The "Moral Backbone" of the 21st Century: "Liberty," "Happiness," and the "Duty of the Maggot" in Fukuzawa's Thought

2025/07/11

It was quite a long time ago, but around the time I returned to Keio University and was appointed as an associate professor in the Faculty of Law, a colleague from an academic society—someone younger than me—approached me and said, "Lately, Professor Komamura, your style is..." I listened with anticipation, wondering what they would say, only to hear: "Lately, your style seems to be resembling that of a certain professor at the University of Tokyo's Faculty of Law, which is a shame." To be honest, I was secretly hoping they would say, "Your style has come to resemble that of Yukichi Fukuzawa," and I was quite excited... It was a bit disappointing (laughs). However, the fact that this person evaluated the resemblance to the University of Tokyo professor as "unfortunate" implied a wish for me to return to my original style.

Before entering the main topic, please allow me to speak a little more about "style."

I was a student at the Keio University Faculty of Law in the 1980s, more than 40 years ago. Regarding Yukichi Fukuzawa, I knew nothing beyond the level of a high school textbook. However, in my third year of undergraduate studies, there was a course by Professor Toshikazu Tsuchihashi called something like "Historical Trajectory of Keio University." I enrolled—and indeed attended—relying solely on the rumor that it was "easy to get credits." Even though I enrolled, I just let the lectures wash over me and didn't take them seriously. Yet, perhaps like the proverb about the apprentice at the temple gate who learns to chant without being taught, something was imprinted on me even through casual listening. For some reason, the unusual names and terms Professor Tsuchihashi spoke of (Hyakusuke, Momosuke, "saiyansu" instead of science, "jinkan kosai" instead of ningen kosai, etc.) remained in my heart. Another thing I learned was that "The Autobiography of Yukichi Fukuzawa" seemed more interesting than "Gakumon no susume (An Encouragement of Learning)." Thus, my history of reading Fukuzawa began with "The Autobiography of Yukichi Fukuzawa," or more accurately, "One Hundred Discourses of Fukuzawa." To be honest, it was much later that I read "Gakumon no susume," and as for "An Outline of a Theory of Civilization," I only hurriedly picked it up after being introduced to it through a paperback written by Masao Maruyama.

For that reason, my style from my undergraduate to graduate years was influenced not by the high-spirited Enlightenment thinker Fukuzawa, but by the "mixture of elegant and vulgar styles" (gazoku konko-tai) that both the young and the mature Fukuzawa used with great enjoyment. As you may know, the "mixture of elegant and vulgar styles" refers to a style where everyday slang is suddenly incorporated into literary expressions. When I write, including research papers, this influence appears in my style. I prefer to write "subarashii" (wonderful) in katakana instead of kanji, or write "kikkai" (strange) in katakana, and I also like to suddenly use "(parentheses)" to insert a tiny bit of my true feelings. For example, where I could just write "those in the know are aware," I would immediately add parentheses and write "those in the know are aware (though many are not)." This is not done out of playfulness. By inserting a soft (here too, I'd want to write "yawarakana" in katakana) phrase with a hint of irony into a tense, rigid text, I intend to highlight the seriousness of the context or emphasize a different nuance that can only be expressed in katakana. I have personally interpreted Fukuzawa's use of the "mixture of elegant and vulgar styles" as a technique imbued with such irony—a skill that could be rephrased as the "specialty of ironic playfulness" (Fukuzawa ①, p. 223 [Explanatory notes by Koizumi]), to borrow Shinzo Koizumi's expression—and I have felt a personal resonance with it.

This has been quite successful and has been well-received by public law scholars and lawyers outside the university—or rather, there are some who enjoy reading only those parts—but generally, it has gained understanding. On the other hand, in the very early days, I was once scolded by a great master living in Western Japan, who said, "Mr. Komamura, isn't this kind of expression lacking in dignity?" When told about "dignity," as a person of Keio, I wanted to say, "We are the original source of that," but I held it back and responded with "Thank you for your opinion" at the time. However, I have wanted to make a slight excuse or explanation regarding this point someday, and I believe I can finally fulfill that today. This defense after several decades is another aim of today's lecture.

Therefore, today, under the title "The Moral Backbone of the 21st Century," I will talk about Fukuzawa's theories of liberty and happiness, and the thought of Shinzo Koizumi, who inherited them. Since it is about the moral backbone, in terms of the "source of honorable character, a paragon of intellect and morals for the entire nation," it is a topic related to the latter "intellect and morals," but since it includes a defense of the Komamura-style "mixture of elegant and vulgar styles," it will also touch upon the issue of "dignity."

At the very beginning of his representative work, "Gakumon no susume," Fukuzawa stated, "It is said that heaven does not create one person above another, nor one person below another." Because this opening statement is so famous, he is often called an egalitarian, but as you know, he clearly distinguishes between the superior and inferior of human beings based on whether they have "learning" or not. In that sense, he is not a simple egalitarian. As we will see, for Fukuzawa, equality is merely a premise for asserting liberty. Rather, this "equality" of natural creation should be understood in connection with Fukuzawa's "theory of liberty." Following that opening statement, Fukuzawa says the following:

"Thus, when Heaven creates people, all ten thousand people are of the same rank, born without distinctions of noble or base, high or low... the intent is to allow them to fulfill the needs of food, clothing, and shelter, to be free and independent, not to hinder others, and to live comfortably in this world." (Fukuzawa ①, p. 11 [Vol. 1])

First, the premise is drawn that people are originally equal in natural creation and therefore are, and should be, free and independent beings. However, Fukuzawa immediately adds a commentary to this.

