Pathway to Japanese Literature

Author: Kurata Hyakuzo

I. The Primacy of Ethical Inquiry

If there were someone insensitive to discerning truth from falsehood or beauty from ugliness, anyone would judge them to be an inferior human being.
To lack keen awareness of and interest in discerning good from evil and right from wrong is something one must feel even more ashamed of as a human being.
The way of humanity, the principle of heaven, the autonomy of the mind—nay, the very interest in and understanding of ethical matters that extend even to what anthropological ethics emphasizes as the “way of society” must be called the central theme of cultivation.
The attitude of viewing all life’s phenomena through the expansive lens of good and evil—this must be the core meaning that forms the very concept of what we call personality.
I could never feel respect for any person—no matter how outstanding their talents or achievements—who lacked passion in this attitude.
Whatever vocation one’s life might take—be it politics, science, business, or art—when their biography comes to be written, I wish it would be recorded in elementary school textbooks as Washington’s was: “He was a great and good man.”
Even someone like myself began youth’s awakening with the desire to become a “good person.”
“The most virtuous human must necessarily be the happiest,” I thought.
At that time I had not yet read Kant’s Second Critique, but what my soul desired proved none other than Kant’s postulate of the highest good.
How profoundly ethical cultivation lies rooted in our inherent nature becomes evident from this alone.
In that youthful period when one embarks on scholarship and cultivation, whether ethical demands flourish within them becomes a decisive factor determining the quality and stature of their lifelong character.
Those who resist and negate ethics remain preferable.
For they still dwell within ethics’ realm of concern.
Most unforgivable are amoralists devoid of ethical interest.
This signals inherent baseness in human constitution—the most detestable form of spiritual sickness in youth.
In healthy youth, sexual awakening coincides with ethical sense’s arousal, where love and justice fuse into one imperative demand.

Now，such ethical demands do not necessarily lead one to ethics as an academic discipline.
Even among ancient people who knew nothing of science；among China’s and Japan’s Hundred Schools whose teachings had not yet fully coalesced into academic form；and even within the practical wisdom of illiterate peasants and rustic hermits—there existed ethical concern，inquiry，and practice.
Yet for today’s youth of the intelligentsia，born into modernity and placed in scholarly circumstances，it was only natural their ethical demands should turn toward ethics as a rational discipline.
Even someone like myself numbered among those who underwent this process.

As stated above, in the study of ethics, ethical interest and passion regarding life’s phenomena must come first.
And the first step in its concrete study must commence with ethical questions.
Questions are the origin of all things.
Moreover, questions are even their own resolution.
As Heidegger states, “A question, as a question about something, contains ‘that which is being questioned’”—thus, within the question already lies the essence of the matter itself.
Undertaking the study of ethics without questions is meaningless.
Moreover, it is precisely questions that serve as the driving force making their investigation earnest.
The manner of questioning—how one asks—and the magnitude, depth, intensity, and meticulousness of that questioning will ultimately condition the corresponding qualities of its answers.
Therefore, before one has turned even a single page of an ethics text, ethical questions must already be lingering in the researcher’s heart.
And in truth, those very ethical questions must be nothing less than practical enigmas of living life that already torment, press upon, and confound the hearts of youth.

Only then would they discover, upon opening a book on ethics, that the very problems tormenting them were being addressed there—these issues examined through diverse perspectives in pursuit of resolution—and feel personally involved rather than detached observers. Even when solutions remained incomplete, theories diverged, and conclusions proved unsatisfying, the mere discovery that these urgent practical dilemmas of existence—so casually dismissed by common wisdom—were being earnestly investigated through incisive inquiry made them sense an intimate proximity to the subject. This visceral connection became the bedrock sustaining enduring devotion to ethics—a sympathetic engagement and unwavering commitment to its study.

II. The Gateway to Ethics

From Socrates—hailed as ethics’ progenitor—to the recent phenomenological ethics of Scheler, Hartmann, and their school, no morally significant issue in human inner life or social life has gone unaddressed in the pursuit of a unifying principle.
Yet for novices commencing their study of ethics through the aforementioned ethical questions, Theodor Lipps’ *The Fundamental Problems of Ethics* remained supremely suitable.
To be precise, this belonged to Neo-Kantian so-called formalist ethics developed alongside Cohen—a stance diverging from the fashionable “ethics of material values.” Nevertheless, through its profound interiority, vigorous rational will, and vital communion with lived experience, it skillfully engaged with ethics’ essentially crucial fundamental problems while offering solutions or at least intimations thereof.
This volume lacked the odorless sterility of so-called musty Confucian moralists deficient in life’s keen scent; yet without overindulging in artistic empathy or social trends—thereby preserving inner discipline’s solemn rigor (though the phenomenological school showed traces of such tendencies)—it tenaciously upheld volitional autonomy through formal-subjective means while stressing human actions’ objective validity, striving to liberate them from subjective constraints. Furthermore, its scholarly foundation undulated with sufficient artistic sensibility between its lines, never evoking parched moralists’ aridity.

