The Soka Gakkai recently launched “Transforming Human History,” a campaign to encourage engagement and inspire confidence that change is possible. It covers three areas that will determine the future for life on our planet: nuclear weapons abolition, education for all and climate action. These issues are the focus of Ikeda Sensei’s 2022 peace proposal.

The World Tribune covered nuclear weapons abolition in the Sept. 9 World Tribune, and will cover climate action in the near future. The following was adapted from sokaglobal.org, the Soka Gakkai’s international website.

Education is the most powerful weapon which you can use to change the world,” said Nelson Mandela. The world is in desperate need of change. Access to education changes lives. It leads to a reduction in poverty and violence, and increases equality and opportunity. It transforms communities and empowers us to move society in a positive direction. 

The United Nations has estimated that COVID-19 has wiped out 20 years’ of education gains. And around the world, education is under threat. Expanding access to education means securing the future of humanity on this planet.

---

BY THE NUMBERS

Source: www.sokaglobal.org/campaigns/transforming-human-history/

1 

If children in primary school have even one highly effective teacher, they are significantly more likely to go to college, have higher salaries, higher savings and are less likely to become teenage mothers. 

20% 

Increased levels of education reduce a country’s risk of armed conflict. Each additional year of schooling decreases the chance of a young person engaging in violence by 20%.

50%

The odds that a child born to a literate mother will live past the age of 5.

69 million

Globally, the number of additional teachers necessary to achieve Sustainable Development Goals for education by 2030. 

171 million

The number of people who could be lifted out of poverty if all students in low-income communities acquired basic reading skills.

1.6 billion

At its peak, COVID-19 caused 1.6 billion students around the world to be out of school.

---

Compassion and Care Are the Foundation of Everything

The World Tribune spoke with Ryan Hayashi, a K-12 math teacher and currently the SGI-USA Central Territory young men’s leader, about how Soka education has informed his teaching practices and philosophy. 

World Tribune: Ryan, thank you for speaking with us. How did you get into the education field? What fueled your passion?

Ryan Hayashi: Growing up, I never thought I would be a teacher. It was only through my experience as a student at Soka University of America (SUA) that I started to understand the transformative power of education. At SUA, I tapped into a power and potential within my life that I never knew existed. 

I learned more about Soka education through studying the educational pedagogy of Tsunesaburo Makiguchi and Josei Toda, and the writings of Ikeda Sensei. I realized that if education is done with the student at the center, it’s a powerful tool that can help us grow and develop as human beings. After graduation, I got accepted into the Teach for America program and was placed in an alternative school in Southern New Mexico, about 30 miles from the U.S.-Mexico border.

WT: Can you share about your first teaching experience?

Ryan: The border town’s public resources were scarce, and the schools had little funding for classroom technology and textbooks. The majority of the students were immigrants or children of immigrants, who were dealing with a lot. 

Those who attended this high school had previously been kicked out of one of the three high schools in the district. Whether it was due to poor grades, behavior, attendance, drugs or gang involvement, the students could not continue school in a conventional setting. This was their last chance to graduate from high school.

WT: It sounds like the odds were stacked against them.

Ryan: Many of their family members had never graduated from high school or gone to college, and they were on the same track.

At first, I really struggled as a teacher. Classroom management was tough. I taught in a traditional way—the way that I was taught math. But I soon realized it wasn’t working for my students. It was hard for them to connect with abstract math principles when they were dealing with many other things.  

So, I started trying different approaches. I began teaching math in a way that was relevant to their daily lives by connecting math principles to social justice issues, to their real-life experiences.

The greatest joy was seeing a student pass my math class they had failed previously. Some of them graduated from high school and some even went on to college. 

WT: What an incredible transformation. Where are you teaching now? How has COVID-19 affected your work?

Ryan: I have been teaching math at a high school in Arizona for the past several years. The pandemic was a huge hurdle. We taught virtually for several months. There were certain students who struggled with internet connection or the technology to attend classes online. 

