Why is scholarship necessary?

I spent my elementary, junior high, and high school years in the peaceful town where Sato Haruo wrote "The Melancholy of the Countryside." Though I'd long since lost touch with it, I couldn't stay put when I heard a classmate was speaking at an event. I retraced my nostalgic old school route and visited my alma mater.

Upon arrival, I was served cafeteria curry. I couldn't help but smile wryly at how hazy my memories were, making it impossible to compare it to the taste of old. Looking around, I spotted the two speakers—Professor Mie Oba of Kanagawa University and Professor Mari Yoshihara of the University of Hawaii (who previously appeared in this column)—neatly lined up, eating in silence. I was struck by how different they looked now—these two who were so boisterous in high school that I used to wonder, "When do these people ever shut up?" I invited another person to join us in the waiting room, and we reminisced, laughing heartily over trivial things.

That's the beauty of old friends – you can laugh heartily over the silliest things. As we got carried away, a staff member rushed over and scolded us, "Your voices are echoing all the way to the stage!" Even after more than thirty years, it seems we're still the ones getting lectured in this school building.

But as expected of Mr. Oba and Mr. Yoshihara. As soon as their discussion began on the theme "What it means to make scholarship one's profession," they were back in their element.

"For many people who don't make scholarship their profession, like us academics, learning is surely useful for engaging in proper 'criticism'."

"Scholarship is, first and foremost, learning. That means starting by accurately reading the other person's text. It might seem simple, but it's actually quite difficult. For example, much of what's called 'debate' online skips accurately grasping the other person's text and just asserts one's own opinion. Only after doing that properly can you finally begin to question—that is, the process of analyzing and evaluating meaning. Learn first, then question. That's why it's scholarship,"

said Mr. Yoshihara.

"When engaging in such 'criticism,' respect for the other party and a sense of composure are indispensable. In my impassioned youth, I myself may not have fully grasped this, but without respect and composure, criticism devolves into mere 'one-upmanship,'"

Mr. Oba responded.

Amidst the lively back-and-forth, stimulating topics unfolded one after another.

Left: Mie Oba, Professor, Kanagawa University / Right: Mari Yoshihara, Professor, University of Hawaii

Recently, colleagues and I have been engaging in what we call "creative dialogue," offering each other "constructive criticism" on our ideas. It's a loose organization open to anyone interested. This initiative stems from a core concern: for Dentsu Inc. to grow as an "idea company," we must move beyond vague feelings like "That's kinda cool!" and instead thoroughly examine what "ideas" truly are and how they can be useful.

One particularly challenging aspect is aligning our respective "concepts of ideas." According to Professor Yoshiwara, this involves the process of "accurately grasping the other person's text." Therefore, we incorporate insights from management studies as "one measure" and use them as a standard for our dialogue. The recently published dialogue between Professor Nonaka and Mr. Sasaki was conducted precisely for this purpose. We've come to realize that it's precisely because the business world is so fluid and unpredictable that we need "academic rigor" to build meaningful conversations.

Another challenge is that discussing "ideas" inevitably requires delving into the other person's subjective views and human nature. In Oba-san's words, lacking "respect" and "leeway" means our "creative dialogue" risks becoming a new, cruel form of one-upmanship.

This is genuinely difficult. Even when trying to offer "constructive criticism" about someone's work, I'm always agonizing over the right balance.

On the way home after the lecture, as we talked about this, another classmate muttered, "I think the key to whether you can maintain respect for others as you get older hinges on whether you have a master you can't help but look up to. In my case, just remembering the words of my English teacher, Mr. F, who passed away four years ago – 'Are you a good person???' – changes how I carry myself."

No matter how much time passes, my alma mater remains a great place to learn.

It's been a full two and a half years since the 170th article. I'll be resuming this series at a leisurely pace, and I'd be truly grateful if you'd stick with me.

Please, enjoy!