The New Human Revolution, vol. 18

By Daisaku Ikeda

Through this novelized history of the Soka Gakkai—one of the most dynamic, diverse, and empowering movements in the world today—readers will discover the organization's goals and achievements even as they find inspiring and practical Buddhist wisdom for living happily and compassionately in today's world. The book recounts the stories of ordinary individuals who faced tremendous odds in transforming their lives through the practice of Nichiren Buddhism and in bringing Buddhism's humanistic teachings to the world. This inspiring narrative provides readers with the principles with which they can positively transform their own lives for the better and realize enduring happiness for themselves and others.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Independent Publishers Group
• Release date: Dec 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781946635495

Book preview

Lion’s Roar

PEOPLE WHO have a defined starting point are strong. We must never forget our starting point. As long as we keep it foremost in mind, we will never lose sight of the path of our convictions.

On July 3, 1945, the iron gate of the prison groaned open and a man wearing a light cotton summer kimono and round spectacles emerged. His face was thin and haggard, but his eyes shone with firm determination. Outside, a woman clad in mompe (baggy female work pants gathered at the ankles) stood waiting. Seeing the man, her husband, she ran up to greet him. Such was the scene when Josei Toda, who had been incarcerated by Japan’s militarist authorities during World War II, was finally set free. It was a historic moment—the starting point of the rebirth of the Soka Gakkai.

On the afternoon of July 7, 1973, Shin’ichi Yamamoto gazed intently at the screen in the screening room of the Toho Studios in Setagaya Ward, Tokyo. It was a preview showing of the completed film version of his novel, The Human Revolution. Serialized in the Seikyo Shimbun under Shin’ichi’s pen name, Ho Goku, the novel told the story of Josei Toda’s life as he stood up alone to work for kosen-rufu with the aim of bringing peace and happiness to humanity.

Shin’ichi had estimated that the novel would extend to more than ten volumes, but at this point, the eighth volume had just finished serialization and was due to be published in book form on August 1. Realizing that a film version would make his mentor’s true greatness and wonderful achievements widely known, Shin’ichi was filled with excitement and deep emotion. At the same time, however, he was embarrassed that his humble work would be seen on the big screen.

The first inquiries about turning The Human Revolution into a film had reached Shin’ichi six or seven years earlier. Well-known Toho producer Tomoyuki Tanaka¹ had put out feelers about the possibility of doing so. Tanaka had produced legendary film director Akira Kurosawa’s² classic films Yojimbo (The bodyguard) and Akahige (Red beard), as well as Godzilla, King of the Monsters.

Having read the first two volumes of The Human Revolution, Tanaka was moved by its story of the mentor-disciple relationship in Buddhism. He was also impressed to learn that the Soka Gakkai upheld a progressive philosophy that was quite different from the established schools of Buddhism. It was a fresh discovery for him that revolutionized his views of religion.

TANAKA WAS deeply interested in the fact that the Soka Gakkai had attracted so many people, particularly youth, who were working together joyously and in harmonious unity based on a common faith. He found the explanation for this phenomenon in The Human Revolution. He also felt powerfully drawn to the Buddhist theory of life and Josei Toda’s philosophy.

Shin’ichi was well aware of the types of films Tanaka had produced, and he had a high opinion of his professional talents. Nevertheless, he felt hesitant about turning the novel into a film. He had written it to record the true meaning of his mentor’s life for future generations and to communicate the principles of Nichiren Buddhism through the history of the Soka Gakkai. So he was concerned that a film version of the novel might devolve into a merely commercial product divorced from those themes.

Shin’ichi first met Tomoyuki Tanaka at the World Expo in Osaka in August 1970. Tanaka, who was the general producer of the Mitsubishi Pavilion at the fair, guided Shin’ichi around the venue. After the tour, the two men sat down to talk in a guest room in the building. Shin’ichi spoke of his memories of the films Tanaka had produced, and Tanaka explained with great enthusiasm how moved he had been by The Human Revolution. Their conversation continued for some time, and before parting they agreed to meet again in Tokyo.

Their next encounter took place in November of that year at the Seikyo Shimbun Building in Shinanomachi, Tokyo, at which time Tanaka expressed his strong wish to make a film version of Shin’ichi’s novel. After contemplating the matter for about a week, Shin’ichi came to the conclusion that Tanaka would be able to convey the true spirit of the work. This decision was immediately relayed to Tanaka, who was overcome with emotion as he expressed his appreciation for the opportunity.

The first step toward a film treatment of The Human Revolution had been taken. Within the Soka Gakkai, a committee was established to oversee the project. It included Vice President Eisuke Akizuki, Public Relations director Hisaya Yamamichi, and others.