That is, he says, "A person's natural birth is as one who is not bound or tied... and is free and independent, but if one only shouts 'free and independent' without knowing their 'proper limits' (bungen), they will often fall into selfishness and profligacy." Fukuzawa preaches that "knowing one's proper limits" is essential. This "proper limit" is not the internalization of a feudal order, such as knowing one's social status. Fukuzawa says: "That is, the proper limit is to achieve one's own liberty based on the principles of Heaven and following human nature, without hindering others. The boundary between liberty and selfishness lies between hindering others and not doing so." (Fukuzawa ①, p. 14 [Vol. 1]).

The core of the first volume of "Susume" is the insight that the act of knowing these "proper limits" is "learning." Therefore, it is less a declaration of equality and more a declaration of the theory of liberty.

Standing on such a theory of liberty, Fukuzawa suggests two important conclusions in the first volume of "Susume."

First, Fukuzawa treats the "ignorant and illiterate" who do not understand "proper limits" in the sense mentioned above like snakes and scorpions. He states clearly, "There are no people in the world more to be pitied and also more to be hated than the ignorant and illiterate," and despite falling into poverty due to their own ignorance, they envy others, and furthermore...

"In extreme cases, they form factions and resort to violence such as forced petitions and riots. Shall we say they know no shame? Shall we say they do not fear the law?" (Fukuzawa ①, pp. 17–18 [Vol. 1])

...he is thus merciless.

This sense of caution against forced petitions and riots was deep in Fukuzawa. In the second volume of "Susume," he concludes, "In dealing with such fools, it is impossible to use reason; there is no other expedient but to reluctantly use force to intimidate them and suppress a temporary great harm." (Fukuzawa ①, p. 29 [Vol. 2]).

Second, Fukuzawa adopts a mode of thinking where liberty and independence apply not only to individuals but also to the nation. "The matter of liberty and independence exists not only in a person's individual self but also in a nation," he says (Fukuzawa ①, p. 14 [Vol. 1]). Therefore, if there are those who try to insult the nation, he asserts, "If not a single person among the people of Japan remains and they all give their lives so as not to let the nation's prestige fall, that is what should be called the liberty and independence of a nation." (Fukuzawa ①, p. 15 [Vol. 1]). And...

"Since both a person's individual self and a nation are independent and free based on the principles of Heaven, if there are those who try to hinder the liberty of this nation, one need not fear making enemies of all the nations in the world; if there are those who try to hinder the liberty of this individual self, one need not hesitate even before government officials." (Fukuzawa ①, p. 17 [Vol. 1]).

...he preaches that one must firmly confront the enemies of liberty.

I often encounter arguments that try to judge Fukuzawa's discourse and thought as either civil rights theory (minken-ron) or state rights theory (kokken-ron). To give an example, in "Jiji Shogen" published in 1881 (Meiji 14), Fukuzawa clearly stated his leanings toward state rights theory. After that, he became wary of forced petitions and riots connecting with the civil rights movement, preached their suppression, and this led to "Datsu-A Ron" (Leaving Asia) and, as you know, to discourse encouraging the First Sino-Japanese War. There is a view that interprets this as a break from modern Enlightenment thought. However, as we saw earlier, at the time the first volume of "Gakumon no susume" was published in 1872 (Meiji 5)—that is, at the point of that first volume which positioned Fukuzawa as a representative of modern Enlightenment thinkers—his "theory of liberty" already included, as a reflection or consequence, a control-oriented perspective toward forced petitions and riots, and the idea that individual independence and national independence should be equated and that one should resolutely confront enemies. Therefore, preaching that the government should suppress the unruly actions of peasants, and seeing the fact that neighboring large countries were hindering modernization and expanding their national power as a hindrance to Japan's liberty and independence, and thus developing state rights theory, can be said to be not a distortion of the modern Enlightenment developed in "Gakumon no susume," but precisely the correct application of it to the current situation. At the very least, it can be said to have been consistent within Fukuzawa's philosophical world.

Here, I would like to reorganize Fukuzawa's theory of liberty from the perspective of what its theoretical implications are.

As a modern Enlightenment thinker, Yukichi Fukuzawa was a person who put much effort into converting Western learning (Yogaku) intelligence into Japanese. Since the Buddhist term for freedom ("jiyu-jizai") had already flowed into Japan, Fukuzawa chose "jiyu" as the translation for liberty/freedom and popularized it. As can be seen from this, through this translation, he attempted to achieve a modern transformation of the meaning of "jiyu," which had been circulating in our country since ancient times as a word meaning "selfishness and profligacy." Fukuzawa's definition of liberty is simple. In "Things Western (Seiyō Jijō)," it was summarized as follows:

"Liberty means doing things as one's individual self likes, without feeling constrained." (Fukuzawa ②, p. 230)

However, since this alone might lead to "liberty" being equated with "selfishness and profligacy," he proposed a distinction between the two. That is, as quoted at the beginning, what separates the two is "proper limits" (bungen), which is "to achieve one's own liberty based on the principles of Heaven and following human nature, without hindering others," and ultimately, "the boundary between liberty and selfishness lies between hindering others and not doing so." Thus, he reached the following organization:

"The meaning of this word liberty... is by no means the intent of selfishness and profligacy. Nor is it the meaning of harming others to benefit oneself. It simply means to exercise the functions of mind and body to the fullest, with people not hindering each other, thereby achieving individual happiness. Liberty and selfishness are easily mistaken in their meaning. Scholars should examine this carefully." (Fukuzawa ②, p. 231)

Fukuzawa's formulation of liberty shows several characteristics that resonate with "modern theory of liberty," that is, the modern Western mode of thinking surrounding liberty.

