by Неизвестный
My next step was to strengthen—perhaps I should say to build anew—the foundations on which I stood in my study of literature. For this, I began to read books that had nothing whatever to do with literature. If, before, I had been other-centered, it occurred to me now that I must become self-centered. I became absorbed in scientific studies, philosophical speculation, anything that would support this position. Now the times are different and the need for self-centeredness should be clear to anyone who has done some thinking, but I was immature then, and the world around me was still not very advanced. There was really no other way for me to proceed.
Once I had grasped this idea of self-centeredness, it became for me an enormous fund of strength, even defiance. Who did these Westerners think they were, anyway? I had been feeling lost, in a daze, when the idea of egocenteredness told me where to stand, showed me the road I must take.
Self-centeredness became for me a new beginning, I confess, and it helped me find what I thought would be my life’s work. I resolved to write books, to tell people that they need not imitate Westerners, that running blindly after others as they were doing would only cause them great anxiety. If I could spell this out for them with unshakable proof, it would give me pleasure and make them happy as well. This was what I hoped to accomplish.
My anxiety disappeared without a trace. I looked out on London’s gloom with a happy heart. I felt that after years of agony, my pick had at least struck a vein of ore. A ray of light had broken through the fog and illuminated my way.
At the time that I experienced this enlightenment, I had been in England for more than a year. There was no hope of my accomplishing the task I had set for myself while I was in a foreign country. I decided to collect all the materials I could find and to complete my work after returning to Japan. As it happened, then, I would return to Japan with a strength I had not possessed when I left for England. . . .
The idea that came to me at the time, however, the idea of self-centeredness, has stayed with me. Indeed, it has grown stronger with the passing of each year. My projected work ended in failure, but I had found a belief that I could get my hands on, the conviction that I was the single most important person in my life while others were only secondary. This has given me enormous confidence and peace of mind, and I feel that it will continue to make it possible for me to live. Its strength may well be what enables me to be standing here like this lecturing to young men like yourselves.
In my talk so far I have tried to give you a rough idea of what my experience has been, my only motive being a sort of grandmotherly hope that it will be of some relevance to your own situations. All of you will leave school and go out into the world. For many of you, this will not happen for some time yet. Others will be active in the real world before long. But I suspect that all of you are likely to repeat the agony—perhaps a different kind of agony—that I once experienced. There must be those among you who, as I once did, want desperately to break through to something but cannot, who want to get a firm hold on something but meet with as maddeningly little success as you would in trying to grasp a slippery, hairless pate. Those of you who may have already carved out a way for yourselves are certainly the exception.
There may be some who are satisfied to travel the old, proven routes behind others, and I do not say you are wrong in doing so—if it gives you genuine, unshakable peace of mind and self-confidence. If it does not, however, you must continue to dig ahead with your very own pick until you strike that vein of ore. I repeat, you must do it, for anyone who is unable to strike home will be unhappy for life, straying through the world in an endless, uneasy crouch. I urge you on so emphatically because I want to help you avoid such a predicament. I have absolutely no intention of suggesting that you take me as a model for emulation. I know that I have succeeded in making my own way, and however unimpressive it may appear to you, that is entirely a matter of your observation and critical judgment and does me no injury at all. I am satisfied with the route I have taken, but let there be no misunderstanding: It may have given me confidence and peace of mind, but I do not for a moment believe that it can, for that reason, serve as a model for you.
In any case, I would suspect that the same kind of anguish I experienced lies in store for many of you. And if indeed it does, then I hope you will see the necessity for men such as yourselves engaged in learning and education to forge ahead until you collide with something, whether you must work at it for ten years, twenty years—a lifetime. “I have found my way at last! I have struck home at last!” Only when this exclamation echoes from the bottom of your heart will your heart find peace. And with that shout will arise within you an indestructible self-confidence. Perhaps a goodly number of you have already reached that stage, but if there are any of you now suffering the anguish of being trapped somewhere in a fog, I believe that you should forge ahead until you know that you have struck home, whatever the sacrifice. I urge you to accomplish this, not for the nation’s sake or even for the sake of your families, but because it is absolutely necessary for your own personal happiness. If you have already taken a route similar to mine, then what I have to say here will be of little use to you, but if there is something holding you back, you must press on until you have trampled it to dust. Of course, simply pressing on will not in itself reveal to you the direction you must take: all that you can do is go forward until you collide with something.