THE FIRST STEP in adapting The Human Revolution for film was choosing a screenwriter. Tomoyuki Tanaka thought of Shinobu Hashimoto, a winner of the Japanese film industry’s prestigious Blue Ribbon Award, who had worked on such renowned Kurosawa films as Rashomon, Ikiru (To live), The Seven Samurai , and Dodes’ka-den. Tanaka had worked with Hashimoto on numerous occasions and they were close. He also had great respect for Hashimoto’s ability to depict the inner realm of the human being.

But Hashimoto did not agree immediately. He said he wanted to study not only the novel but also the Soka Gakkai and Buddhism before making a decision. He threw himself into his research, starting by reading and rereading The Human Revolution and taking copious notes. He also collected a considerable amount of publications on the Soka Gakkai’s history and Buddhist doctrine and studied them carefully. In addition, he met and talked with Soka Gakkai members.

In mid-January of the following year, 1971, Hashimoto visited Tanaka at his home. He had given the project a great deal of thought. It’s going to be a challenge, he said. I’m still not sure what to build the film around. I’m concerned that if it’s a film that merely explains Buddhism, it will be too stilted and formal. Their conversation continued until two in the morning. About an hour later, Tanaka came down with a fever and felt a pain in his chest. An ambulance was called and he was taken to the hospital, where he was diagnosed with acute chest pain. He would have to be hospitalized for two months.

All the time he lay in his hospital bed, Tanaka continued to think about making the film of The Human Revolution. In early February, Hashimoto visited him in the hospital and said: I think I’ve found a way to do it. I’d like to use the film to explore the human spirit, with the purpose of teaching something to the people of contemporary Japan, shrouded as this country is in darkness. But I think it will take a rather long time to complete the screenplay.

Tanaka’s eyes lit up. So you’ll do it? Thank you! Hashimoto’s agreement gave Tanaka a tremendous boost of strength and energy.

IN ORDER to write the screenplay, Hashimoto needed to gather detailed information. For example, he required a clear picture of not only the exteriors but also the interior layouts of such locales as Toda’s private academy Jishu Gakkan ³ and his publishing company Nihon Shogakkan, which would later serve as the Soka Gakkai Headquarters building. Without them, he couldn’t convincingly set scenes of the movie there. Obtaining such information was an important key to writing the script.

The Soka Gakkai assigned the head of the public relations department, Takuzo Suzumoto, and his colleagues to the task of supporting Hashimoto. Suzumoto, a graduate of Tohoku University, was twenty-eight years old. At the beginning, working in public relations had been very challenging for him. He had contracted infantile tuberculosis in his first years of elementary school, and the drug used to treat it at the time had left him somewhat hard of hearing. A native of Sendai in Miyagi Prefecture, he also had a thick Tohoku accent.

About a year after becoming a Soka Gakkai Headquarters staff member, he was assigned to the public relations department. This was a great struggle for him. His hearing difficulty made him feel nervous and tense when he talked to people. In particular, he found speaking over the phone, when he couldn’t see the other person’s face, especially daunting. If the person spoke too quickly, he was unable to understand what was being said at all. There were times when his seniors, noticing what a hard time he was having, would step in and take over the phone call from him.

He continued to make mistakes day after day. He began to cringe with fear whenever the phone rang, and he wanted to go home to Sendai. Getting up and going to work in the morning filled him with dread. But as he tenaciously participated in Soka Gakkai activities, interacting with many seniors in faith and other members, he had a realization: Everyone has some kind of problem or difficulty to overcome. No one’s life is perfect. Amid their struggles, though, they strive with all their might and make earnest efforts to overcome their problems. That’s what life is about. Without effort, there is no growth. Isn’t one of the reasons I’m practicing this Buddhism so that I can challenge myself?

Chinese premier Zhou Enlai said to the effect that the more trying the circumstances we find ourselves in, the more use we can make of our strengths and train ourselves.⁴

TAKUZO SUZUMOTO’S challenge had begun. He took the initiative to meet people and made an effort to be the first to pick up the telephone, listening wholeheartedly to catch what the other person was saying. As six months and then a year passed, Suzumoto became more and more comfortable on the phone. In fact, his sincerity in really trying to listen to others made a very good impression on them.

When we acknowledge our limitations and shortcomings and start to make a concentrated effort to overcome them, they begin to shine as strong points. That is the power of faith.

Suzumoto was careful always to be sincere in his interactions. He had learned from Shin’ichi that public relations was an exchange between people’s hearts and that sincerity opened the door for such exchange to take place.