First, there is the point of seeing liberty as "mutual non-interference between self and others." This is likely based on John Stuart Mill's "harm principle," with which Fukuzawa himself was familiar through his writings. Also, mutual non-interference or mutual suppression of harm, as its inversion, sees the "exclusion of interference from others" as the core of liberty. In light of the organization by Isaiah Berlin—a 20th-century figure much later than Fukuzawa—whom I will introduce later, this corresponds to the idea of "negative liberty" as Berlin calls it.

Second, it is noteworthy that he states being free is "thereby achieving individual happiness." From ancient times to the modern era, there is a history of liberty and happiness being discussed side by side. In this regard, Fukuzawa in a sense takes it for granted that "liberty brings happiness to the individual" and directly connects the two.

The third characteristic of Fukuzawa's theory of liberty lies in the "interchangeable use of liberty and independence." As quoted earlier, Fukuzawa stated, "The matter of liberty and independence exists not only in a person's individual self but also in a nation," and in the third volume of "Susume," he declared, "When the individual is independent, the nation is independent." (Fukuzawa ①, p. 33 [Vol. 3]). "The establishment of individual liberty leads to the liberty of the nation." And we can see a formulation meaning that "individual independence directly connects to national independence." It is clear that Fukuzawa conceived the concept of liberty as something that runs through everything from the individual to national governance. And when Fukuzawa uses the phrase "liberty and independence," we can glimpse a perspective that captures "independence" and "liberty" as synonymous, or a way of thinking that sees "independence" as an important aspect of "liberty."

Now, regarding that "independence," the following discourse by Fukuzawa is noteworthy:

"Independence means governing one's own self by oneself, without a heart that relies on others." (Fukuzawa ①, p. 33 [Vol. 3])

Here, it is shown that Fukuzawa understood "liberty," namely "independence," as self-mastery. Self-mastery has an expansion that connects to self-government/autonomy used in constitutional law and political philosophy. For Fukuzawa, who saw individual independence as national independence, an individual's proper self-mastery should be a prerequisite for a nation to achieve self-government/autonomy. In short, apart from the perspective of seeing liberty as "mutual non-interference between self and others," Fukuzawa also had the perspective of seeing it as "self-mastery (= self-government/autonomy)." And he expanded self-mastery from the individual level to the level of the political community, capturing it as a thought that runs through both. Fukuzawa's idea of understanding liberty as self-mastery/self-government/autonomy corresponds to Berlin's concept of "positive liberty."

Now, let us touch upon Berlin himself. Isaiah Berlin was a British political philosopher active in the mid-20th century. His "Four Essays on Liberty," published in 1969, is still constantly referred to today as the most important literature regarding liberty. Particularly important is the third essay, "Two Concepts of Liberty." Berlin, as already slightly mentioned, divided liberty into "negative liberty" and "positive liberty." "Negative liberty" refers to the "absence of interference by others." This is the liberty of "not being hindered by others in the choices one makes," and it corresponds to the question: "What is the area within which the subject—a person or group of persons—is or should be left to do or be what he is able to do or be, without interference by other persons?" In contrast, "positive liberty" is "self-mastery," the liberty of "being one's own master." And this corresponds to the question: "What, or who, is the source of control or interference that can determine someone to do, or be, this rather than that?" The two are, needless to say, in a state of tension, and Berlin emphasizes the former, "negative liberty." In other words, he feared that others who approach saying, "You talk about self-mastery, but the current you is not the real you..." would unknowingly replace "self-mastery" with "mastery by others."

In any case, Berlin's two concepts of liberty were already set within Fukuzawa's theory of liberty as we have seen. All the points that modern and contemporary political philosophy has pondered regarding "liberty," such as Mill's harm principle, Berlin's concepts of negative/positive liberty, and the relationship between happiness and liberty, were already prepared in Fukuzawa's arguments. To add quickly, the thought underlying the theory of liberty as described above is precisely Wayland's "Moral Science," which gives its name to today's commemorative lecture. In that sense, giving this talk today is also a way of repaying Professor Wayland.

Returning to the topic, since Berlin's work was in 1969, Fukuzawa was speaking of these things 100 years before that. I do not wish to praise his foresight here. However, I would like to confirm that compared to Berlin, who was able to write a theory of liberty using all discourses from ancient to modern times as material, Fukuzawa, who deepened his thinking to this extent in Japan where even the corresponding concepts did not exist—even though he referred to Western knowledge—indeed had an insight worthy of the name "modern Enlightenment thinker."

As seen above, Fukuzawa defined liberty as "not violating and not being violated," thereby achieving happiness (that is, happiness results from liberty). He thought of liberty and happiness in combination. For Fukuzawa, the two were synonymous.