I recommend that beginners use this book as an introduction to gain guidance on both the fundamental issues of ethics and the various approaches to resolving them.

This essay of mine is not intended for youths aspiring to become professional ethicists, but rather for the study of ethics as part of general human cultivation; however, even though human ethical questions and their solutions may appear diverse depending on the person, place, and time, they are inherently fixed and common.
First, gain an overview of it.
Along with that, one should read the history of ethics.
This is to observe how human ethical thought has developed and transitioned throughout all ages.
Later developments supplement the deficiencies of earlier ones; stimulated by transformations in human social life and advancements in general science, and further enriched by new materials, they have continued evolving.
However, it cannot be said that later developments surpass earlier ones in all respects.
In certain eras, particular aspects of human nature become neglected, only to be revived in later periods—a phenomenon far from rare.
And this revival never constitutes mere repetition of the original form but always emerges newly sublated at the present stage.
Tracing the development and transitions of human ethical thought over these two thousand five hundred years remains a profoundly fascinating endeavor.

In the history of ethics, there were works such as Friedrich Jodl’s *History of Ethics*, Henry Sidgwick’s *Outlines of the History of Ethics*, and Nicolai Hartmann’s *History of German Idealism*.
In Japanese works, there were Dr. Yoshida’s *History of Ethics* and Miura Tosaku’s *Studies on Recent Ethical Theories*, among others, but for detailed critiques of modern ethics—particularly the ethics of the phenomenological school—Takahashi Keishi’s *History of Western Ethics* would have been a sound choice.
However, since no system of ethics could exist without being built upon its proponent’s general philosophical foundations, it went without saying that the study of ethics had to accompany the study of philosophy and its history.
Yet I chose not to address that here.

When studying the fundamental problems of ethics and its history, we could not help but feel a sense of mystery toward human existence’s spiritual and rational structure while simultaneously being compelled to acknowledge constraints sharing their origin with humans in social communal life’s factual reality. At the same time, we were struck by human life’s instinctual impulses and the sheer force of inescapable demands posed by sensual elements as life-sustaining materials. The ultimate task of ethics lies in how to harmonize and integrate these three elements’ rightful demands as complete human beings.

III. Literature and Ethics

Many youths troubled by life's problems turned to literature seeking resolution.
Even when not expecting solutions, they went to novels and plays hoping to encounter vital struggles resonating with their own.
This was naturally to be expected.
For literature expresses life's concrete facts with full-bodied substance and aromatic vitality.
Here at least one found no desiccated conceptual arguments, no pedantic servile lectures, nothing resembling corpses severed from life's verdant fields.
Yet since literature by its nature must focus on concrete depictions of individual experiences, it could not aim to explore guiding principles for life as a whole.
Thus for those approaching literature with specific purposes, it remained alive yet circuitous.
It did not attempt to provide laws for action.
It depicted the acts themselves.
At times it became engrossed in peripheral trivialities without surfeit.
Those seeking to grasp life whole and pursue living principles should have turned to ethics.
This would have been misguided to seek in literature.
Of course ethics as a discipline necessarily mediated through concepts.
It could not be concrete like literature.
Yet anyone carefully reading an outstanding ethics work would have discovered how sincerely, passionately, and logically the author expressed its entirety, inevitably feeling admiration.
That experience proved no less moving than encountering literary masterpieces.
And its infectious power—becoming flesh and blood of personal cultivation, nourishment, even inspiration—equaled that of literary works.
Only literature had its conventions, ethics its particular conventions alone.
None could read Kant's moral philosophy without being struck by human reason's sublime autonomy.

Ethics seeks not only to provide guiding principles and laws for human conduct but also expresses the individuality of scholars.
If Cohen’s *The Ethics of Pure Will* and Guyau’s *The Ethics Without Obligation or Sanction* are compared, the contrast in their individuality appears as striking as differences between literary works’ distinctive voices.
Ultimately, ethics constitutes not dead conceptual carpentry but a living expression bearing the skeletal framework of human existence.
How many young students there must be—those who cannot endure this framework’s reinforced concrete structure, who instead chase decorative bricks and salon ornaments—who pass through literature’s gate yet bypass ethics’ entirely!
Yet truly accomplished literary figures invariably possess ethical cultivation.
To have literary refinement without ethical grounding as part of one’s human education marks a deficiency—evidence that one’s sense of good remains dull compared to their aesthetic sensibility, demonstrating both the inferior quality of their human constitution and their tendency toward decadence.
When aesthetic perception grows acute while moral concern remains blunted, such beauty inevitably degrades into mere sensory allure.
Consequently, we cannot imagine such individuals possessing literary taste of any elevated kind.
Readers of Lipps’s *Aesthetics* will find themselves halfway to realizing how thoroughly his aesthetic sensibility merges with his moral sense.
Yet through eyes seeking to comprehend life as an integrated whole, this fusion appears only natural.
Ruskin—author of *Modern Painters*—stood equally as an ardent apostle of goodness.
That both aesthetic and moral sensibilities remain vigorous, profound, and richly developed constitutes indispensable cultivation for becoming a first-rate human being.

