A Man of Vision
(From an essay series by Daisaku Ikeda first published in the Philippine magazine Mirror, in 1998)On the evening of July 3, 1945, three people standing outside the forbidding gates of Toyotama Prison waited, their faces drawn with anxiety and expectation. In the dreary dusk of the deserted street, the high concrete prison wall loomed ominously.
A tall, slim man in his forties appeared from a small side gate. It was Josei Toda, a man destined to play an important role in the history of postwar Japan, but an unimpressive figure at that moment. He carried a large cloth-wrapped bundle. Though gaunt and emaciated, he was unbowed and behind thick glasses, his eyes were alert and penetrating. As he started to walk away, the three people waiting saw him and rushed forward, calling out excitedly.
As he walked home with his wife and family, Toda thought of the long ages in which peace and happiness had been the universal aspiration of mankind and how these hopes had always been dashed by war. In his heart he knew that war is always evil, no matter what its causes, since it inevitably brings destruction and misery.
Toda was now free. The death of his mentor, Tsunesaburo Makiguchi, imprisoned two years earlier at the same time as him, had profoundly shaken him, but he was not defeated. He knew that he had great work to do. His own imprisonment and the death of Makiguchi made him determined to fight, not against the military, but against the cruelty and oppression that had cost untold lives throughout Asia and brought Japan to the brink of total disaster.
In a nation without real philosophical or religious conviction, Toda stood out like a towering cliff. Here was someone who had kept his faith throughout his imprisonment for opposition to Japan’s wartime regime and whose religious convictions had been deepened by his experience in prison. Toda had been horrified by the willingness of the Japanese people during the war to blindly follow the whims of those in power. He felt that unless a fundamental change takes place within people’s hearts, unless people become empowered and wise enough to perceive the folly of war, history is apt to be repeated.
I still remember Toda’s ringing words about his vision of a new, hopeful world:
“We have to bring about a great revolution. This is not a revolution that will be accomplished through force of arms or power. We have to bring about a human revolution, a bloodless, peaceful revolution in which everyone wins and there are no victims. This is a true revolution.” What he called human revolution is the inner process of self-reformation that enables even the weakest and most vulnerable members of society to develop the strength to rebuild their lives and take control of their own destiny.
Toda saw the need for a new philosophy which would make human beings the master and ideology the slave, not the other way round.
Although Japan had become a democracy in name after the war, this democracy was a “gift” from the occupying forces, not something that had been fought for by the people themselves. Structural reforms alone are not enough to bring about lasting changes. It is after all the human being that will either create a world of peaceful coexistence or propagate the seeds of war and destruction. Unless reform comes from deep within, it is superficial and cannot be sustained.
This is why, after the end of war, Toda immediately set about his task of bringing hope and self empowerment to ordinary people suffering extremes of desperation and poverty.
His love for the people was based on his deep belief in their boundless potential.
His words naturally inspired and attracted the weakest and most downtrodden sector of Japanese society. Soka Gakkai, the organization he led, was often ridiculed as a gathering of the poor and the sick. And Toda was very proud of that.
Toda soon became the leader of the fastest growing religious movement in Japan. Often people labeled him as charismatic and a skilled organizer and his followers as weak and obedient. On the contrary, he was in some ways very ordinary, and completely approachable. People were attracted to Toda because of his broad flow of compassion and sincere care for their happiness, his wisdom that gave them courage and provided them with practical solutions to real, immediate problems.
As for myself, initially I had no interest in nor understanding of Buddhism, but I was attracted to Toda’s personal qualities--his warmth, courage and strength.
He despised elitism. He had a sharp wit and often let jokes fly. He had a big laugh and enjoyed drinking. But he never lost control or erred in his judgement. When an important issue was brought to his attention, he would pull himself up straight, giving rapid and clear directions. He had the ability to see through deception and especially hated empty flattery coming from young people.
He was a man of vision. He looked far beyond national borders and saw the unity of the human family. He was a rare visionary who called for the fostering of global citizens in the midst of the Cold War era. From him I inherited the vision of world citizenship that is at the core of our organization’s work for peace.
Profoundly regretting the sufferings imposed on other Asian nations by the Japanese during the war, he was determined to see the light of peace, the light of hope and happiness, shine on all the people of Asia. He was convinced that Japan could only be considered a nation of peace to the extent that it is truly trusted by its Asian neighbors.
What Toda strived to achieve was not necessarily appreciated by the people of his time. However, today his dreams and vision live on and have been put into practice by his followers in countries around the world. As for myself, there is no greater pride than to be able to walk in his footsteps and realize the vision of this truly great man.
