Forging Ties with the World’s Universities—
Visiting the University of Guadalajara and
the National Autonomous University of Mexico

(From an essay series, “Forging Ties with the World’s Universities,” published in the December 17, 2006, issue of the Seikyo Shimbun, Soka Gakkai)

The 15th-century Mexican poet Nezahualcóyotl wrote:

I love the song of the mockingbird,
bird of four hundred voices.
I love the color of the jadestone
and the lovely perfume of flowers.
But more than all I love my brother: man.

Birds have lovely songs, jewels have radiant colors, flowers have fragrant perfumes, and human beings possess a poetic spirit.

At 5:30 p.m. on March 5, 1981, surrounded by the murals of eminent Mexican painter José Clemente Orozco (1883–1949) that adorned the Main Auditorium of the University of Guadalajara, I gave a lecture entitled “The Mexican Poetic Spirit.” [1] The interpreter on the occasion was so tense that his throat went dry and he couldn’t speak properly. Without a second thought, I reached for the water that had been placed on the lectern before me and handed him a glass. He took a deep drink from it and his voice returned. University Rector Jorge Enrique Zambrano Villa smiled at this little drama and the atmosphere in the auditorium, filled with some 300 listeners, immediately relaxed.

During my lecture, I shared the following episode: In 1923, Mexican government forces and revolutionaries were engaged in armed hostilities, and waves of refugees were fleeing the fighting in Mexico to seek safe haven in the United States. The border guards were inspecting them for weapons, examining both men and women with a roughness and a thoroughness far greater than the circumstances warranted. Then a woman approached the guards, seeking to cross the border. She was wrapped in a heavy shawl, which seemed to be hiding something that bulged out suspiciously in the front. “Hey there!” shouted a customs man. “What have you got under your shawl?” The woman slowly opened the front of her shawl and answered placidly: “I don’t know, señor. It may be a girl, or it may be a boy.”

When the interpreter reached the end of this anecdote, the audience burst into laughter. Some of the students and faculty members even applauded with delight at the calm bravado of the woman in the story.

In my speech, I attributed this courage to laugh away one’s troubles in the direst circumstances, this cheery, positive spirit that the Mexican people retained even under harsh colonial rule and in the middle of a bloody revolution, to a vigorous poetic spirit. This spirit is not restricted to artists; a poetic spirit bright as the sun shines among ordinary people who, in spite of the bitter vicissitudes of history or their personal lives, live with unflagging tenacity and strength. The poetic spirit is the power of hope to rebuff despair, the power that fortifies and unites people, and the source for creating peace.

* * *

The 1980s were a turbulent decade the world over. There were armed conflicts in Western Asia and Latin America, and a dark sense of unease was widespread. When I arrived at the airport in Mexico, a reporter asked me what I thought of the never-ending hostilities taking place around the globe. “I am a Buddhist,” I responded. “Buddhism is a philosophy of peace. I am utterly and absolutely opposed to war.” With that decisive response, I voiced my resolve to work for cooperation and exchange in the realms of peace, culture, and education while in Mexico.

* * *

My visit to the city of Guadalajara in west-central Mexico was actually decided upon rather suddenly. A month earlier, I was in Los Angeles, listening to a pioneering Guadalajara women’s division member who had traveled all the way from Mexico to see me. “Sensei, please come to Guadalajara!” she implored. I had already received a very courteous invitation from one of the advisors of the president of Mexico, as well as requests to speak at the University of Guadalajara and several other campuses, and my schedule was being finalized.

“All right, I’ll go!” I said. “I’ll go to Guadalajara, and speak at the university there. Let’s make history.” When you respond sincerely to the sincerity of another, allowing yourself to be moved to action, you make history and create a new chapter in life’s epic. I have had dramatic, heart-to-heart meetings with our noble members in moments as brief as a stop for refueling at an airport. And I have innumerable memories of such brief yet profound encounters in Mexico.

My visit to Guadalajara also resulted in a blossoming of communication and a new ode of friendship. Luis Rionda Arreguín, director of the Center for Humanities Research at Mexico’s University of Guanajuato, attended my lecture on that occasion and, impressed by the ideals of Soka education, opened the door to educational exchange between his university and Soka University. Today, more than 180 students from the two universities have studied at their counterparts.

Later, Dr. Rionda nominated me for an honorary degree from the University of Guanajuato. Rector Santiago Hernández Ornelas examined my personal history and suggested that, instead of offering me an honorary doctorate, the university bestow the title of Maestro Emérito, or “master emeritus,” on me. In 1990, I became only the second individual in the university’s 270-year history to receive that honor—one that I humbly shared with my beloved Mexican members.