Though I myself ultimately became a literary figure, during my academic years I had aspired to become an ethicist of the deepest caliber—a time when ethics was utterly neglected by intellectual youths—and I openly professed this ambition with pride.

This tendency among educated youths to dismiss ethics out of their devotion to literature must indeed be recognized as symptomatic of moral enfeeblement within their generation.

IV. Social Movements and Ethics

There were also those among the younger generation who dismissed ethics as circuitous abstractions, turning away from what they regarded as empty theorizing by those shut away in ivory towers and ignorant of real-world affairs.
Yet few street-level activists lacked ethical guiding principles or remained unmoved by them toward passion for social reform.
Indeed, driven by an insatiable need to rationally justify their own social reform ideologies, such figures had even taken to publishing ethical treatises themselves.
The anarchist Kropotkin authored *Ethics*, while even Kautsky during his Marxist activist period produced *Ethics and the Materialist Conception of History*.
It was well known that Lassalle—organizer of Germany’s proletarian party—wrote numerous ethical essays, just as Engels and Schmoeller authored significant works on socialist ethical thought.
Moreover, the utilitarian ethics of Mill, Sidgwick, and others inheriting the British empiricist tradition had almost universally sought to realize “the greatest happiness for the greatest number” as social ideal—systems that were invariably connected, whether closely or loosely, to social reform movements and exerted profound influence on actual British society.

Behind street-level practical movements there always lies a great thought.
And the thought that drives humanity to practical social movements is ethical thought.
The passion for the communist movement that swept through Japan’s youth and impelled them to sacrificial action existed because, despite the doctrine’s materialist determinism, it still contained humanitarian thought within.
Without an ethical foundation of overcoming social evils through justice, humans cannot be inspired to self-sacrificial service through mere material necessity.

Ethical thought is the driving force that moves society from within. And ethics, though containing within itself the potentiality for practice, does not directly activate it; instead, quietly, humbly, yet fiercely thoroughgoing, it seeks to achieve the unification of its thought and construct an impregnable foundation—within which lies a restrained will to act, enveloped like silent thunder.

To dismiss ethics as circuitous and mere armchair theorizing was nothing but shortsightedness fixated on immediate concerns.
Those who truly aspired to accomplish good deeds in society had first needed to restrain their impulses and study ethics before rashly joining activist movements.
For one could not act without knowing what constituted socially good deeds, and since the agent of action was oneself, one had necessarily been compelled to investigate the relationship between oneself and society.
Therefore, the study of ethics was not merely necessary; it was a discipline that—so long as one remained a sincere human being—one could not help but pursue to the fullest extent circumstances permitted.

V. The Locus of Fundamental Problems

It is impossible to enumerate all the fundamental problems of ethics within this limited space.
However, to concretely indicate where these problems lie, it is absolutely necessary to cite a few examples.

First, there exists the problem of distinguishing between moral philosophy and morality itself.
According to Lipps, morals constitute a category of moral views and demands that differ by time, place, and person; every nation, class, and individual possesses their own.
While such morals undoubtedly contain elements truly aligned with ethical principles, so long as humans remain human, they cannot avoid being intermixed with discordant components.
This occurs because—as per Hildebrandt's theory of moral value blindness—humanity's capacity to perceive true moral truth becomes obscured by arrogance, indolence, prejudice, lust, apathy, and deficient self-regard.
Ethics bears the task of overcoming this moral blindness to discover *Sittlichkeit*—the immutable moral truth itself—valid for all people, times, and places.

Whether such a universally valid moral truth existed was itself already a fundamental problem.
For example, ethics based on historical materialism would not have recognized any morality beyond that which was valid for specific relations of production or a particular class.
There were also ethics that had the task of comparing, analyzing, and describing various moral systems.
Indeed, the profound cause that had led us to pose ethical questions lay in the anxieties and perplexities arising from how morals differed according to time, place, and person.

To this, Lipps stated: To take an analogy from physical truth—if we interpret “truth itself” as inquiring into the essential nature of all things—current science could not provide definitive answers. But what constitutes the essence of truth itself? What are the universal criteria of truth? What conditions must we fulfill when seeking to discover truth? By what laws does truth’s recognition abide? If one interprets truth in this manner, answers become possible. In the case of *Sittlichkeit*, this equivalence holds strictly. To act correctly in specific circumstances—what should we do and refrain from? No complete answer could exist to such questions. For answering them would require complete understanding of situational factors and full prediction of all action’s consequences—knowledge no mortal human possesses. In this sense, morally absolute decisions proved impossible. But what is morality itself? What universal markers distinguish the moral? To such questions—concerning what conditions govern morality and what laws it follows—definitive answers could be given. Only through this clarity could we judge how far any particular decision aligned with morality. Ethics had as its task answering precisely these questions. It required no recognition of action’s diverse consequences independent of human consciousness. Nor did it demand insight into how human deeds complexly influence worldly fate. It required solely knowledge of the human mind—a matter of psychological fact rather than cosmic understanding. It remained confined to self-knowledge’s domain.