I did my best to make a connection and try methods to keep the lessons engaging. However, students weren’t required to turn their cameras on, and many days I was teaching to blank screens and received responses only through the chat function. When we returned in person, there was definitely some learning loss, and some students were more behind than usual. When I asked them why, many students said they had too many distractions at home.

Additionally, students suffered from mental health issues because of the lack of connection during the period of isolation. When they came back, it was apparent that anxiety and depression were at an all-time high.  

As a teacher, I do my best to have an open line of communication and engage each student in dialogue. When I know that someone is struggling, I provide extra support and refer them to the necessary resources.

WT: What part of Soka education do you take with you to the classroom?

Ryan: Compassion and care—that is the foundation of everything. If you really do care about the students, you will support them and help them succeed. Teachers who genuinely care about their students can help them change their lives.

Furthermore, I believe in the mutual growth of teacher and student. As a teacher, I have to keep learning and growing myself. To teach math better, I have to learn about my students, their interests, their experiences, what is going on in their local community, so that I can build connections with them. The spirit of mutual growth allows me to reflect on myself, my attitude and my life condition every day. This is what I’ve learned from Ikeda Sensei. 

WT: What is your determination for the future?

Ryan: I am currently getting my doctorate in Value-Creating Education for Global Citizenship at DePaul University. My long-term goal is to help implement value-creating education and Daisaku Ikeda’s philosophy of human education, not just in my own classroom, but on a much larger scale, so that more young people can experience the kind of transformative education that I’ve benefited from.

by Brandon Poythress
Dallas

I pulled into the lot of the Dallas Buddhist Center a little after 7 a.m., next to a lone, empty-looking sedan. Tucking a change of clothes underarm—white shirt, black pants, red tie, the uniform of the Gajokai—I clambered out, knocked on the car’s driver side window and waited for my friend’s sleepy face to appear there. He’d been reclined in the seat, asleep, still in work clothes from the graveyard shift he’d got off from less than an hour before.

An hour from now, people would come to the center, and he’d be there, greeting them, keeping the center safe. Because of him, people could gather here, study Buddhism at ease and rejuvenate their lives.

“Your spirit, man…” I said, searching for the right words, “Your spirit is just awesome! You made it—thank you!” I handed over the clothes. “We keep making causes like this, and no doubt, something’s gonna give.”

This last bit I said for my sake as much as his; the two of us were in the same boat, more or less, stuck with jobs we weren’t happy with, striving in faith to summon the courage, wisdom and practical ability to land better ones. 

Just two weeks earlier, in March 2022, I’d been a data engineer, a position I’d worked hard to get, under a boss who challenged me to grow. While I was technically unqualified, this boss had nonetheless promoted me the year before. I’d earned his trust with my Gakkai spirit. Every project he threw my way, big or small, I responded: “Yes, I’ll do it!” Often, I wasn’t sure that I could, but the training I’d received supporting SGI activities had taught me to respond to every challenge with a resounding “Yes!” trusting myself and my comrades to come up with a solution. 

Unfortunately, the company ran aground. Now, I was back in an entry-level position. Coming home frustrated my first day, I’d written on the whiteboard beside my altar: DATA ENGINEER BY MID-JULY and the salary I wanted. To the right of this I’d written a column of names—the young men in my region whom I was supporting in faith. 

I’d set my sights on mid-July because it was when my region would commemorate the founding of the young men’s division. I prayed that, toward this meeting, each guy, including me, would be victorious. 

At my new job, however, there wasn’t a promotion opportunity in sight. As the days wore on, my apathy grew. 

One day, as I watched passively a co-worker set up a workstation, he stopped and said, “If you think this work is beneath you, Brandon, you probably shouldn’t work here anymore.” 

Shaken, I chanted that night, reflecting. Instinctively, I reached for Discussions on Youth and opened it to the section titled “Finding Happiness in Your Work.” In it, Ikeda Sensei urges youth to become first-class individuals at their jobs.

Renewing my determination, I regained the trust of my colleagues and in May was ranked No. 1 on the team. I kept my sights on mid-July, studying data engineering daily, determined to create opportunities. 