Now, Fukuzawa is often called a "utilitarian." In the language of the time, he would be a believer in "Jitsuri-kyo" (the religion of practical utility). He had read the 5th edition (1874) of Mill's "Utilitarianism," and in his notes, there is the phrase "Great Happiness," so he surely knew the principle of "the greatest happiness of the greatest number," which is a major thesis of utilitarianism (Anzai, pp. 72-74).

Utilitarians do not mutually compare and assess each person's preferences. They do not assess the quality of happiness but assess and aggregate them equally. Indeed, Fukuzawa has such aspects. For example, in the 13th volume of "Gakumon no susume," he says that "avarice, extravagance, and slander" as well as "arrogance and bravery," "rudeness and frankness," "stubbornness and steadiness," and "frivolity and sharpness" cannot be definitively judged as either virtue or vice. In short, "All of them, depending on the place of action, the degree of strength, and the direction they face, may become either vice or virtue." (Fukuzawa ①, p. 135 [Vol. 13]). In short, it means treating various human desires and preferences equally. And for those, "consequentialism" is adopted, where they can become either virtue or vice depending on the results of the action.

However, Fukuzawa says. He says there is an emotion or preference that should be resolutely excluded, setting aside such relativity of values. That is "enve" (enbo).

"Envy alone is biased toward vice in its very nature, and regardless of place or direction, it is the evilest of evils. Envy is a dark function of action... and the method of satisfying its discontent is not to benefit oneself but to harm others. For example, comparing the happiness of others with one's own unhappiness, if there is a deficiency in oneself, instead of seeking a way to improve one's own condition and be satisfied, one instead wishes to plunge others into unhappiness and lower their condition, thereby seeking to achieve an average between self and others." (Fukuzawa ①, p. 135 [Vol. 13])

Fukuzawa's point is clear. Envy is evil not because of its consequences, but in its very "nature." He says it is a function that wishes for the unhappiness of others rather than satisfying one's own happiness. Even if one proceeds from utilitarianism, in the aggregation and maximization of happiness, happiness such as "wishing for the unhappiness of others" must not be included in the calculation.

Here, let me suddenly jump to the present day. There are voices calling for the so-called selective dual surname system for married couples. It has been contested twice in the Supreme Court, and the judgment has been established that the current Civil Code, which does not allow selective dual surnames, is not unconstitutional and that the same-surname system for married couples is constitutional. In the midst of this, Justice Koichi Kusano wrote a dissenting opinion, saying that not allowing selective dual surnames is unconstitutional. Incidentally, Justice Kusano is someone who, after graduating from the University of Tokyo, was a partner lawyer at a major international law firm and also served as a professor at this Juku's law school before entering the Supreme Court. And he is a utilitarian to the core.

Now, the Kusano dissenting opinion was also a utilitarian one, as follows. It said that even if the selective dual surname system were introduced, no one would become unhappy. Couples who want the same surname can marry as before, and couples who want different surnames will also be able to marry happily. In short, the total social amount of happiness would only increase and never decrease. Why, then, is the law not being revised? Justice Kusano takes up the reasons given by the government, such as the welfare of children and the beautiful traditions regarding the state of the family, and refutes them one by one.

If I were to attempt my own answer to the problem raised by this Kusano dissenting opinion, it would be this. Why is selective dual surname not realized despite everyone becoming happy and the total amount of social happiness increasing? One possible response to this question is that "there are people who do not wish for the happiness of others." In other words, there is a group of people who wish for the fulfillment of preferences such as "I choose the same surname for my couple, but I want others to choose it too" or "I don't want others to choose different surnames for their couples." This is not a preference of "I want to do this," but "I want others to do this" or "I don't want others to do this," and it is called an external preference. Wishing that "I don't want others to choose different surnames (or I want them to choose the same surname)" is the same as saying "I don't want people who don't choose the same surname to get married, and I don't care if people who choose different surnames cannot get married." The more "subarashii" marriage is, the more this external preference will imply a preference that "I don't want those who choose different surnames to be happy." In short, it is a distorted preference incomprehensible to ordinary people, that "I want people who insist on different surnames to remain unhappy." The fact that such external preferences should be excluded from utility calculations was once preached by the legal philosopher Ronald Dworkin, but isn't Fukuzawa's theory of excluding "envy" as an essential evil doing the same type of argument as the Kusano + Dworkin "external preference" theory, which says that the "passion of wishing for the unhappiness of others" should be excluded from utility calculations?

In this way, even if we view Fukuzawa as a utilitarian, his consequentialist logic is not consistent, and the theory of excluding envy appears as a kind of "deontology" (utilitarianism philosophically belongs to "teleology" and is a position opposed to "deontology"). In this regard, as Masao Maruyama points out, to capture Fukuzawa, it may be more appropriate to see him as a person of pragmatism rather than through the lens of utilitarianism or deontology (Maruyama, pp. 81-82). Whether it be consequentialism or deontology, Fukuzawa's true worth may lie in thinking that one should experimentally test its practical utility in reality, rather than through calculations on a desk or conceptual moral theory. In any case, Fukuzawa, who had already comprehensively prepared various points of modern and contemporary theory of liberty. Fukuzawa, who shows various faces of thought and philosophy that are still valid today, such as utilitarianism, deontology, and pragmatism. Such a Fukuzawa can indeed be called a "person of freedom and independence" (jizai no hito).