I do not mean to stand up here and preach to you, but I cannot keep silent when I know that a part of your future happiness is at stake. I speak out because it seems to me that you would hate it if you were always in some amorphous state of mind, if deep down inside you there were nothing but some half-formed, inconclusive, jellyfish sort of thing. If you insist that it does not bother you to feel like that, there is nothing I can say; if you insist that you have gone beyond such unhappiness, that is splendid, too: it is everything I wish for you. But I myself was unable to go beyond that unhappiness even after I had left school—indeed, until I was over thirty. It was, to be sure, a dull ache that afflicted me but one that persisted year after year. That is why I want so badly for you—any of you who have caught the disease that I once had—to forge bravely onward. I ask you to do this because I believe that you will be able to find the place where you belong and that you will attain peace of mind and self-confidence to last a lifetime. . . .
Gakushūin is generally thought of as—and, in fact, it surely is—a school for young men of good social position. If, as I suspect, the sons of the upper classes gather here to the exclusion of the genuinely poor, then foremost among the many things that will accrue to you in the years to come must be mentioned power. In other words, when you go out into the world, you will have a good deal more power at your disposal than would a poor man.
I did say earlier that you must forge ahead in your work until you strike home in order to attain happiness and peace of mind, but what is it that brings that happiness and peace of mind? You make peace with yourself when the individuality with which you were born arrives where it belongs. And when you have settled on the track and move steadily forward, that individuality of yours proceeds to grow and develop. Only when your individuality and your work are in perfect harmony can you claim to have found the place where you belong.
With this understood, let us consider what is meant by the word “power.” Power is a tool by means of which one forces his individuality on others. If this sounds too arbitrary, let us say that power can be used as such a tool.
After power comes money. This, too, is something that you will have more of at your disposal than would a poor man. Viewed in the context in which I have viewed power, money—financial power—can be an exceedingly useful tool for aggrandizing one’s individuality through the temptation of others.
Thus, we would have to characterize power and money as enormously convenient implements, for with them one is able to impose one’s individuality on other men or to entice them in any direction, as a poor man never could. A man with this
kind of power seems very important; in fact, he is very dangerous.
Earlier, I spoke primarily with reference to education, literature, and culture when I said that individuality could develop only when one has reached the place where one belongs. But individuality functions in areas well beyond the confines of the liberal arts. I know two brothers, the younger of whom likes to stay at home reading, while the elder is fanatically devoted to fishing. The elder is disgusted with his brother’s reclusive ways, his habit of staying bottled up in the house all day long. He’s decided that his brother has turned into a world-weary misanthrope because he doesn’t go fishing, and he does all he can to drag him along. The younger brother hates the idea, but the elder loads him down with fishing gear and demands that he accompany him to the pond. The younger brother grits his teeth and goes along, hoping he won’t catch anything. But luck is against him: He spends the day pulling in sickening, fat carp. And what is the upshot of all this? Does the elder’s plan work? Does his brother’s personality change for the better? No, of course not. He ends up hating fishing all the more. We might say that fishing and the elder brother’s personality are a perfect match; they fit together without the slightest gap in between. It is strictly a matter of his personality, however, and has nothing to do with his brother’s nature.
What I have tried to do here is to explain how power is used to coerce others. The elder’s individuality oppresses the younger and forces him to go fishing against his will. Granted, there are situations where such oppressive methods are unavoidable—in the classroom, say, or the army, or in the kind of dormitory that stresses military discipline. But all I have in mind in this instance is the situation that will prevail when you become independent and go out into the world.
So then let us suppose you are fortunate enough to collide with something you think is good, something you like, something that matches your personality. You go on to develop your individuality, meanwhile forgetting the distinction between yourself and others, and you decide that you are going to get this fellow or that fellow into your camp—even if it means dragging him into it. If you have power, then you will end up with a strange relationship like that of the two brothers. If you have money, you will spread it around, trying to make the other fellow over in your own image. You use the money as a tool of enticement, and with its seductive power you try to change the other fellow into something that pleases you more. Either way, you are very dangerous.
And so it is that my ideas on the subject have come down to this: first, that you will be unhappy for life unless you press on to the point where you discover work that suits you perfectly and enables you to develop your individuality; second, that if society is going to allow you such regard for your own individuality, it only makes sense for you to recognize the individuality of others and show a similar regard for their inclinations. To me, this seems not only necessary but proper. I think it is wrong for you to blame the other fellow for facing left simply because you, by nature, face right. Of course, when it comes to complex questions of good and evil, right and wrong, some fairly detailed examination of the facts may be called for. But where no such questions are involved or where the questions are not particularly difficult, I can only believe that so long as others grant us liberty, we must grant equal liberty to them and treat them as equals.
There has been a good deal of talk about “the ego” and “self-awareness” these days as a justification for unrestrained self-assertion. You should be on your guard against those who spout such nonsense, for while they hold their own egos in the highest esteem, they make no allowance whatsoever for other people’s egos. I firmly believe that if one has any sense of fairness, if one has any idea of justice, one must grant others the freedom to develop their individuality for the sake of their personal happiness, even as one secures it for oneself. Unless we have a very good reason, we must not be allowed to obstruct others from developing their individuality as they please for the sake of their own happiness. I speak of “obstruction” because many of you here will surely be in positions from which you will one day be able to obstruct others; many among you will be able one day to exploit your power and your money.