I really did need a better job. In June, an old debt’s deferral period ended, and the payments put me on a financial diet. Leaving my car at home, I bussed and biked in 100-degree weather, a three-hour round-trip commute. Home by 8 p.m., I was back on the road, in my car by 9. Finances what they were, I now drove exclusively to visit the young men in my region. 

Leaving my comrade, the night watchman, after a visit ahead of his night shift, I asked him how he was feeling. 

“Good,” he said, “hopeful.” His prayer was to get a regular 9-to-5 job that would support a steady daily Buddhist practice and free him to support more shifts at the center. By mid-June, he’d secured just such a job. He was leading by example. 

Even as my finances dwindled, I felt joyful, confident that the causes I was making would bear fruit. 

On July 7, less than a week before the young men’s meeting, they did. My former boss who’d promoted me called to ask if I was interested in a job to lead data analytics for his friend’s company. There must be a misunderstanding, I thought. Aloud, I said, “Yes!” 

His friend, the company’s CEO, later told me he was looking for an IT director to pioneer the company’s data infrastructure and asked if I could learn.

Why was I recommended for this—something I have no experience in? 

“Yes!” I said. 

He said he’d circle back after the weekend, the same weekend as the young men’s meeting, which was an absolute success. 

On Monday I went in for an interview, nerves trembling. The CEO reiterated all the skills I lacked and again asked if I could learn them. 

“Whatever it takes, I’ll learn.” This was the breakthrough victory I’d been fighting for.

On Friday, July 15, the CEO offered me the job at the exact salary I’d written on my whiteboard three months prior. Even better, many of the young men who fought toward July’s meeting had breakthroughs of their own. After supporting this month’s kosen-rufu gongyo meeting, this time in his own uniform, my comrade, the former night watchman, received a call from a company willing to pay him to learn software development. Like me, he lacked the experience required for the job. What he did have, and what impressed them, was the Gakkai spirit to welcome new challenges.

With deep appreciation to the SGI, which made me who I am today, I’ve increased my monthly Sustaining Contribution. My prayer is that many more SGI centers will be built as training grounds where youth can develop the conviction that when they strive in faith, they’ll win in life.

---

Instead of moaning that a job differs from what you’d like to be doing … become a first-class individual at that job. This will open the path leading to your next phase in life.

Ikeda Sensei, Discussions on Youth, p. 77

On October 13, former UN Under-Secretary-General Ambassador Anwarul K. Chowdhury met with Soka Gakkai Women’s Peace Committee members at the Soka Gakkai Headquarters in Tokyo. During a Q&A session, he emphasized the importance of fostering global citizenship to achieve the Sustainable Development Goals and thanked the Soka Gakkai Women’s Peace Committee for promoting the culture of peace over many years. Following the meeting, he also met with Soka Gakkai Senior Vice President Hiromasa Ikeda.

Between October 11 and 15, the Soka Institute of the Amazon participated in a book fair organized by the Social Service of Commerce Amazonas and held at the Vasco Vasques Convention Center in Manaus. The Institute displayed seeds of various Amazonian plants and saplings from its nursery and the “Seeds of Hope & Action: Making the SDGs a Reality” exhibition, a joint initiative between Earth Charter International and the SGI (Soka Gakkai International). On the last day, the institute distributed saplings to visitors. The exhibition attracted a total of over 4,000 visitors.  

On October 11, the SGI (Soka Gakkai International) cohosted a side event on humanitarian disarmament education at the UN Headquarters in New York. The side event was part of the 77th session of the UN General Assembly (UNGA77) First Committee on Disarmament and International Security. Permanent Representative of Kiribati Ambassador Teburoro Tito shared the devastating impact of nuclear tests held in his country, and Deputy Permanent Representative of Malaysia Azril Bin Abd Aziz stressed the importance of further promoting the TPNW. Other speakers included Anna Ikeda of the SGI Office for UN Affairs. On October 13, two joint statements, endorsed by the SGI among other groups, were delivered during the meeting of the First Committee. One focused on humanitarian disarmament, and the other on youth engagement and peace, disarmament and non-proliferation education.            

by Gene Marie O’Connell
Corte Madera, Calif.