Now, to repeat, in Fukuzawa's theory of liberty and happiness, happiness and liberty, and teleology (utilitarianism and consequentialism) and deontology (the theory of excluding envy), probably coexisted without contradiction, and there is a sense that he thought of them as naturally interlocking, in a sense optimistically. Especially that wonderful marriage of happiness and liberty would be far too optimistic in the present day.

"Give me liberty, or give me death!"

This is a famous line by Patrick Henry, an American politician on the eve of the revolution active in the 18th century. Like Fukuzawa, it suggests the two-sided nature of liberty and happiness. A state of slavery without liberty and bound by chains is equivalent to "death." As long as one lives in a world without liberty, no happiness can exist; it is a desperate situation. The situation of choosing death in the choice between "unfreedom or death" was a story from an era when liberty was a shining hope.

Then, how about today? Here is a famous quote by Professor Takehiro Ohya, a legal philosopher and colleague in the Faculty of Law.

"Liberty, or else happiness."

According to Professor Ohya, in the 20th century, the marriage of liberty and happiness broke down, and the two gradually distanced themselves. In other words, it became difficult to obtain both, and one was forced to choose one or the other.

Indeed, in the 21st century, informatization and globalization have progressed dramatically, but people have become unable to endure continuing to make self-determinations within the tsunami of information, and are exhausted from building relationships with different values and different others. In a society where information overflows excessively, we are forced to collect and analyze vast amounts of information and must repeat countless choices. Having many options does not mean one can become happy.

It takes time just to get used to new apps and devices, and cautionary notes and instruction manuals are incomprehensible, and in the first place, we don't read them (can't read them). IDs and passcodes are required even for trivial files (which we won't even open anymore). Remote work follows us even on holidays or when abroad. We spend half a day replying to emails and SNS. We are busy at night because we are constantly monitoring whether we have received "likes" on Facebook. We can't keep up with those around us unless we do sleep-learning...

Liberty is, after all, "freedom of choice." And choice is self-determination. Self-responsibility is stuck to the back of self-determination. The cost associated with determination is, as I mentioned earlier, enormous. Everyone comes to curse the burden that accompanies determination. In other words, they come to curse liberty.

If I were to state this in my own "mixture of elegant and vulgar styles," it would be this. The present day has not only separated liberty and happiness; it has become an "era where being free makes one unhappy." To become happy, one needs to let go of liberty, abandon the freedom of choice and determination, have someone else decide the defaults, and be released from the cost of liberty. This is such an era. For Fukuzawa, independence and self-respect were necessary precisely to be free, but that is a story up to the 18th and 19th centuries. The 21st century has become an era where trying to maintain independence and self-respect makes one unhappy.

Then, in such a complex and busy era of chaos, can the paragon of intellect and morals sought by Fukuzawa, namely independence and self-respect, not be established? Is there a legacy of Fukuzawa's thought that matches the present day and can replace independence and self-respect?

Here, it is the turn of my most recommended work of Fukuzawa mentioned at the beginning, "One Hundred Discourses of Fukuzawa." This is an essay written in Fukuzawa's final years. Since it was written when Fuku-o (Old Man Fukuzawa) had truly become an old man, it describes a kind of clear, transparent state of mind.

The beginning of "One Hundred Discourses of Fukuzawa" starts with an essay titled "The Universe." In the vast and boundless universe, human beings are tiny existences; a human life is but a moment. Fukuzawa begins by preaching that the mysteries of the universe, namely natural laws and physical laws, are what we seek. In a sense, he returns to his roots from the time he was praising "Research Bulletin Kyurizukai."

Fukuzawa, who says that human beings are tiny existences in such a vast universe, finally starts to compare human beings to the tiniest of living things, the "maggot" (ujimushi). He says that humans are, after all, like "maggots." In addition to that, he says this world is, after all, a "play" (tawamure) and nothing more than a game. I very much like this state of mind of Fukuzawa, where he has stripped away unnecessary things in a sense.

And now, entering the core of today's lecture, an interesting passage about "the universe," "play," and "maggots" appears in "One Hundred Discourses of Fukuzawa." It is as follows:

"While knowing that life is originally a play, to not treat this one scene of play as a play but to work as if in earnest, to leave poverty and aim for wealth and pleasure, to seek one's own comfort without hindering one's fellows, to think of a lifespan of fifty or seventy years as long, to serve one's parents, for husband and wife to be close, to make plans for descendants, and also to seek the public good outside the home, and to strive not to have a single mistake in one's life—this is the duty of the maggot. No, it is not the matter of a maggot. It is what human beings alone boast of as the lord of all creation. If one plays while simply knowing it is a play, not only will the heart be at ease and one will not run to the extremes of the play, but sometimes it is also acceptable to live among the hundred plays of the vulgar world and not play alone. The method of human peace of mind should be around here and there will be no great error." (Fukuzawa ③, pp. 31-32) (Bold by the author)

This final destination of Fuku-o strikes my heart. This world, and life, is after all a "play." However, while knowing it is a play, human beings, who are no more than maggots, live it seriously. They struggle to do something with a life that is only a momentary game. Fukuzawa preaches that therein lies the "duty of the maggot." Even a tiny insect has a soul, so to speak.