Such was the definition of ethics by Lipps, who inherited Kant’s subjectivism and formalism; yet this ethics had to remain confined to the form of human volition itself, answering only the “how” without addressing the “what.”
“Do such-and-such”
“could not command ‘Thou shalt not do such-and-such,’ but only ‘Act thus’”
“It could only command things like ‘Act in such a way.’”
For example, unlike Christ’s Sermon on the Mount—which declared “Love thy neighbor” or “Thou shalt not commit adultery”—they could not state such direct imperatives, but could only say things like “Act only according to maxims that could become universal laws” or “Maintain an attitude that remained true to yourself regarding your present stance.”
In other words, all of humanity’s active desires constituted the substance of morality, and moral laws did not praise or condemn these desires themselves but instead determined the universally valid relationships between them.
However, this act of determining our conduct purely formally—irrespective of the substance of life, that is, irrespective of these desires themselves—was in fact profoundly significant, for in my view, it was only through such determination that we could escape moral doubt.
When determining our actions, once we introduced judgments about the hierarchy of life’s substantive values, it inevitably fell into doubt.
If we introduced substantive value judgments—such as “killing was evil” and “giving alms was good”—into our ethical determinations, then endless questions would arise: Was joining a battle for one’s homeland evil? Was giving to a lazy liar good?
This was why Eastern Zen and Mahayana religions in general adopted the formal good rather than the substantive good when determining ethical actions.
When pursuing the thorough correctness of action determination, it became natural that one had to rely purely on the form of volition itself, as Kant did; in this sense, I could not help but resonate more with the Neo-Kantians Lipps and Cohen’s *Ethics of Pure Will* than with the phenomenological school’s Hartmann and Scheler’s *Ethics of Material Values*.

However, this was because we sought salvation through ethics from that ethical doubt inherent in action determination—an anguish so ineffable it could split one’s skull, so profound it drove Kropotkin’s brother to suicide—while from any other perspective, it went without saying that formalist ethics remained impoverished in addressing life’s reality.
Our irrepressible demand was also to pass moral judgment on the substantive content of *what* we willed—the good and evil inherent in volition itself—rather than *how* we willed it.
From this demand arose what had recently been termed the Ethics of Material Values—those seeking to revise Kantian ethics.
Max Scheler, author of *Formalism in Ethics and Non-Formal Ethics of Values*, had initially studied under Eucken but shifted to the phenomenological school’s position after coming under Husserl’s influence.

He states:
Values are true objects independent of subjectivity; as value phenomena, they differ from subjective emotional states and desires.
The deliciousness of various fruits differs in nature according to their type; it is not that the same deliciousness is perceived variably through subjective sensations.
It is a difference in the deliciousness itself.
"In the same way, 'pure' and 'cowardly'"
Ethical values such as “noble” and “sinful” also exist a priori as such.
They are not abstracted from goods but possess substantial existence.

Kant’s view—that realizing a subsequent value was in itself neither good nor evil—proved valid when values stood equal, yet material values inherently possessed hierarchy.
Thus there existed good and evil corresponding to the values themselves that served as volition’s objects.
Actions realizing higher values held greater moral worth.
Kant had conceived moral laws as purely formal while rejecting substantive elements because he deemed all substance a posteriori and only form a priori; yet material values were indeed a priori.
Transcendental ethics remained substantively viable.
Emotional sentiments like selective love and hate contained a priori content, sustaining what might be termed “an order of sentiments.”
Moral value apprehension occurred not through intellectual operations but via emotional intuition.
This constituted Scheler’s so-called emotional intuitionism.
Scheler further posited an a priori sense of hierarchy that intuited value ranks, maintaining that when determining which value—whether object of one volition or another—was good, this hierarchical sense enabled a priori intuition.
Nicolai Hartmann, inheriting and advancing Scheler’s thought, concurred regarding material values existing hierarchically and being intuited a priori through this sense.
Yet could such emotional intuitionism truly deliver us from doubt when determining actions?
That individuals differed in value rankings became evident even when examining Hartmann’s own paradigmatic tables of value hierarchies—tables revealing divergences from our own hierarchical perceptions.
Moreover, once acknowledging values’ dual dimensions of height and strength, choosing between high-but-weak versus low-but-strong values inevitably bred uncertainty.
Whether to enlighten masses, refine legal principles, donate to China’s famine relief, or purchase shoes for one’s child admitted no a priori resolution.
Ethical formalism—seeking to establish general dispositions for correct choices across all circumstances without weighing individual values—retained irrefutable grounding.
This orientation aligned with Mahayana religion.
Yet an insistent demand persisted to substantively assign moral worth to volition itself and privilege higher volition.
Human sentiment found this approach more congenial, resonating with Hinayana religion.
Refusing to hierarchize between sexual desire and loyalty unto death for one’s sovereign defied human sentiment.
Though Mahayana religion required such absolutism, ethics—being moral science rather than religion—must pursue humane conduct; thus Ethics of Material Values better served ethical humanity’s demands.