Recently, a couple friends were reminiscing at the Florida Nature and Culture Center. Katie, whom I met in 1977 at our first nursing job in San Francisco, said of me back then: “I just didn’t get it, you know? I mean, Gene had two little kids she was raising on her own. The other nurses would tease about her too-big, secondhand uniform (she couldn’t afford a new one), and she’d just look at them and smile. That’s what I didn’t get, and that’s what intrigued me—her smile.”

I’d encountered Nam-myoho-renge-kyo three years prior, deeply depressed in the waiting room of San Francisco General Hospital. My son’s fever had brought us in. Having no car, I walked, carting him and his sister, ages 2 and 5, in a rickety old carriage, an obstinate thing that winded me wherever we went, for welfare checks or hospital checkups. Beside me, a young woman read a newspaper called the World Tribune that bore the word happiness in its heading. My son was fussing as I rocked him in the carriage, which joined in, squeaking. I’d left a bad marriage earlier that year and had just failed my nursing school entrance exams. 

Happiness.

I pointed to the paper. “Excuse me, what’s this?”

Since childhood, I’d suspected there was something more to life than life was letting on, and that I’d find it one day. Walking up the steps to my first SGI meeting, hearing the vibrant, galloping, hope-filled chanting within, I knew that day had come. I found a practice and a community that I would stick with for the rest of my life. 

“Challenge everything with the Gohonzon,” the women urged me. “There’s nothing you can’t do.” 

I summoned the courage to do just that. Three years later, I was a registered nurse, with a car and a job at University of California, San Francisco (UCSF). True, I was still on my own with the kids; true, the hours were long and hard, the patients difficult. True, the younger nurses laughed at my secondhand uniform. But I’d smile, bowing inwardly to their Buddha nature. I will reveal my full potential, and so can you! So just watch me! 

My leaders had communicated to me my potential so clearly, with such conviction, that it had upended the way I saw myself. I had a great mission to relieve suffering and impart joy. For the first time in my life, I’d begun to see my own worth. Soon, others began to see it, too. Doors were opened, and one after the other, I walked through them.

In 1984, I was asked to train a group of nurses at San Francisco General, the same place I’d encountered Buddhism. The mission of this public hospital—to help the underserved and marginalized—called to me deeply. When I was asked to stay, it felt right. I said yes. 

For the next 25 years, I worked there, taking on every challenge and treating everyone with the same sincere respect, be they patients, nurses, shop stewards or brain surgeons. One person after another recommended me to greater responsibility.

In 1997, after 13 years, I became CEO, the first woman and nurse to do so. I’d continue in that role for a record-breaking 12 years, saving the hospital from closure in my final year. The building was old, no longer up to code with earthquake safety standards, and we needed money to save what San Franciscans had begun to refer to as “the heart of the city.” I fought until the very last minute, as I’d learned in the SGI, and in the end, we won the largest public bond ever put on the California ballot. The following year, I retired. 

Of course, there’s no retirement in faith. I’d been asked to join the board of directors of SGI-USA in 2004, and continued on in that role. Later, in 2014, I was invited to lecture at the Soka University Faculty School of Nursing in Hachioji, Tokyo. As an alumnus of UCSF and a disciple of Ikeda Sensei, I helped create an exchange program between the two institutions, a program that continues to thrive. 

In 2017, I was invited onto Soka University of America’s board of directors; the university was ramping up its new Life Sciences program and believed I could offer insights. 

Even after I was diagnosed with cancer in 2018, I did not stop meeting with the Soka University students visiting from Japan. Despite my early-morning radiation treatments, those same mornings I was overjoyed to meet with, advise and encourage these youth, to run around town with them, helping them settle in. 