Then, what is the "duty of the maggot"? It appears in the part I made bold in the above quotation. If it is after all a play, one will not run to extremes; one will not have to become that heated. But on the other hand—and this is where I think Fukuzawa is amazing—he also says, "sometimes it is also acceptable to live among the hundred plays of the vulgar world and not play alone." In other words, precisely because it is a play, he says one can step away from the play of others and pretend to be aloof.

What a paradox! Precisely because it is a play, one can pretend to be "dead serious." In short, he is saying that even in the midst of the "hundred plays of the vulgar world," one can remain a subject of "independence and self-respect."

Fukuzawa, who encouraged individuals by saying that the independence of the human individual leads to the independence of the nation, calls humans maggots in his later years. While preaching independence and self-respect, he says, don't get so heated. However, at the very, very end, Fukuzawa asserts that even a maggot can remain an existence of independence and self-respect without mingling with the vulgar world. He tried to entrust the future of Keio University's legacy to the "duty of the maggot."

Fukuzawa was a person of liberty and independence. At the same time, he said the world is after all a "play." And he was always a person of paradox. His petition for the opening of the Diet, while wearing an appearance that seemed to push for civil rights, saw a paradoxical conclusion that could rather become a state-rights control faction; while being extremely conscious of Asia, he preached "Leaving Asia"; he pretended to have no interest at all in religion, but in the end, he approached a certain kind of religion. When he was young, he said "don't trust doctors," but in his later years, he said "it's a fool who doesn't listen to what a doctor says." He was a person of paradox from beginning to end, and he was also a person of freedom who migrated and played among various thoughts. Fukuzawa was indeed a "person of paradoxical freedom."

The paradox that this "person of paradoxical freedom" Fukuzawa pulled off at the end was the paradox that precisely the maggot who fulfills its duty can be an existence of independence and self-respect. We who live in the 21st century will need to inherit this "duty of the maggot" as Keio University's "paragon of intellect and morals."

Now, with the above, today's talk comes to an end. From here on, it is an "add-on" story. However, do not underestimate it just because it is an "add-on." In lectures, true feelings are often hidden precisely in add-ons and digressions, and the add-on part is often longer. Today, like Fukuzawa, the person of paradox, I would like to put the core of the story precisely into the add-on.

The person I will take up there is Shinzo Koizumi. I want to take up Koizumi, who is a killer content of Keio University alongside Fukuzawa. This is because I think Koizumi is a person who, in a sense, forms a great contrast with Fukuzawa.

Koizumi was, as you know, the President during the era of war, that dark era. And he did the same thing as the lecturing of Wayland's economic books. In 1945, while air raid sirens were sounding, he held a meeting in Mita to celebrate Professor Yukichi Fukuzawa's birthday. At that time, Koizumi clearly stated, let us show that "Keio University is here in the midst of the fires of war," and said he would reproduce the Wayland lecture, and about 12 comrades gathered in Mita.

And just as Fukuzawa promoted the First Sino-Japanese War, Koizumi promoted the Pacific War. He sent Keio students to the battlefield and showed a bellicose attitude more than necessary in a sense.

Of course, what should be firmly added here is that Koizumi was trying to deliver a report to the Emperor clearly opposing the start of the war. However, once it was decided to start the war, he took an extremely dutiful position of promoting it with the nation as one for the sake of the fatherland. That is probably why he dared to appear bellicose. Of course, the death in battle of his eldest son, Nobukichi Koizumi, surely formed a motive for praising the justice of the war.

I think the sense of remorse Koizumi felt for sending Keio students, and his own son, to their deaths for the sake of the war's justice, despite being against the war, was beyond imagination. Koizumi encouraged and urged many Keio students as they left through the Maboroshi no Mon. Many became people who would not return. Soji Kanki, a teacher at the Yochisha Elementary School, wrote about Koizumi's feelings at this time as follows: "Shinzo felt an indescribable heartache for that responsibility. He may have felt Nobukichi's death in battle as an 'atonement'." (Kanki, p. 133). I also speculate so.

Against such a background, after the war, Koizumi wrote a document titled "Reflection" (Sun News, 1949).

"Since the end of the war, people have been saying one after another that they were against this war... The problem is why they let that war, which they were against, happen... Why was a war that people opposed started? As the proverb says, those strong in evil are also strong in good, but the Japanese people, especially those called intellectuals, were indeed weak in good... The traditional sense of face and honor, and the strong sense of duty nurtured by Confucianism, made those Japanese samurai into people with a moral backbone... Considering that they did not, on the whole, err in the great affairs of the nation, we must think about this. Was it not that making this backbone firm was neglected in Japan thereafter?... Was this not the mistake committed by the Japanese? In any case, to become a people who have something to protect in their hearts, is this not the most important thing? Looking back at Meiji, I think of that frequently." (Koizumi ①)

What this "Reflection" text means is clear. The reason the war everyone opposed was carried out was that the Japanese people thereafter lost the "moral backbone" that the Meiji samurai had. If they were a "people who have something to protect in their hearts," they would have resolutely stood up and opposed it. And what is important is that this "Reflection" is not just Koizumi objectively analyzing the state of Japan as an intellectual, but is likely connected to Koizumi's own sense of remorse.

Now, where did Koizumi's "moral backbone" come from?

