[No. 243] Kenji Hagiwara

Thank you for giving me the opportunity to contribute to "Juku-in Raio."

I currently work at a pharmaceutical company, where I develop and execute strategies to deliver new medicines to patients around the world.

I believe that medicine is the "crystallization of human wisdom" designed based on science. To create a single drug, it can take more than 10 years from the research stage to practical use in the world, and sometimes requires a massive investment exceeding 100 billion yen. Because the probability of success from finding a drug seed to commercialization is extremely low—one in tens of thousands—it is said to be a very risky business. Nevertheless, the value of curing a patient's illness or alleviating their symptoms has the potential to create "happiness that cannot be converted into money," and as someone working in a pharmaceutical company, I work hard every day with that mission in my heart.

Here, I would like to introduce how I came to walk the path of a "pharmacist," what I learned at the university and graduate school, and how it connects to the present. I would be happy if this text serves as a reference for all of you who are thinking about your future career and life.      

When I was in junior high school, my grandfather passed away from throat cancer (laryngeal cancer). During the treatment process, my grandfather lost his voice because his vocal cords were removed during surgery, and writing was his only method of communication. I still clearly remember how he always conversed with me in hard-to-read but powerful handwriting when I went to visit him. However, due to the severe side effects of anticancer drugs, he was unable to eat and gradually lost weight, becoming almost bedridden in the latter half of his battle with the disease. It was the first time in my life I had seen a family member become so weak, and it was very shocking. My grandfather was an energetic person who started a company in a completely new field in his mid-30s after being a residential salesperson and grew it into a company loved by the local community, so the shock of seeing him so weakened was very great because of that gap. Witnessing this, even as a junior high school student, I began to have a vague question: "Why does cancer treatment make people suffer so much?" At the same time, a vague interest and curiosity sprouted: "How can we make better medicines?" It wasn't something strong that I was always conscious of, but it was something hazy that remained somewhere in my subconscious.

Time passed, and at the turning point of choosing between science and humanities classes in high school, I chose the science track without hesitation, partly because of a rough sense that "to become a pharmacist, I should be in the science track," and also because I originally liked mathematics and science. When I was a high school senior, there were moments when I struggled with choosing a faculty at the university, but I received advice from the principal, who said, "If you want to make medicine, the Faculty of Science and Technology would be good" (Note: By the way, there are laboratories conducting "drug discovery research" in the School of Medicine and Faculty of Pharmacy as well, so this is not necessarily the only way), and I decided to go to the Faculty of Science and Technology. This was a major turning point, but looking back now, I think I made a good choice.

At the university, I wanted to enter the laboratory closest to drug discovery, so I chose the Department of Biosciences and Informatics. Every day was busy with experiments and writing reports, but the time spent studying things I was interested in with my classmates was simply fun. In my fourth year of university, under the guidance of Professor Tomonori Sato and Professor Teruhiko Matsubara, I devoted myself to basic research on drug delivery systems (technology to efficiently transport drugs to necessary locations in the body).

This was research on a technology indispensable for drug making, and it was exactly what I wanted to do. Drugs have parts of the body where you want them to work and parts where you don't. Through delivery systems, the required amount can be delivered to the target site at the required timing, while exposure to non-target sites can be minimized to suppress side effects. In my research, to achieve this, I first created small nano-sized particles encapsulating genes using a material called biomaterial, which has little irritation to the living body. I established a gene therapy system to deliver these to cancer cells in the body to kill them and was able to confirm its effectiveness in animal models. In the process, there were many unexpected failures and setbacks, and there were days of struggle that were mentally and physically difficult. I feel that I was able to overcome these times thanks to receiving new ideas from discussions with friends in the department and lab, and above all, because my supervisors, Professor Sato and Professor Matsubara, gave me much valuable advice and even connected me with professors from other laboratories in the same department (Professor Nobuhide Doi, Professor Kotaro Oka, Professor Masaya Imoto) and professors from other universities. I still remember various scenes vividly. For example, extracting proteins from cancer cells for hours while freezing in a cold room at 4 degrees Celsius, or conversely, observing glowing cells while sweating in a dark room dedicated to microscope observation where the air conditioning didn't work well, or praying at the Yagami Shrine next to the university that the nanoparticles I prepared would work on mice with tumors. Other fun memories include spending time every night talking about research or just chatting at the school cafeteria or nearby diners with professors and students from other labs, calling it the "Dinner Club."

In this way, with everyone's support, I was able to learn from the accumulation of failures in experiments, sharpen the few percent that went well, and continue to follow a very narrow path that no one had ever traveled, immersing myself in this research until I obtained my doctorate. I believe that a doctorate is proof that, even if it is a very narrow and niche field, you stood at the world's forefront in that field at that time. Incidentally, regarding my research theme in the Ph.D. program, I was selected as a Research Fellow of the Japan Society for the Promotion of Science, and based on the results obtained, I was able to receive The Fujiwara Award from the Faculty of Science and Technology. Also, thanks to Professor Sato's guidance, the submission and acceptance of papers to professional journals proceeded smoothly, and I was able to complete the Master's and Ph.D. program in a total of three and a half years. Achieving these things gave me great confidence, and they shine brightly in my heart, encouraging me even in difficult or sad times. Being able to immerse myself as much as I wanted in the research and study I wanted to do, in a wonderful environment without any constraints, was a happy time that is irreplaceable. Looking back, the period I spent at Keio University was a time that taught me the importance of not just cramming knowledge, but thoroughly facing the things and goals I want to achieve, and overcoming them while cooperating with and receiving help from friends and professors, and above all, while having fun. The experience of struggling through trial and error toward achieving goals and refining ideas through repeated discussions with various people remains the core of my philosophy of action even now that I have entered society.

