IKEDA: I am honoured to be invited to the Brazilian Academy of Letters, one of the greatest intellectual centres in Latin America, and to meet a great a champion of human rights like you.
ATHAYDE: We have been looking forward to the chance to meet, at last, a person I have long wanted to get to know. You are a crucial figure in our century. If Japan and Brazil combine forces, nothing is impossible. As two individuals, let us join our own forces in the effort to alter the history of humanity.
IKEDA: As one of the formulators of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights, you are both a witness to a major event in world history and one of the most important people of our century.
ATHAYDE: When we started work on the Declaration, people laughed at us. Nobody believed us. They all said, ‘Declarations like this have already been tried time and time again, but they were never reflected.’
IKEDA: Noble, pioneering endeavors are too often greeted with scepticism and mocking. At just about the time you and your associates were undertaking that great task, my own mentor, and second president of Soka Gakkai, Josei Toda was propounding a doctrine of globalism transcending the boundaries of national state and ethnic group and stressing the solidarity of humanity and the welfare of the whole planet. His contemporaries discounted it as mere pipe dreams. Today, however, the brilliance of his far-sightedness is widely recognised.
Your efforts in connection with human rights, too, were far-sighted. And, especially now at the forty-fifth anniversary (1993) of the enactment of the Declaration, I am certain our discussion of the issue will uncover promising perspectives for the coming century, when human rights are certain to assume even wider and greater significance.
ATHAYDE: I am delighted to engage in such a discussion with you because you thoroughly understand the question of human rights.
IKEDA: You insist that human rights should be given precedence over political structures and national systems. In describing their fundamental nature, you have written that human rights represent supremely noble spiritual values that recognise the individuality of each human being. I agree and further insist that the dignity of the individual must be the starting point of all programmes of human rights.
ATHAYDE: Yes, it must. The heart of all discussions of human rights is the battle against discrimination. All human beings are equal. No discrimination is permissible. Absolutely none.
IKEDA: The text called the Theragata expresses the joy Shakyamuni’s disciples felt at having been fortunate enough to encounter the Buddhist Law. In it occurs this passage: ‘We are all precious children of the Buddha; none of us is unnecessary.’ As these words imply, as children of the Buddha, all people are equal, necessary, and possessed of irreplaceable dignity.
The writings of Nichiren (1222–82), founder of the Buddhism in which my co-religionists believe, reflect appreciation of the equality and dignity of all people as based on the dignity of the single individual: ‘Here a single individual has been used as an example, but the same things applies equally to all living beings.’1
ATHAYDE: You understand the Universal Declaration of Human Rights extremely well and translate your understanding into practical action more than anyone else. Your achievement surpasses that of the people who drew the declaration up. Of course ideas are important, but action is the true gauge of a human being.
IKEDA: You yourself are an impressive philosopher who puts his thoughts into action.
ATHAYDE: I have lived for almost a century. I was nearly thirty when you were born. My experience of the world has taught me many things. But, in all my years, I have never wanted to meet anyone as much as I have wanted to meet you. And nothing has ever made me as happy as having this wish fulfilled. You are possessed of all precious things, of all justice. You are a spiritual leader with great knowledge of people and human nature. Your actions have gradually enlarged the fate of the world. You are transforming the history of humanity through actions that give concrete and practical form to your philosophy.
IKEDA: Because your life has been conditioned by our tumultuous century, as a champion of humanity, you are a brilliant guide for humanity as we move toward the next century.
ATHAYDE: The twenty-first century is going to be a new age for Brazil, Japan, and the whole world.
IKEDA: Your own life has been a struggle in the name of that new age. I, too, have done what I could to help make it an age in which humanity can live happily.
ATHAYDE: Though only one Brazilian and one Japanese, we two represent the joint sentiments of our peoples. Both nations share one future, towards which we must walk, hand in hand.
IKEDA: Your inspiring words ring courageously of profound justice. They are part of your heritage to posterity.
ATHAYDE: In Latin, verbum means both word and god. Let us make use of the noble word as a weapon in our struggle.
IKEDA: Nichiren has said that ‘the voice carries out the work of the Buddha.’2 Our voices can demonstrate justice and encourage others to follow the right road. Elsewhere, Nichiren says, ‘Words echo the thoughts of the mind and find expression through voice.’3 Surely voices that echo the beliefs and ideals of our inner minds have power to transform our times.
IKEDA: I feel certain that all of our readers would be interested in hearing about your youth and family life.
ATHAYDE: I was born on 25 September 1898; in the city of Caruaru, in the state of Pernambuco, on the horn of Brazil, which projects into the Atlantic Ocean. My family moved there for the healthful effects of the clean air. I am now approaching ninety-five, and my existence has been a testimony to life in this developing country called Brazil. I hope that my children, too, will understand Brazil and contribute to her development, as the people of my generation have.
IKEDA: My mentor Josei Toda was born on 11 February 1900. If he were still alive, he would be almost your age. I cannot help seeing the same kind of images in your footsteps as in my mentor’s life. I have a profound feeling to be able to spend his birthday with you here in Rio de Janeiro.
You were born about a decade after Brazil became a federal republic.
ATHAYDE: Yes. I weighed six kilograms at birth. The midwife carried this startling information all over town, and people hurried to our house to look at me. My grandfather, an officer in the army and nearly two metres tall himself, is said to have picked me up by the leg and exclaimed about my size. If I’d been able to think at the time, I would probably have felt it was a great birthday.
When I was a year old, we moved to Fortaleza in the state of Ceará, where I lived in a tightly-knit, late-nineteenth-century patriarchal family until I left home to attend the Seminary of Prainha in Fortaleza.
IKEDA: What is your most enduring recollection from that part of your life?
ATHAYDE: I remember my father very well. He filled various posts as prosecutor and judge in our region. When he was thirty-one, he was transferred to Fortaleza to assume the duties of a high-court justice. He was also head librarian in our local public library. He was a man of an extremely high cultural level and spoke seven or eight languages. He took a deep interest in the education of his children. I remember learning about the Russo-Japanese war from him.
IKEDA: The Russo-Japanese War broke out in February 1904, when you were five. Your father’s explaining events occurring on the other side of the world reminds me of something I once heard from Mr. Frederic Warner, who was then British ambassador to Japan. He said he treated his children like individuals and explained complicated international affairs to them, even though they still could not understand them entirely. Exposing children to information in this way broadens their views of the world.
Childhood is not all happiness for anyone. I assume you, too, had your share of unhappiness.
ATHAYDE: Losing a loved one is a fearsome experience for very small children. My first grief was the loss of a brother who was only four. One day, at twilight, he was praying in front of our family chapel – in those days, Christian homes usually had a prayer room where candles were kept lit. My brother began playing with the candles. And, in no time, his clothing caught fire. He suffered dreadful burns on the lower half of his body and died twenty-four hours later.
IKEDA: That must have caused you immense sorrow. As you say, the loss of a loved one is a fearsome experience. Indeed, Buddhism c...