One of his works is a book called "My Talk on Literature" (Koizumi ③). Formerly at the Juku, there was a course called "Poetics" established by a donation from Mantaro Kubota. This was a subject where prominent figures such as Junzaburo Nishiwaki and Zenmaro Toki developed literary theories. And in 1965, Koizumi became the person in charge of this course. As is well known, Koizumi was a tremendous reader with a deep interest in literature, and during his undergraduate days, he even sneaked into Kafu Nagai's lectures.

As an aside, this "My Talk on Literature" is very interesting. It is decisively interesting, so please do read it. What is wonderful is that Koizumi seems to be having so much fun. He is released from various things and speaking freely. On days when student attendance was poor, he would stop the lecture and have frank literary discussions with the students.

In this work, for a moment, I almost think Fukuzawa has possessed Koizumi. It is the impression that a person of anguish and seeking (as Koizumi appears in my impression) gained freedom for a while and became a "person of paradoxical freedom" for a moment.

Returning to the topic, in this lecture, Koizumi spends a considerable amount of time on a theory of Soseki Natsume. In it, he points out that Natsume is quite a moralist, and especially praises his sticking to his moral stance to the point of being stubborn. When Soseki was notified by the Ministry of Education of the conferment of a doctoral degree, Soseki strongly declined it. Murdoch, Soseki's English teacher, praised this attitude and sent a tribute in his letter, saying, "You did well. You showed your moral backbone." Koizumi places great importance on this and states that this use of moral backbone by Murdoch might be the first in our country (Koizumi ③, pp. 114–115).

Probably at a fairly early stage, this phrase "moral backbone" remained in Koizumi's heart as something that struck a chord. It appears in the "Reflection" text mentioned earlier, and he also speaks of it to Mrs. Vining. Also, the subtitle of the final chapter of "Yukichi Fukuzawa" published by Iwanami Shoten is "Fukuzawa's Moral Pillar," and he is exploring where Fukuzawa's own moral backbone lay (Koizumi ②, p. 165).

Thus, the exploration of the moral backbone that could have existed in the Meiji period but was lost during and after the war, and the moral backbone that Koizumi himself, who could not fully resist the war, did not possess, begins. It seems to me like a cross he made himself carry, as a "part of atonement."

Then, what kind of moral backbone did Koizumi come to acquire? In this regard, a model answer would be to say Christianity. Koizumi was baptized at the age of 64 and belonged to the Anglican Church. Since this is said to have been triggered by Koizumi losing his first grandchild, Eri, to illness following Nobukichi, he must have felt a considerable calling. However, though it may be a bit forced, I think Koizumi ultimately could not find a moral backbone throughout his life. There was certainly a dramatic turning point triggered by the death of his first grandchild, but Koizumi himself, in a letter sent to a friend upon receiving baptism, stated in essence that his understanding of Christianity was superficial and fragmentary and he thought he should study it better before being baptized, but rather he would study it firmly after being baptized, saying, "I do not yet know well what a Christian is; I intend to know from now on." (Ogawara, p. 180).

However, during the 14 years until his death at 78, Koizumi may have firmly studied the meaning of being a Christian and firmly established it as his own moral backbone. Or he may not have. I would like to study the details around here firmly in the future.

However, there were many things that could have become a backbone for him. The spirit of the samurai in the Meiji era, Keio University or Yukichi Fukuzawa or independence and self-respect, the Imperial Family, and Christianity. But there was no clear break regarding them. He may have reached Christianity at the end, but from a kind of remorse as the President during the war, wasn't the latter half of his life one where he continued to impose on himself the journey of seeking a moral backbone as a "part of atonement"? I think he was cautious about the choice of the moral to rely on, even before forming a backbone.

There is one more point I would like to mention about Koizumi. What can be seen scattered in Koizumi's works is an interest in "solitude." For example, if asked "what is important," he would answer "time for solitude," and he wrote that it was a time of supreme bliss to sometimes shut himself in a hotel in Tokyo without telling anyone and be all alone (Yamauchi et al. ①, p. 31 onwards). Also, in an essay where he states he likes looking up at the stars in the night sky, he quotes Emerson, saying, "He who would be alone, let him look at the stars." (Yamauchi et al. ①, p. 70). Furthermore, he empathizes very much with the "spirit of solitary loyalty" possessed by figures of the Meiji era (Yamauchi et al. ②, p. 118).

Moreover, in one essay, Koizumi lists "public speaking" as one of the things he dislikes. He says he has never once been able to speak comfortably (Yamauchi et al. ①, p. 67).

You probably understand now. Koizumi is the contrast to Fukuzawa. Against Fukuzawa of jinkan kosai (society), Koizumi who likes solitude. Against Fukuzawa, the person of public speaking (the person who even built the Enzetsukan), Koizumi who dislikes public speaking. Against Fukuzawa, the person of play, Koizumi, the person of seeking, honesty, and anguish.

If it were permitted to express Koizumi in one word, he could be called a "person of solitary loyalty and atonement." Of course, regarding this designation, there are parts where I am in a sense forcibly organizing it to highlight the contrast with Fukuzawa. Since it is a legal scholar's job to make things black and white, please forgive me on this point.

By calling Koizumi a "person of solitary loyalty and atonement," I do not intend at all to destroy the deified image of Koizumi. Rather, I want to evaluate Koizumi highly precisely because he is a "person of solitary loyalty and atonement." And I would like to say that it is "another face" of Keio University dyed in the Fukuzawa spirit. Should Keio University not also forget the inheritance of this aspect?