Toward the goal of "making medicine," I had the choice of pursuing a path as a university researcher or professor (academia) or going to a pharmaceutical company, but I felt attracted to the financial power and sense of speed possessed by pharmaceutical companies and decided to start my career as a researcher in a company. In a company, projects proceed in units of teams rather than individuals, so the speed of progress was faster than I imagined, and I was constantly overwhelmed by daily changes. Even as a researcher, just doing experiments was not enough; I had to immediately share the latest data with the team, report to managers and upper management, and work out the next actions. Furthermore, drafting new research themes and being taught new experimental techniques made every day fresh and exciting. During the seven years I spent at the Research Centers and Institutes, I experienced a series of early drug discovery research, including joint research with US labs and academia, and leading research project teams to patent and publish technologies. In parallel, through learning in internal training and dialogues with the people I met there, my desire to "know more about the business side as a pharmacist" gradually grew stronger, and I made the decision to take off my white coat and leave my research position.

After that, while struggling with English exams (GMAT, TOEFL, IELTS) and interview preparation essential for studying at a graduate school abroad alongside my work, I was accepted into the Full-time MBA Program at the University of Oxford in the UK and went to study abroad. Looking back, the exam preparation process was overwhelmingly more grueling than the study abroad period itself, and I feel that the experience here tempered my own toughness. As an aside, the graduate school interviewer recognized that "Keio is a wonderful university in Japan," and indeed, there were many Keio University graduates among the students studying at Oxford graduate school at the same time. There were fellow alumni at Oxford who were working hard every day to enhance their expertise in a wide range of fields such as not only MBA but also bio, economics, law, and AI, and I remember feeling happy and encouraged that the Keio University alumni network was spreading across the world.

The MBA program at Oxford was a place of intense learning with friends active around the world, and there were many inspirations. As one important point among them, I learned the idea that "the value of work should not be measured only by the scale of money, but should also be evaluated by the impact it brings to society." Applying this to the pharmaceutical industry, while it is a business in general terms and thus pursues profit, at the same time, it is more important than anything else to bring happiness to our customers, the patients. Examples include providing value that is difficult to convert into money, such as "not just alleviating symptoms but curing the disease from its root," "reducing physical and mental stress from treatment so one can sleep well at night," "reducing the frequency of hospital visits," and "having small side effects so the number of concomitant drugs can be reduced." It sounds obvious, but when I was about to lose sight of the "meaning of work" while being busy with the work in front of me in the rough seas of capitalist society, I was able to engrave in my heart the code of conduct to return to: "All work is for contributing to the happiness of patients and their families."

To give back what I learned here to society, after returning to the company, I have been working in a department that considers strategies to deliver new drug candidates from the late development stage to just after launch to patients around the world, and executes them in global teams where members with diverse backgrounds and expertise gather. I feel that being able to work every day with members who believe in maximizing the value brought to patients and purely pursue that is a very rewarding job. While enlisting the help of experts in each field (for example, development, medical, patient advocacy (activities to reflect the voices of patients in strategy), etc.), I listen to the raw voices of patients and doctors to understand "what is required at the treatment site," and I work while keeping in mind to thoroughly discuss what kind of value provision to make as a company and execute it in a way that everyone is truly convinced of.

Steve Jobs described his career as "connecting the dots," and I myself truly feel that my experiences, including my days at Keio University, are connecting into a single line.

Looking back, the origin of everything was the simple question I had when I witnessed my grandfather's battle with illness as a junior high school student: "Why does cancer treatment make people suffer so much?" That hazy question placed the "dot" of choosing between science and humanities in high school and then proceeding to the Faculty of Science and Technology, which connected to the new "dot" of research at the university and graduate school.

There were many failures in my research at the university and graduate school, but the time spent discussing with friends and professors at Yagami and repeating trial and error had a meaning beyond mere acquisition of knowledge. The accumulation of seemingly useless detours and failures is exactly what becomes the flesh and blood for taking the next step; such tangible experiences that transcend logic support the foundation of my career.

After that, through a research position at a company, I experienced the uppermost stream where the crystallization of human wisdom called "medicine" is born, and after studying for an MBA, I steered toward my current role in global product strategy. It may seem like a big transition from research to business at first glance, but at the root is a consistent desire to "deliver better medicines to patients faster." That desire has grown like a snowball with each experience and has now culminated in my own mission to maximize the happiness of people around the world waiting for new treatments.

I am certain that the time I spent at Keio University was not just a place to hone my expertise, but an extremely precious time where I was able to find what I am attracted to and what I want to value in my life through dialogues with friends and professors.