Forging Ties with the World’s Universities—
University of Havana

(From an essay series, “Forging Ties with the World’s Universities,” published in the July 1, 2007, issue of the Seikyo Shimbun, Soka Gakkai)

José Martí (1853–95), a champion of Cuban independence, declared: “The world will not come to us, which is why we must go to the world.”[1] How invigorating and inspiring is a life full of courage dedicated to opening the door to a new world and building bridges that connect people!

* * *

Perhaps it was due to the mystic workings of the universe that my lecture that day took place amid such a dramatic backdrop. On the evening of June 25, 1996, the great hall of the University of Havana was filled with many of Cuba’s leading thinkers. I was about to give a commemorative address in this grand edifice, its walls and ceiling decorated with magnificent murals. As thunder crashed and rain beat loudly on the roof, I began by saying:

“What marvelous thunder! It is the music of the heavens, the resounding drum, the resplendent symphony of the skies, congratulating the progress of humanity toward the victory of peace. And what wonderful rain! The skies are telling us that we must not allow ourselves to be defeated by trouble! We must advance courageously through the storm of adversity!”

The University of Havana has a proud tradition. Founded in 1728, it is one of Latin America’s most venerable universities. On this day, I became its first Japanese recipient of an honorary doctorate of letters. It was just a week before July 3, the anniversary of the day my mentor, second Soka Gakkai president Josei Toda, who had been imprisoned for his beliefs during World War II, was released (in 1945). I said therefore that I wished to dedicate this honor to him, and started to deliver my address entitled “Building a Great Spiritual Bridge to the New Century.” I emphasized that education is the key to fostering capable individuals, bringing people together, and building bridges to peace.

I was most gratified by the warm reception my words received.

* * *

In the 1990s, Cuba was being buffeted by daunting challenges. The Soviet Union, which had been a strong ally and supporter as a fellow socialist state, had collapsed in 1991. Cuba was facing its most severe crisis since the revolution of 1959. From February 1996, the U.S. economic blockade of Cuba was tightened, and tensions between the two nations rose to new heights.

I had been invited by the Cuban Ministry of Culture to visit the country some time earlier, but as concrete plans began to take shape, many people around me expressed their opposition. In spite of that, my mind was set. I was resolved to go to Cuba and serve as a bridge builder between our two countries.

Everything begins with meeting one person and forming a friendship with that person. No matter what political or economic differences people may have, they can understand each other on the levels of culture and education. This has been my consistent belief as a private individual committed to peace.

And so it was that on June 24, 1996, I arrived at José Martí International Airport in the Republic of Cuba.

* * *

“You look very good in a suit,” I said.

The Cuban president Fidel Castro, stooping his tall frame slightly with a somewhat bashful smile, said that he had worn a suit specially to welcome an advocate of peace. I had finished my address at the University of Havana, and it was 7:30 in the evening. President Castro greeted me at the Palace of the Revolution wearing a business suit—a rare occasion for him while in his homeland, where he was usually seen in military attire.

It is hard to know what someone is like before actually meeting that person. Judging others without meeting or speaking to them is allowing ourselves to be slaves to our preconceptions.

I spoke with President Castro about my belief that the future of Cuba and the world depends on education. The Cuban leader nodded deeply in agreement. He himself has repeatedly emphasized that only education can save humanity. In fact, one of the most dramatic reformations that took place under President Castro’s leadership was what could be described as an educational revolution.

Following the Cuban Revolution of 1959, over 200,000 volunteer teachers rallied to eliminate illiteracy from their country. They risked their lives to do so, for through their actions they made themselves targets of the antirevolutionary forces. The core of this grassroots literacy movement was comprised of university students and graduates.

Young people living in the cities went to the countryside, where during the day they helped by working in the fields and, in the evenings by lamplight, taught the farmers to read. The light of education shone for the first time in these farming villages. In this manner, a great bridge was built, bringing together urban and rural areas, young and old, and the entire nation.

* * *

“Please, let’s take a photograph,” urged a smiling Dr. Juan Vela Valdés, rector of the University of Havana, who had welcomed my wife and me (on June 25, 1996). A statue of a woman with outstretched arms stands before the main entrance to the university. We took a photograph there with Rector Valdés and my old friend Dr. Armando Hart Dávalos, the Cuban minister of culture.

The statue is a symbolic depiction of the Alma Mater—literally, “nourishing mother.” The spirit of the Alma Mater pulsing at the University of Havana is the profound humanism advocated by the revolutionary champion José Martí. He joined the struggle for independence as a youth of 16 and endured numerous trials for the rest of his life, including imprisonment and exile. A great hero who devoted his life to liberating the Cuban people from Spanish colonial rule, Martí was also a poet, a writer, and a journalist.

Martí’s inspiring words were displayed on one of the murals at the José Martí Memorial Museum, which I visited while in Havana: “Barricades of ideas are worth more than barricades of stone.”[2] Noble ideas are indestructible. During troubled times, they only grow more powerful, and when someone tries to strike them down, they shine all the more brilliantly.

Martí further declared: “There is something good in struggles: they fortify [us].”[3] And he said that the only true glory for a human being lies in serving others.[4]

* * *

In 1871, when the first struggle for Cuban independence was at its peak, more than 40 students of the University of Havana were arrested on the completely fabricated accusation that they had defiled the grave of a Spanish loyalist. Eight of the students were executed by firing squad. Martí was enraged. He composed a memorial poem for the students and also delivered a moving speech entitled “A New Pine.” In it he said: “I heard [the hymn of life] in the earth. . . . I saw on the golden grass, new pine shoots sprouting cheerfully around a black trunk of fallen pine trees. That is what we are—new pines!”[5]

* * *

The University of Havana stands atop a small hill. Before the splendid main entrance, in the style of a Greek temple, stretches a gently sloping stone stairway of more than 100 steps, from which many students have given speeches. These steps have served as a stage for rousing the revolutionary spirit, a platform for calling for the dismissal of corrupt teachers. They have been an open-air classroom where students engage in dialogue and a place to hold farewell gatherings. To me, these stone steps, which extend from a citadel dedicated to serving the public welfare, seemed like a bridge of victory leading to the future.

President Castro, a graduate of the University of Havana, said to me that capable people are the greatest wealth and most precious asset for a nation that lacks material resources.

Today, the University of Havana is engaged in exchange programs with more than 300 universities around the world. Soka University is one of those institutions, and every year students from the two schools enjoy meaningful educational and cultural experiences on each other’s campuses.

When asked the purpose of learning, a University of Havana exchange student studying at Soka University proudly replied: “To contribute to one’s country and the world!”

The founding ideals of a university are everlasting.

* * *

The following is the poem I wrote in the guest book at the José Martí Memorial Museum:

The great and good
meet troubles fierce as the harshest gale.
But on such a person, too,
a great sun of eternal glory, victory, and acclaim
shines with brilliant grandeur without fail,
always and without fail.

Looking back, the Soka Gakkai student division was founded under the leadership of Mr. Toda (in 1957) as the Gakkai was facing a storm of persecutions. Fifty years have passed since then. Today, an alliance of bright young minds dedicated to our Soka movement can be found around the world. Even at the University of Havana, such young people are making the most of their youth by devoting themselves to learning and living contributive lives. Every day, I pray deeply and strongly for the development of these immensely capable young leaders who will illuminate humanity in the 21st century.

Martí said to the effect: “We will not be victorious unless we have justice on our side, because a single individual armed with justice is stronger than a great multitude without it. We must win a moral victory.”[6]

[Link to Peacebuilder—Cultural Exchanges for Peace: Cuba]

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