashamed of before heaven.

We often talk about personality or "jinkaku." What that "kaku" (status/standard) means is living a life with nothing to be ashamed of before heaven, being independent and self-reliant, and living by one's own strength without causing trouble to others. Living such a life is the life of civilization. He realized that having dignity—not bullying women or forcing various things on children—is an important element for being able to interact as equals. Therefore, if Japanese people today went to America, they would surely be looked down upon. He understood that they would not be recognized as a civilized nation otherwise.

After returning to Japan, he did many things. At first, he was dedicated to moving the economy and promoting industrialization. But he gradually came to understand. Even in the 1890s, the politicians he hated most were keeping many concubines, bullying their own wives, and acting like tyrants when they went home. He felt they were not civilized people.

Another thing, even worse, was how they used money. Giving bribes, or putting titles and status at the forefront and making people bow down because "I am the president of such-and-such company"—this was also not gentlemanly. Another unacceptable thing—and he cited the example of China—is that a society like China, where free learning and doing what one wants are impossible, has fixed statuses and professions and cannot change. He believed that changing, for better or worse, was important. Of course, morals and the principles of human life also have to change.

Therefore, Fukuzawa considered the mission of primary education to be the education of "individuals with character." He was saying, "Please, let's stop valuing only loyalty and filial piety." For example, filial piety is not bad. It is natural for a child to feel gratitude toward their parents. But this must not become an obligation. Parents must not force it on their children. He said that while parents responsibly command and teach various things to a two- or three-year-old child, once they have grown to a certain extent, they must be treated as an independent human being.

To create such a new index of morality, he created the 29-article Shūshin Yōryō: Fukuzawa's Moral Code. Then his disciples went around giving lectures at local schools and village assemblies. Since the audience was no longer university students, they had no choice but to leave Mita and go out to various local schools. On the other hand, since the Imperial Rescript on Education was issued by the state, it was posted in classrooms in every elementary school. But since this was a private school, the state wouldn't do that. It's amazing that professors like Eikichi Kamada and Ikunosuke Kadono went on stumping tours to the regions more than 100 times at their own expense. They went to each school, gave lectures, and conveyed each point to everyone. I believe the result was that the phrase "independence and self-respect," the killer phrase uttered by Fukuzawa, entered our heads—that was one major source.

I believe this familial thing, the meaning of the ideas Fukuzawa conveyed, is very precious. Fukuzawa's final great task, the Shūshin Yōryō: Fukuzawa's Moral Code, was the cultivation of a personality that could stand proudly before any people in the world, even outside of Keio. He even said he wouldn't mind selling off Mita for this purpose. I have come to think that this is a very important, truly Keio-like character. This is the dignity in education. Today, I felt good because I realized at this gathering that the feeling—what Fukuzawa tried to convey—is still alive. Keio University is, after all, a Juku.

I reflect on the fact that I have spoken quite freely. However, when I asked President Itoh, he said that even if one says such rude things, there has never been a single case in our Keio where a diploma was revoked. So I was able to speak with peace of mind (laughs). Thank you very much.

(This article is based on a commemorative lecture given at the 189th Yukichi Fukuzawa Birthday Commemoration held at the West School Building Hall on the Mita Campus on January 10, 2024.)