In any case, this problem of formalism versus material value ethics constitutes a fundamental issue in ethics.

Next came humanity's eternal dilemma: egoism versus altruism.
Egoism had a profound basis; when thinking rationally and honestly, anyone would initially arrive at egoism.
Rather, the true path lay in reversing course from this point and leaping to altruism.
Lipps’ theory of emotional empathy served as an excellent springboard for this transition.
When observing a facial expression manifest on another's face, humans instinctively tended to unknowingly replicate that same expression on themselves.
If it currently displayed sorrow, they themselves felt sorrow.
This constituted symbiosis with another's inner state—in other words, sympathy.
Altruism was founded upon this psychological fact of sympathy.
Once aware of another's desire—provided no circumstances hindered its fulfillment—people naturally found themselves compelled by this external desire as much as by their own.
Sympathy with others drove us toward altruistic acts.
The theory that altruism originated as egoism's calculated means—that it ultimately constituted enlightened self-interest—was thereby refuted.
Yet even if altruistic motives existed independently from egoism, the problem remained: when egoism and altruism conflicted, which should take precedence, and under what conditions should satisfaction occur?
This necessitated seeking "the path of harmonizing Greek and Christian principles," for the way of coexistence and mutual prosperity—fulfilling both others' destinies and one's own—inevitably bred practical contradictions, demanding standards for action selection in such cases.
When a fire at another's home clashed with taking one's own entrance exam, which should take priority? By what criterion should this be decided?
This form of choice confronted us throughout every aspect of actual living.
Not even intuitionism could resolve this.

According to Lipps，in such situations，one had to cast aside subjective constraints and adhere to objective factual constraints—that is，detach from the notion that taking the exam was one’s own affair while the fire was someone else’s—and decide by regarding both as matters of personal concern．In that case，they would prioritize extinguishing the fire．

However，this method of decision-making could not escape containing an element of unreasonableness that ran counter to human sentiment．Before one’s eyes，one’s own child’s hands were frostbitten．The newspaper had published an appeal for relief funds for the floods in China．Should the money for buying gloves have been sent to the newspaper？According to Lipps，one should have done so．However，one was faced with one’s own child before one’s eyes，while the other was merely heard about through rumors in a foreign land．Emotionally，the vivid love and motivating force were undoubtedly at work in the direction of buying gloves for the child．Even if one donated a paltry sum based on the relative importance of objective facts，the beneficial effect remained uncertain．On one hand，one could immediately see that the child’s pitiable fingers would be protected．Concerning choices such as those in this situation，the famous debate between Schiller and Kant arose．Schiller’s protest emerged：that one should act not from a consciousness of moral duty，but through the vivid movement of emotion—by what was called the “beautiful soul．”

However, once such subjective emotionalism was permitted, the moral solemnity required in practice could no longer be maintained. The weakness in practical execution among literary artists and their negligence in serving social good all stemmed from there. The problem of harmonizing egoism and altruism, rigorism and emotionalism also constituted a fundamental issue in ethics.

Next lay the problem of Personalism versus Eudaimonism.

The feelings toward objective value and those toward self-worth stood in opposition. Humans possessed a feeling of self-reverence. This consciousness of reverence existed on an entirely different dimension from material value and welfare. Ethics should take this sentiment of personal worth as its ultimate purpose. The value of things was nothing but the value they held solely as a means to this personal worth. Yet personal worth remained its own value. Elevating this personal worth formed the purpose of action. Pleasure, happiness, and welfare were not to be pursued as ends in themselves. This constituted the assertion of Personalism. Both the Kantian school—including Kant, Lipps, and Cohen—and the phenomenological school—including Husserl, Scheler, and Hartmann—stood identical in their adherence to Personalism. The theory of self-realization by Thomas Green of England also belonged to the lineage of Personalism succeeding Fichte. According to him, humanity’s purpose did not lie in pleasure based on the animal organism or in the satisfaction of desires. Humanity’s purpose lay in realizing the eternal self as the reenactment of divine consciousness. The purpose of improving society was not to provide the masses with physical pleasure or material satisfaction. It was for realizing each individual’s self.