Properly speaking, there should be no such thing as power that is unaccompanied by obligation. As long as I reserve the right to stand up here looking down at you and to keep you listening quietly to what I have to say for an hour or more, I should be saying something worthy of keeping you quiet. Or at least if I am going to bore you with a mediocre talk like this one, I had better make certain that my manner and appearance have the dignity to command your respect. Oh, I suppose we could say that you have to behave yourselves because you are the hosts and I am the guest, but that is quite beside the point. It stops short at superficial etiquette—convention—and has nothing whatsoever to do with the spirit.
Let me give you another example. I am certain you all know what it is like to be scolded by your teachers. But if there is in this world a teacher who does nothing but scold, that teacher is simply unqualified to teach. A teacher who is going to scold must give himself entirely to his teaching, for a teacher who has a right to scold also has a duty to teach. Teachers, as you know, make full use of the right they are given to maintain order and discipline. But there is a duty inseparable from that right, and if they do not discharge it, they cannot live up to the functions implicit in their profession.
The same holds true of money. As I see it, there should be no financially powerful man in this world who does not understand responsibility. Let me explain what I mean. Money is exceptionally handy to have around. It can be used for anything with the utmost flexibility. Let’s say I make a hundred thousand yen on the stock market. With that money, I can build a house, I can buy books, I can even have a good time in the pleasure quarters. Money can take any form at all. But I think you will agree when I say that the most frightening thing money can do is buy men’s minds. This means throwing it down as bait and buying out a man’s moral sense, making it a tool to corrupt his soul. Now, assuming that the money I’ve made on the stock market can have a great ethical and moral impact, we would have to conclude that this is an improper application of money—or so it would seem. And yet this is how money functions; this is a fact we must live with. The only way to prevent it from corrupting the human heart is for those who have money to have a sense of decency and to use their money wisely so that it will do no moral damage. This is why money must always be accompanied by responsibility. One must cultivate sufficient discrimination to appreciate the influence one’s money will have in any given situation, and one must manage one’s money as responsibly as one’s discrimination demands. To do less is to wrong not only the world at large but to wrong oneself.
Everything I have said thus far comes down to these three points: First, if you want to carry out the development of your individuality, you must respect the individuality of others. Second, if you intend to utilize the power in your possession, you must be fully cognizant of the duty that accompanies it. Third, if you wish to demonstrate your financial power, you must respect its concomitant responsibilities.
To put this another way: Unless a man has attained some degree of ethical culture, there is no value in his developing his individuality, no value in his using his power or wealth. Or yet again: In order for him to enjoy these three privileges, he must submit to the control imposed by the character that should accompany such privileges. When a man is devoid of character, everything he does presents a threat. When he seeks to develop his individuality without restraints, he obstructs others; when he attempts to use power, he merely abuses it; when he tries to use money, he corrupts society. Some day you will be in a position where you can do all of these things quite easily. That is why you must not fail to become upstanding men of character.
Let me change the subject for a moment. England, as you know, is a country that cherishes liberty. There is not another country in the world that so cherishes liberty while maintaining the degree of order that England do
es. I am not very fond of England, to tell you the truth. As much as I dislike the country, however, the fact is that no nation anywhere is so free and, at the same time, so very orderly. Japan cannot begin to compare with it. But the English are not merely free: They are taught from the time they are children to respect the freedom of others as they cherish their own. “Freedom” for them is never unaccompanied by the concept of duty. Nelson’s famous declaration, “England expects every man to do his duty,” was by no means limited to that particular wartime situation. It is a deep-rooted ideology that developed as an inseparable concomitant of liberty. They are like two sides of a single coin.
When the English have a complaint, they often stage protest demonstrations. The government, however, never interferes but takes an attitude of silent disinterest. The demonstrators, meanwhile, are fully appreciative of this and never engage in reckless activities that will embarrass the government. We see headlines nowadays about “suffragettes” committing violence, but these women are the exception. One might object that there are too many of them to be dismissed as an exception, but I think that is the only way we can view them. I don’t know what it is with these “suffragettes”—perhaps they can’t find husbands or they can’t find jobs; maybe they are taking advantage of the long-ingrained ethos of respect for women. In any case, this is not the way the English have always behaved. Destroying famous paintings, going on hunger strikes in prison which makes life miserable for their jailers, tying themselves to benches in Parliament, and shouting in order to drown out the proceedings: Perhaps these women go through these unimaginable contortions because they know the men will use restraint in dealing with them. Whatever their reasons, they are an exception to the rule. In general, the English temperament cherishes liberty that does not depart from the concept of duty.