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 does. I am not very fond of England, to tell you the truth. As much a
s 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.
I am not suggesting that we take England as a model. I simply believe that freedom without a sense of duty is not true freedom, for such self-indulgent freedom cannot exist in society. And if for a moment, it did, it would quickly be expelled, stamped out by others. I sincerely wish for all of you to be free. At the same time I want to make very certain that you understand what we mean by “duty.” I believe in and practice individualism in this sense, and I do not hesitate to declare this before you now.
There must be no misunderstanding in what I mean by “individualism.” I ask your undivided attention on this point, for it would be particularly unforgivable of me to instill misunderstanding in young men such as yourselves. Time is running short, so let me explain individualism as simply as I can. Individual liberty is indispensable for the development of the individuality that I spoke of earlier. And the development of your individuality will have a great bearing on your happiness. Thus it would seem to me that we must keep for ourselves and grant to others a degree of liberty such that I can turn left while you turn right, each of us equally unhindered so long as what we do has no effect on others. This is what I mean when I speak of individualism.
The same is true of power and money. What will happen if people abuse these things, if they exploit their wealth and power to attack men they happen not to like? This will surely destroy individuality and give rise to human misery. For example, what if the police commissioner had his men surround my house for no better reason than that the government did not take a fancy to me? The commissioner may actually have that much power, but decency will not permit him to use it in this manner. Or again, what if one of the great magnates—Mitsui, say, or Iwasaki—were to bribe our maid and have her oppose me in everything? If these individuals have the slightest bit of what we call character behind their money, it would never occur to them to commit such an injustice.
All such evils arise because people like that are incapable of understanding ethical individualism. They try, instead, to aggrandize themselves at the expense of the general public, to use their power—be it financial or otherwise—to further their own selfish ends. Thus it is that individualism—the individualism I am describing here—in no way resembles the danger to the nation that ignorant people imagine it to be. As I see it, individualism advocates respecting the existence of others at the same time that one respects one’s own existence. I find that a most worthy philosophy.
More simply stated, individualism is a philosophy that replaces cliquism with values based on personal judgment of right and wrong. An individualist is not forever running with the group, forming cliques that thrash around blindly in the interests of power and money. That is why there lurks beneath the surface of his philosophy a loneliness unknown to others. As soon as we deny our little groups, then I simply go my way and I let the other man go his unhindered. Sometimes, in some instances, we cannot avoid becoming scattered. That is what is lonely.
Back when I was in charge of the literary column of the Asahi shinbun, we ran an article with an unflattering remark about Miyake Setsurei. It was a critical commentary, of course, not a personal attack, and it consisted of a mere line or two. I don’t remember exactly when it was printed—perhaps while I was sick, or possibly I was the one who gave the go-ahead—but in any case, this bit of criticism appeared in the Asahi literary column, which made them very angry over at Setsurei’s magazine, Nihon oyobi Nihonjin. They didn’t deal directly with me but approached a subordinate of mine, demanding a retraction. Setsurei himself, of course, had nothing to do with this. It was something that a few of his henchmen took it upon themselves to do. (Perhaps I should call them his “colleagues.” “Henchmen” makes them sound like a bunch of thugs.)Well, these “colleagues” of his insisted on a retraction. We would have been happy to oblige them, of course, if it had been a question of factual error, but this was a critique, after all, and there was nothing we could do but insist on our right to publish what we wanted. Their demand was surprising enough in itself, but then some of these men at Nihon oyobi Nihonjin started writing negative comments about me in every issue, which truly came as a shock. I never dealt with them directly, but when I heard what was going on, it made me feel very odd, for while I was acting out of individualism, they seemed to be functioning strictly as a clique. At times, I had gone so far as to publish negative reviews of my own novels in the literary column that I myself controlled, so it shocked me and made me feel very strange to see these “colleagues” of Setsurei angered by a little criticism. I know this will sound disrespectful, but I could not help feeling that they were living in the wrong century. They were like something out of the feudal age.
But even as I concluded this of Setsurei’s men, I myself could not deny a sense of loneliness. Differences of opinion, I know, are bound to arise between the closest of friends. That is why I may have given advice to the many young men who frequent my home but have never—unless for some other substantial reason—tried to keep any of them from expressing their views. I acknowledge the existence of others; I grant them this degree of freedom. Thus I can never hope for another man to support me against his will, however wronged by someone I may feel. Herein lies the loneliness of individualism. Before the individualist will take a stand based on what others are doing, he chooses a course of action based on the merits of the case. Sometimes, as a result, he will find himself quite alone. He will miss the comfort of having allies. And that is as it should be: even matchsticks feel secure in a bundle.
I would like to add just another word to prevent any misunderstanding. Many people seem to think of individualism as something opposed to—even destructive of—nationalism. But individualism in no way justifies such a misguided, illogical interpretation. (Actually, I don’t like these labels I’ve been using. People are not to be neatly defined by any single “ism.” For clarity’s sake, however, I am forced to discuss a variety of subjects under one heading.) Some people nowadays are spreading the idea—and they believe it—that Japan cannot survive unless it is entirely nationalistic. Many go so far as to assert that our nation will perish unless this terrible “individualism” is stamped out. What utter nonsense! All of us, in fact, are nationalists and internationalists and individualists as well.
Freedom is the essential substance of individualism, which, in turn, forms the foundation of individual happiness. Each man’s share of freedom, however, rises and falls like a thermometer in accordance with the relative security or insecurity of the nation. This is not so much an abstract theory as a generalization determined by the facts; it is the way things happen in the natural course of events. The individual’s liberty contracts when the country is threatened and expands when the nation is at peace. This is all obvious. No man of character is going to aim solely at the development of his individuality when the very survival of the nation is at stake. On the other hand, do be sure you see that the individualism I am talking about implies a warning against becoming the kind of fellow who insists on keeping his helmet on even after the fire is out, the man who wants to keep in lockstep when that is no longer necessary.
Here is another example. When I was in higher school, some of the students organized a club. I’ve forgotten now what they called it and just what its aims were, but the club was a particularly severe advocate of nationalism. There was nothing wrong with this club, of course; it had plenty of support, including that of the school president, Kinoshita Hirotsugu. All of the members wore badges on their chests. I did not intend to wear any badges, but I was made a member nevertheless. Not being one of the club’s originators, I knew that many of my opinions were at odds with theirs, but I joined because I had no good reason not to. When it came time for the inaugural meeting in the big lecture hall, one of the students apparently decided that the occasion deserved a speech. I was, to be sure, a member of the club, but there was much in it that conflicted with my opinions, and I recall having strongly attacked its aims. But here, at the opening meeting, everything this fellow had to say was a rebuttal of what I had said! I had no idea if he was doing it on purpose or by coincidence, but in any case, I was going to have to answer him, and when he was through I stepped to the podium. I suppose I handled myself very badly, but at least I said what was on my mind. My remarks were quite simple, and they went something like this:
The Columbia Anthology of Modern Japanese Literature: From Restoration to Occupation, 1868-1945: vol. 1 (Modern Asian Literature Series) Page 50