Against such Personalism stands Eudaimonism—the ethics of utilitarianism in its broadest form, encompassing everything from the pursuit of personal pleasure to the enhancement of societal welfare. Its culmination lies in Sidgwick’s theory of “the greatest happiness for the greatest number.” Eudaimonism first arises from an individual’s sensations of pleasure and displeasure. According to Hartley, moral sentiments—along with other noble emotions—emerge through associative processes stemming from these sensations of pleasure and displeasure. He derived both sympathy and benevolence from egoistic feelings of pleasure and displeasure. Initially, people approved or disapproved of virtue and vice based on pleasant or unpleasant outcomes; through repeated associations over time, they came to directly approve or disapprove of virtue and vice itself. This constitutes moral sentiment. The enduring value of actions lies in producing pleasure untainted by displeasure—that is, happiness—with actions fostering societal happiness deemed good. Locke, Hume, and Mill all belong to this eudaimonist tradition. Whether egoistic or altruistic, individual or societal, they share the common ground of locating morality’s purpose in welfare. This represents precisely the sort of commonsense ethics likely to thrive in England. Yet eudaimonism fundamentally fails to account for moral consciousness’s depth and a priori nature. While capable of quantitative expansion, it remains qualitatively deficient—its measuring rod too short to sound the heart’s profound mysteries. Inevitably tied to consequentialism and opposed to motive-centered Personalism, eudaimonism cannot satisfy morality’s core requirement: that moral value must reside in motives rather than outcome-derived associations unworthy of being called morality. Furthermore, eudaimonism cannot explain feelings of reverence. Those with spiritual depth find it utterly inadequate. This is Anglo-Saxon ethics through and through. Nietzsche scorned “the greatest happiness for the greatest number” as the vulgar masses’ banner. Nevertheless, societal and political objectives undeniably continue operating under this standard. Various social policies, charitable works, public institutions, and reform movements are predominantly conducted in pursuit of this aim.

Though commonsensical, its power to influence actual society and realize its doctrine resembles that of Anglo-Saxon politics.
Yet we must not be dazzled by this.
Eudaimonism is by no means morality's ultimate end.
It remains of secondary value.
When inquiring what happiness is, one must recognize its quality—such qualitative aspects cannot be derived from happiness itself.
"The greatest happiness for the greatest number" constitutes what Nicolai Hartmann terms a "strong value," not a "high value."
Though serving as the prerequisite foundation required for realizing high values, it exists solely that high values may be actualized upon this groundwork.
High values themselves are ultimately humanity's qualitative worth—the value of personality.

It should be noted that recent anthropological ethics has developed a tendency aiming to qualitatively elevate and purify this Social Eudaimonism—on one hand by liberating Personalism's so-called "personality" concept from individualistic constraints and recasting it into social humanity, thereby seeking to sublate and harmonize Personalism and Social Eudaimonism in their essence.

That is to say: Personality constitutes the true meaning of being human—not an isolated individual, but a being existing within communal life's interconnections, one who stands in mutual opposition yet harmonious unity between "I" and "thou" and the whole.

The ethical reality—that such humans are not atomistic personalities later uniting through tacit agreements to form society, but rather communally integrated beings from inception, whose dwellings, clothing, food, language and customs thoroughly belong to collective life—manifests externally as enduring objective society.

Morality does not exist merely as subjective fact within individuals' inner hearts but expresses itself objectively through external communal forms.

Personality must embody such human meaning.

The human way is simultaneously the world's way.

To cultivate one's character is to better the world.

If we interpreted “personality” as meaning this communal human existence, then Personalism would be drawn from its self-righteous isolation into the public sphere, and social activities—liberated from anxieties about their inner decay—would come to bear a distinctly social character.
On one hand, the meaning of “the happiness of society and the public” had first and foremost to be not an agreement among atomistic individuals but a communal form of mutual interpenetration among “I,” “thou,” and the whole; and the meaning of “happiness” must not be derived from personal pleasure but be purified into something possessing qualitative spiritual elevation.
Thus, from the standpoint of true humanity, wasn’t the creation of a totalitarian human ethics precisely the historical perspective that should emerge?

Finally，as ethics’ deepest and most difficult fundamental problem，there exists the issue of “free will.”

“Free will” generally refers to the freedom to choose one’s actions.
It means that even though one could have refrained from performing an action by deciding not to do it，they nevertheless performed it.
However，upon reflection，this presents a perplexing paradox.
At the moment of decision-making，we select one motive from among various motives and set it as our goal.
However，at this very moment，we cannot pretend that these motives do not exist with their respective intensities.
Therefore，in reality，a single motive could not have been left unchosen.
It was impossible not to choose it.
According to Lipps，this is undoubtedly determinism.
If by “freedom” we mean that which is undetermined，then freedom does not exist for us.
The meaning of freedom is that such decisions are based entirely on oneself，not on causes external to the self.

The reason we think, “We could have made a different decision,” is that we know there existed other motives in our minds at the time that would have made such a decision possible.
Moreover, the reason we did not do so is that an even stronger motive determined our attitude.

In this case, it was meaningless to interpret the stronger motive’s determination as coercion.
For coercion to hold meaning requires opposition between coercer and coerced; yet here, the stronger motive was none other than one’s own volition—the notion of self coercing self became nonsense.
Freedom meant that volition was determined by personality.
Consequently, such personality received moral evaluation.