* * *

On March 2, a few days before my lecture at the University of Guadalajara, I visited the National Autonomous University of Mexico in Mexico City and met with Rector Octavio Rivero Serrano. I fondly recall talking with the students on the campus of that hallowed institution, which had been founded 430 years earlier (in 1551). Enquiring after their welfare, I encouraged them to throw themselves wholeheartedly into their studies. I was happy to see two young exchange students from Soka University among the group with whom I was conversing.

In the early years, Soka University did not have the active international exchange programs that exist today, and students in those days opened the way for their juniors by studying very hard to win Japanese government scholarships to study overseas. Now Soka University has exchange programs with 101 overseas universities. I will never forget the valiant efforts of the Soka students of those early pioneering years.

* * *

José Vasconcelos (1882–1959), a former rector of the National Autonomous University of Mexico and a leading figure in modern Mexican education, declared that he regarded the readiness of the Mexican people to face adversity as the hope of the nation. When he became his country’s education minister for the second time in 1921, Vasconcelos began a concerted effort to build schools throughout the land. While striving to improve the literacy rate in farming villages, he also promoted publishing activities in the cities to contribute to the widespread dissemination of knowledge. In addition, appreciating the educational potential of the great tradition of mural art, he made the walls of high schools, universities, theaters, and other public facilities available to mural artists, thus spreading the progressive ideals of the Mexican Revolution widely throughout society.

* * *

Some mural painters began to focus on the culture of Mexico’s most oppressed citizens and offer richly poetic and moving depictions of their history of glory and suffering. This led to a flowering of the unique culture of Mexico, which had long been suppressed, and represented a spiritual revolution that restored a sense of pride to the Mexican people. This effort to create a society in which those who have suffered the most enjoy the greatest happiness is in accord with the mission of Soka education, which is based on a philosophy of the dignity and equality of all life.

On university campuses throughout Mexico, artists, students, and citizens worked together joyously and courageously to create murals. I was able to view the fruits of some of their noble labors at both the University of Guadalajara and the National Autonomous University of Mexico. These universities, which supported both a revolution in education and a revolution in art, were not elitist centers of academic authority but a source of inspiration, awakening the people to their inherent worth and pride.

Vasconcelos called the Mexican people “la raza cósmica,” or global race, partaking of the best qualities of all peoples. I cannot help but be reminded of how, on another but parallel level, my mentor Josei Toda, the second president of the Soka Gakkai, articulated the ideal of global citizenship.

* * *

On the evening of the day I visited the National Autonomous University of Mexico, I was strolling through Mexico City with my wife when we happened upon a group of musicians wearing wide-brimmed sombreros and playing the song “Cielito Lindo.” Stepping onto a broad avenue, we saw to our left the Angel of Independence, a towering golden column surmounted by a winged Victory.

“This is the place!” I cried.

“Yes,” said my wife.

One morning a few days before he died, Mr. Toda said to me: “Daisaku, yesterday I dreamt I went to Mexico. They were all waiting.” The scene he went on to describe in some detail was the very one before our eyes. It seemed that he had led us to this spot.

* * *

Coincidentally, it was in that same year, 1981, that the World Academy of Arts and Culture conferred the title of poet laureate on me. Having been recognized as a poet fighting for truth and justice, that December while in Kyushu I composed the poem for the youth, titled “Youth, Scale the Mountain of Kosen-rufu of the 21st Century!” Some 25 years have passed since then.

Victor Hugo (1802–85), who also cherished high hopes for the future of Mexico, once wrote of the path of the poet:

Whether he is insulted or praised,
like the torch he wields
he illuminates what is to come! [2]

The poet sees the future within youth. He believes that the growth of young people will inevitably lead to the dawn of victory for the people. Universities, too, build a shining future for humanity as they see in youth the wings of hope that will soar into the new century.

In 2004, Rector General José Trinidad Padilla López of the University of Guadalajara arrived in Japan to present me with an honorary doctorate. We also had the opportunity to share our thoughts on education.

Higher education fosters new values and creates well-rounded individuals who make a positive contribution to their local community. If universities produce arrogant people, they have failed; universities exist to foster leaders who are dedicated to serving those who could not attend university. Dr. Padilla and I agreed profoundly and passionately on these essential points of the university’s mission.

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