This battle, as with every preceding battle, laid the foundation for the most grueling one yet, when later that same year I was diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disease. The treatments almost made me nostalgic for radiation. I spent my days and nights in bed, fairly paralyzed with pain. Some days, the pain was such that I thought, as a plain fact: I’m on death’s door. 

In the midst of this, I received a memo from Sensei.

It was a passage from The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin: “The mighty sword of the Lotus Sutra must be wielded by one courageous in faith” (“Reply to Kyo’o,” vol. 1,
p. 412). At the bottom were Sensei’s words: “Continue in all your endeavors.” My mentor was asking me to fight. Flat on my back, paralyzed with pain, I felt fresh resolve course through me. As soon as my condition stabilized, in 2021, I swung back into action. 

This month, I spoke again, as I have each year since 2014, to the nursing students of Soka University. My central message remains unchanged. The only difference is, I say it now with greater conviction than ever: that they are all leaders of the future; that their lives have no limits; that they should smile, not because their lives are easy, but as a cause to win in all their endeavors.

---

What advice would you give the youth?

Gene Marie O’Connell: When a door opens, walk through it, even if you are shaking inside. You’ll likely feel unprepared. That’s only natural. Chant to summon the courage to walk through. Then you’ll say, “Gee, I had the courage to do that once, maybe I can do it again.” On the other side of every door, you’ll find greater and greater self confidence.

On October 2, Soka Gakkai Italy held an open day at its Ikeda Cultural Center for Peace in Milan to commemorate World Peace Day (October 2)—the day in 1960 President Daisaku Ikeda embarked on his first trip abroad to support the faith and Buddhist practice of members there and the international development of Nichiren Buddhism. The event included a presentation on the Soka Gakkai’s activities for peace, culture and education, and a musical performance. Around 1,000 people attended the event.  

by Nandini Choudhury
New York 

At SGI-USA’s New England Buddhist Center, listening to other young women share how Buddhism had helped them find love, I drew up a mental list of other, unspoken things she’d been helped by: By being more beautiful, sincere, more all-around amazing than me…

Of course, part of me believed what she said: that she had found someone truly great for her life because she had centered her life on something truly great, a Buddhist practice to bring happiness to herself and others. And yet, another part of me said that those who found love found it because they had something I fundamentally lacked. I might score other victories with my Buddhist practice—but a great relationship? Experience from childhood taught me to expect things to fall apart.

I was six in 1997, when my parents separated. My mother and I moved out of my childhood home in Pune, India, to live with her parents in Delhi. The separation turned our lives upside-down. Soon my mother began practicing Nichiren Buddhism with the SGI. Desperate for things to return to what they’d been, I chanted for my parents to get back together.

As I grew older, I found in Ikeda Sensei’s guidance clear answers to my questions. In particular the question Why did this happen to me? I learned that, from the Buddhist perspective, precisely because I had experienced suffering at a young age, I had a mission to become happy and help others do the same. I also learned that happiness is something generated from within my own life. Demonstrating this, my mother worked for the happiness of others, developing the inner strength to appreciate and overcome hardship. As she did so, she supported the SGI financially, expanding her life by expressing her gratitude. 

Inheriting her spirit, I strove to live by Sensei’s guidance, experiencing things that should have been impossible. For instance, in 2008, at age 17, I moved from India to Southern California to attend the university of my dreams, Soka University of America. In 2014, I moved to Boston to pursue my master’s in public health. What’s more, I developed a great relationship with my father. Despite these victories, however, romance eluded me.

In Boston, I took part for the first time in sustaining contributions to the SGI—my way of expressing appreciation to the practice that had taught me to how to challenge my deepest fears head-on. Each year that followed, I challenged myself to up the amount, seeing each contribution as an extension of my daily practice, as a cause to refute the false but deep-rooted belief that I’d never be in a happy relationship. Inducted into Byakuren in 2015, an SGI-USA training group for young women, I made many friends and was astonished to find how many of them were challenging the same insecurities. A few years later, determined to uproot this fear from my life and the lives of other young women, I accepted vice-zone leadership, working all-out to support the Lions of Justice Festival, a gathering of 50,000 youth, to take place in September 2018. 