However, such evaluation was akin to appraising natural facts—like how Mount Asama spewing smoke was majestic or chirping insects were delicate—and thus merely an assessment of natural phenomena. Did it truly deserve to be called a moral evaluation that assigned responsibility?
That a certain personality made such decisions was a necessity inherent to that personality.
The fact that he stole meant his personality could not but do so; as Lipps stated, it was indeed possible to evaluate such a personality as deserving contempt, and while this evaluation certainly pertained to personality value assessment, it was identical to evaluating a thieving mouse—and just as he had lacked any motive to refrain from stealing, he should not have been blamed.
This became even more evident in cases involving deviants and mentally ill individuals.
A sexual deviant was indeed deserving of contempt.
And that indecent act was undoubtedly determined by his personality.
Yet could he bear moral evaluative responsibility?
To endure responsibility absolutely required circumstances where not doing so had been possible.
The notion that freedom existed because it was determined by personality proved incompatible with responsibility’s concept.
However, freedom meaning will-determination occurring without external or personal determination did not in fact exist.
Thus consciousness of freedom itself became an enigma.
As Lipps also maintained, indeterminism’s freedom rejected volitional compliance with causality’s law.
Yet causality’s law was an a priori mental principle—we could not think without obeying it.
Did non-deterministic freedom then constitute thought’s abandonment rather than thought itself?

Nicolai Hartmann touched on this point, citing Kant’s idea of “positive freedom” and acknowledging its merit.
Kant, considering both the external world and the internal world to be thoroughly governed by the law of causality, denied freedom from causal relations.
Freedom was regarded as the first cause entering into causal relations.
Freedom was called an absolutely spontaneous cause or capacity that initiates by itself a series of phenomena proceeding in accordance with natural laws.
In other words, it was not “freedom *from* something,” but rather a positive freedom characterized by an additional determinant.
The law of causality does not permit a reduction in determinants by one, but an increase by one presents no issue.
Then, where does such a determinant come from?
Kant sought its source within the intelligible character of humans.
However, if freedom is banished from the phenomenal world and relegated to the intelligible realm, it ultimately collapses into Kantian dualism in general, rendering meaningless the notion that we bear responsibility for acts of intelligible character transcending our consciousness.

Hartmann cites the self-determining awareness accompanying all actions and sentiments, the sense of responsibility, and the consciousness of guilt as evidence that such positive determinants exist within our consciousness; but it is precisely to rationalize these that he seeks to prove freedom.

Hartmann cannot prove freedom from these things; he merely states that proving unfreedom is even more difficult.

Ultimately, whether through determinism or indeterminism, we currently cannot find a satisfactory explanation for freedom.
This fundamental problem in ethics remains a mystery.
That we, with our supremely clear awareness, cannot rationally explain this unquestioned consciousness of freedom and sense of responsibility is indeed nothing less than a mystery inherent in the very structure of human nature.

VI. The Interplay of Various Viewpoints

The study of ethics as part of cultivation does not necessarily require resolution from a single standpoint.
It is also worthwhile to savor the diverse ways of thinking, feeling, and resolving that constitute human ethical perspectives by adopting each standpoint.
It broadens one’s perspective as a human being and enriches and refines moral sympathy.

The modern history of ethics also converged on Kant and diverged from him like its philosophical counterpart.
Opposing Kantian formal ethics stood not only material value ethics but vitalist schools like those of Guyau and Dilthey alongside socialist ethics spanning Feuerbach through Engels Marx Kautsky.
While space precludes full elaboration Guyau in his *Moral Theory Without Obligation or Sanction* championed life-preservation particularly nurturing individuality as selfhood's essence.
He held individuality itself bore supreme intrinsic value never reducible to instrumental means.
Individuality flourishes through enriched inner life—this surplus becoming obligation rather than compulsion or external necessity.
To cultivate individuality one must abandon narrow isolation embracing collaborative existence within societal solidarity.
Righteous chivalry stands paramount among virtues.
Kant declared “You must therefore you can” yet this formulation demands inversion.
“You can therefore you must.”
This notion of excessive duty—Kantian proposition inverted—shaped Nietzschean thought.
Zarathustra descended mountains swollen with wisdom power deeming self-abasement toward masses obligatory proclaiming “I will” where once stood “You must.”

Dilthey also emphasized the value of life and individuality. He expounded the activity of the "whole person" and posited that the facticity of "life" itself formed the basis for the certainty of knowledge. The validity of knowledge did not lie in Kant’s a priori barren intellectual concepts. Concrete, direct experience was the unceasing unfolding of "life." He said: "The vessels of the cognitive subject constructed by Locke, Hume, and Kant do not course with real crimson blood; instead, they merely flow with the diluted fluid of reason as intellectual activity." This crimson blood could only be drawn from the standpoint of the "whole person" who willed, felt, and represented. "Life directs itself toward value to fill its own emptiness and, through realizing this, enriches itself." This was our volitional act. As Leibniz said that no two leaves on the same tree were identical, individual things were each unique, allowing no analogous examples elsewhere. In natural science, since the aim was to seek laws, individuality was not an issue. If molten lead was dripped into water, various deformities were produced. However, each individual form held no value worthy of consideration in natural science. However, in the humanities, individual things were the most valuable. The deeds of Friedrich the Great and Goethe would continue to be studied as subjects of this discipline.