And I want to organize it such that Koizumi was precisely the person who stubbornly showed one way of being of such a spirit, "living among the hundred plays of the vulgar world and not playing alone," among the "duty of the maggot" mentioned by Fukuzawa.

It seems that Koizumi was unable to find the moral itself that should be supported by a backbone, or was cautious about finding it. Bushido, Keio University/Fukuzawa spirit, the Imperial Family, Christianity—all of them may have passed by. However, choosing one of them is not very important. It seems Koizumi was talking about the importance of making something a "backbone" in any case, rather than the pros and cons of choosing a specific "moral." What Koizumi sought was to have "something to protect in one's heart," and not only to cherish it in one's own heart but to stand it up firmly as a backbone in times of need, and to speak out and resist with a standing will.

In that sense, Koizumi's famous quote, "Be brave in doing good," is extremely suggestive. In Fukuzawa's terms, it connects to "not only saying it with one's mouth but practicing it oneself to be a leader of the whole society" regarding the "source of honorable character, a paragon of intellect and morals for the entire nation." Being able to demonstrate the "duty of the maggot" in the face of a true crisis is precisely what we inherit as the moral backbone of the 21st century.

And precisely today's political situation is testing ours. When Koizumi once plunged into war, he questioned himself as to why they could not demonstrate a moral backbone. We also sometimes somewhat lightly criticize why intellectuals, media organizations, citizens, and political leaders of the time could not resolutely voice their opposition. However, in the midst of the recently destabilizing security, infiltrating suppression of speech, and political discourse space becoming a business of stoking outrage, this is precisely what we are being asked now.

In the 4th volume of "Gakumon no susume," Fukuzawa insisted on Keio University being "private." When university autonomy and academic freedom are in crisis, centered on the United States, it is being questioned whether we university people can show and defend to the death the moral backbone we are supposed to originally possess.

Now, finally, I would like to say a word about "my own task" and conclude.

It is the problem of "style" mentioned at the beginning. It is a defense of my "mixture of elegant and vulgar styles," which received the point that "isn't it lacking in dignity?" The "dignity" aimed for by the Juku is not a solemn, rigid, and stiff thing. According to Fukuzawa, life is after all nothing but a "play." Probably, dignity is a style that breaks the tension of solemnity and honesty at the right time and in the right place, and does not become vulgar even when demonstrating "play" subtly. It must be a spirit that does not lower one's own status even when using the skill of ironic playfulness. Instead of "isn't it lacking in dignity?", I wish they had said, "Mr. Komamura's writing has play in it." It probably means my training is still insufficient.

Associating with the above "mixture of elegant and vulgar styles" or "specialty of ironic playfulness," if I replace the role to be fulfilled in the 21st century with the task of Keigo Komamura himself, a legal scholar who occupies a humble seat at the Juku, it would be, in short, to write of the anguish of Koizumi, the "person of solitary loyalty and atonement," using the mixture of elegant and vulgar styles and the technique of ironic playfulness used by Fukuzawa, the "person of paradoxical freedom." "Writing Koizumi's anguish in Fukuzawa's style"—that is the task for myself and my conclusion. Thank you for your attention.

(References for Citations)

Fukuzawa ①: Yukichi Fukuzawa, "Gakumon no susume" (1942, Iwanami Bunko)

Fukuzawa ②: Yukichi Fukuzawa (Edited by Marion Saucier and Shunsaku Nishikawa), "The Collected Works of Yukichi Fukuzawa Volume 1: Things Western (Seiyō Jijō)" (2002, Keio University Press)

Fukuzawa ③: Yukichi Fukuzawa, "One Hundred Discourses of Fukuzawa," Masafumi Tomita (Editor-in-Chief), "Selected Works of Yukichi Fukuzawa 11" (1981, Iwanami Shoten)

Fukuzawa ④: Yukichi Fukuzawa, "More Than One Hundred Discourses of Fukuzawa," Masafumi Tomita (Editor-in-Chief), "Selected Works of Yukichi Fukuzawa 11" (1981, Iwanami Shoten)

Maruyama: Masao Maruyama (Edited by Hiroaki Matsuzawa), "The Philosophy of Yukichi Fukuzawa" (2001, Iwanami Bunko)

Koizumi ①: Shinzo Koizumi, "Reflection," Sun News (January 5, 1949)

Koizumi ②: Shinzo Koizumi, "Yukichi Fukuzawa" (1966, Iwanami Shinsho)

Koizumi ③: Shinzo Koizumi, "My Talk on Literature" (1994, Kodansha Bungei Bunko)

Kanki: Soji Kanki, "Biography of Shinzo Koizumi" (2014, Keio University Press)

Anzai: Toshimitsu Anzai, "The Intellectual Sources of Yukichi Fukuzawa" (2025, Keio University Press)

Ogawara: Masamichi Ogawara, "Shinzo Koizumi" (2018, Chuko Shinsho)

Yamauchi et al. ①: Keita Yamauchi et al., eds., "Selected Essays of Shinzo Koizumi 1: Be Brave in Doing Good" (2016, Keio University Press)

Yamauchi et al. ②: Keita Yamauchi et al., eds., "Selected Essays of Shinzo Koizumi 2: Yukichi Fukuzawa and I" (2017, Keio University Press)

(This article is based on a commemorative lecture given at the 190th Yukichi Fukuzawa Birthday Celebration held on January 10, 2025.)