Previously, I considered feeling “not good enough” for a relationship a rather shallow thing to seek about. But the young women of Boston changed my mind; they sought guidance for all kinds of problems. When I opened up to a senior in faith, she looked me in the eye. 

“Nandini, if your core belief is that you’re not good enough, you’ll interpret all your relationships, not just the romantic ones, through this lens. It’s so important that you tackle this.”

“How?” 

“Whenever you begin to disparage yourself, ask: Is this what Sensei thinks of me? It’s time to close the gap between how Sensei views you and how you view yourself.” 

As I traveled across the zone, meeting one young woman after another, I shared with each of them the spirit of these words from Sensei: “Each of you is the most precious treasure of all” (The Vow of the Ikeda Kayo-kai, p. 20). Eventually, Sensei’s words sank into my own life. One day, riding the Amtrak to support an SGI activity in Rhode Island, I looked up from my copy of The Vow of the Ikeda Kayo-kai. The heavy feeling I’d had for so long was gone. Instead, I felt this palpable joy. 

I really get to be here, with these young women fighting alongside Sensei. No way am I doomed for a broken relationship. No way am I gonna lose! 

The festival itself was a blur—intense in a great way. When it was over, I looked around and saw my women’s leader: “Where’s my partner?” 

She laughed. “It’s not magic, Nandini! He’s not going to open the doors of the Buddhist center the day after the festival. Have confidence in the causes you made. He’ll show up.”

In February 2019, he did. Actually, he was someone I’d had a crush on for some time. When I was asked to support an SGI event behind the scenes, I discovered he was supporting too.

Anxious, I confided in my young women’s leader. 

“Just try to enjoy being yourself,” she suggested.

The idea was simple, yet profound. Focused on doing my best to support the event, I experienced the same joy I’d felt on the Amtrak. The thought actually occurred to me: This person is really fortunate to get to spend so much time with me. No fear. No worry. Just comfort in my own skin. 

Long story short, we connected. In August 2020, we moved in together in New York. Earlier last year, we married in a small, beautiful ceremony. 

Starting a life together has not been easy—of course, we did so in the midst of a global pandemic. When things were most uncertain, however, we significantly increased our sustaining contribution to the SGI. We made this cause in the spirit of deeply appreciating all obstacles, confident that we, as disciples of Sensei, would turn hardship into benefit. Soon after, my husband had several major breakthroughs at work.

Having transformed my view of myself, I experienced a shift in my sense of mission. With my wonderful partner cheering me on, I took a leap of faith and pursued a Ph.D. in population health, to help underserved communities. 

I still struggle at times to see myself as my mentor sees me, but day by day I’m closing the gap. By basing my life on something great—on Sensei’s heart—I’m confident that my partner and I will build a strong, happy, harmonious family.

---

Even the most outstanding or talented individual cannot display their full potential if they are ruled by fear. … Should fear creep into your hearts, dispel it with daimoku. 

from Ikeda Sensei  (June 18, 2021, World Tribune, p. 3)

On October 1, the Mahatma Award for Social Good and Impact was conferred upon Bharat Soka Gakkai (BSG) in recognition of BSG’s contributions to peace, culture and education. Other recipients of the Mahatma Award were also present at the award ceremony. The ceremony was held at the India International Centre in New Delhi and was attended by the founder of the Mahatma Award, Shri Amit Sachdeva; the president of Harijan Sevak Sangh, Prof. Sankar Kumar Sanyal; and the joint vice chairperson of The Shri Ram Schools, Radhika Bharat Ram.  

On October 1, a new Taiwan Soka Association (TSA) center opened in Kaohsiung City. The six-story building houses an auditorium, conference room and the Soka Art Museum. President Daisaku Ikeda sent a congratulatory message to the opening ceremony. On October 2, the opening ceremony of the Soka Art Museum was held. The event was attended by over 100 guests including President of the Control Yuan Chen Chu and Director of the National Palace Museum Wu Mi-cha.