The ethical perspective of socialism was a form of social eudaimonism.
And in that it took economic conditions as the foundation of its happiness, it emphasized material welfare.
It was substantial, realistic, and social - which naturally meant there was inherent dissatisfaction with Kantian ethics' formalism, transcendentalism, and autonomism.

Feuerbach served as a bridge from Hegel to Engels; in mediating Hegel’s dialectic into materialist dialectic, he could be regarded as a precursor to scientific socialism.

According to him, “mutual cooperation among humans” constituted the first principle of truth’s universality.
Just as in cognition the existence of objects beyond oneself becomes mediated through certitude in others’ existence, morality too could not be drawn solely from the self but depended on others’ presence.
Only through confrontation between I and you did morals and *Sitte* come into being.
I had previously expounded upon this concept of communal life.
Morality remained inseparable from the principle of happiness under any circumstances.
For only when one brought happiness or unhappiness to others could good or evil exist in the actor.
Sympathy became impaired alongside others’ strivings for happiness—it was nothing but one’s own impulse for happiness that suffered in tandem.

He overturned Hegel’s view that concepts constitute true reality, instead regarding the natural world given to our senses as true reality.
Marx went further, positing consciousness as a reflection of nature and asserting that morality is merely a secondary element serving as the superstructure of economic relations.
Production relations develop through the necessary laws inherent within them and ultimately possess the power to produce a happy society.
The morality of bourgeois society applies only to that class; therefore, one must reject it and engage in class struggle.
Other social reforms and class-collaborationist paternalism only delay the arrival of an ideal society.
Engels worked with Marx for half a lifetime in devoted friendship for the sake of communist propaganda.
In *Dialectics and Nature*, he developed materialist dialectics; in *The Condition of the Working Class in England*, he analyzed the dire realities of workers under free competition.
Unlike Marx, Lassalle asserted that human moral will guided by ideals can guide historical development.
He called for replacing the ideal of the individualist *Rechtsstaat* with that of a *Kulturstaat* to be built upon the interests of social solidarity.
The cultural state must, through its regulatory power, make the people enjoy cultivation, power, and freedom that individuals could never attain in isolation. From such an ideal arises the moral obligation of the state toward the working class.
Even the working class has the duty to cooperate in this effort.
He argued that the wealthy class does not participate in the liberation of the working class due to personal interests and thus opposes this national moral cooperation.
This is the argument with which we resonate most strongly.
To reject, as Marx does, the participation of human moral effort in historical development by reducing it to the necessity of material forces is to scorn humanity—even if such rejection were to result in an ideal society.
More than the question of whether to use violence as a means of reform, the denigration of these human characteristics constitutes the most unforgivable blasphemy.
Human moral consciousness itself has merely been tarnished by Marx, not elevated in the slightest, and only continues to degenerate.
What purpose does it serve to reduce Feuerbach’s beautiful concept of the communal life of humanity—a vision that connects to mankind’s radiant hope—to a materialist interpretation?
The capitalist system is evil by its very nature.
In a moral sense, this must be condemned.
We ardently wish to construct the true human communal form—Feuerbach’s *Gemeinschaft des Menschen mit dem Menschen*.

However, we wish to achieve this not through material necessity but through humanity's cooperative moral efforts.
Because the communal form we create must also be sustained and advanced through moral collaboration.
For an ideal society of material welfare where human virtue's blossoms fail to flourish in full glory does not merit being called an ideal society.

In what precedes, within the allotted space, I have written what might serve as an introductory guide to ethics studies from a perspective meant to contribute to youth cultivation.
Much that ought to have been written remains unwritten.
I found no opportunity to address the ethical views of medieval mysticism, nor those of ancient Stoics and Epicureans, nor the metaphysical ethics of Spinoza and Schopenhauer.
Moreover, I could not begin to engage with Eastern ethical perspectives.
This stems from my desire—given this essay's purpose—to avoid mere cataloguing and instead construct a unified narrative centered upon living ethical questions.

Finally, it had to be added that ethical inquiry through life’s questions did not in fact find its conclusion within ethics itself.
It could not be resolved without venturing beyond good and evil—that is, into religious consciousness.
To be sure, as a discipline, ethics had as its task the pursuit of solutions within its own framework; yet by academic convention alone, this pursuit might well persist eternally as an unceasing expansion of understanding.
But life’s questions demanded resolution.
Thus one could not remain confined within academia.
One must enter instead into religion’s embrace—that which utterly discards even the words “good” and “evil.”
Yet such forgetting becomes possible only after one has clung fiercely to good and evil.
An intellectual youth who never devoted themselves to ethics—at least at some stage—would surely never attain that realm beyond good and evil.

(1936・10・7)