The young man worked hard to gather information for the film version of The Human Revolution. When screenwriter Shinobu Hashimoto requested materials about the Jishu Gakkan, Suzumoto visited the Seikyo Shimbun offices and all other relevant sites to look for photographs. And if he found anyone who had any connection with the academy, he interviewed that person. In this way, he was able to reconstruct the layout of the school for Hashimoto.

Suzumoto also visited the Soka Gakkai’s former headquarters in Nishi-Kanda, Tokyo. The building had been sold and become a noodle shop, but the basic structure remained unchanged. Given permission to look around inside, he was able to figure out what it looked like in the past. All the while, Shin’ichi was silently observing Suzumoto’s behind-the-scenes efforts.

In April 1971, Hashimoto began to write the script. At about this time, the Soka Gakkai film committee decided that the project would be a joint production of the Toho Eizo Company, of which Tomoyuki Tanaka was president, and Shinano Kikaku, the Soka Gakkai–affiliated media company that had produced numerous Soka Gakkai documentaries.

The first draft of the script was completed in late July, and the members of the Soka Gakkai film committee read and discussed it. They found that while the mentor-disciple spirit flowing through the Soka Gakkai was very ably depicted, there were numerous places where the film’s interpretation of Nichiren Daishonin’s teachings needed to be reconsidered. Hashimoto set about making his revisions, prepared to rewrite the entire script. He exerted himself tirelessly, contemplating every point as he strove to create a groundbreaking work that would present new values to society at large.

HASHIMOTO had undertaken the challenge of writing the script out of his wish to explore and uncover the human heart and thereby illuminate the darkness of contemporary society. In reading a selection of Shin’ichi’s speeches, he was powerfully struck by Shin’ichi’s idea of a path leading to the creation of a new civilization and a new culture through self-discipline and self-restraint. He was certain that the Buddhist principle of the Ten Worlds was key to achieving this goal.

The Ten Worlds is the teaching that all living beings possess ten life states, from the lowest—hell, hunger, and animality—to the highest—bodhisattvas and Buddhahood. By manifesting Buddhahood, all sufferings and desires, and even anger, can become forces for self-perfection. But Hashimoto was deeply puzzled about how to depict the Ten Worlds and especially how to understand and express the concept of Buddhahood. He met and spoke with leaders of the Soka Gakkai study department and also read numerous publications about Buddhist doctrine. Just as he suspected, progress on the script was very slow.

Furthermore, spending so much time seated at a desk exacerbated the writer’s chronic back problems. He wore a corset and struggled against the pain as he worked. He had been told that surgery would rectify the problem, but afterward he would require eighteen months of bed rest. He decided he couldn’t have the surgery until he had completed the script. Every day he wrote and endured the pain. As a result, the wonderful film The Human Revolution was born.

Italian Renaissance artist Leonardo da Vinci⁵ observed, Man merits praise or blame solely in consideration of what it is in his power to do or not to do.⁶

In February 1972, Shin’ichi invited Tanaka and Hashimoto to dine with him. He wanted to convey his profound gratitude for their dedication to the project. The revised script was completed in August. Including the initial research, it had taken one year and eight months to complete—more than twice as long as Hashimoto had ever spent on a script until then.

TOSHIO MASUDA had already been selected to direct the film . Now that the script was completed, it was time to consider casting.

On February 10, 1973, a press conference was held at the Toho Studios to announce the start of production. Tomoyuki Tanaka, the president of Toho Eizo Company and the film’s producer, announced his aim in making the film. He said: "I think that, as a society, we have reached a point where we can no longer talk about a spiritual mainstay for modern Japan without acknowledging the Soka Gakkai, which upholds the teachings of Buddhism. I have looked to the novel The Human Revolution to provide a clue in that regard. The book illustrates what people today are lacking. As such, I feel it is something that should be taken up by society and dramatized in film."

Sceenwriter Shinobu Hashimoto next clearly presented the film’s theme, saying: My motivation in taking on the project came directly from the Buddhist concept of the Ten Worlds elucidated in the novel, which I feel provides important insight into how human beings should live. I also believe that the crux of the story and its climax is the awakening of the protagonist Josei Toda regarding the true meaning of the Buddha and of life itself. With a smile, he said that he was confident he had written a good screenplay.

Director Masuda then commented: I think it’s very important for people today to reexamine Buddhism, which has had such a powerful influence on the lives of the Japanese people. If viewers come away from the film with a better understanding of the real spirit of Buddhism and the purpose of human existence, transcending all sectarian differences, I believe we will have succeeded.

The comments of each team member brimmed with enthusiasm to be taking on the challenge of capturing the momentous themes of Buddhism and human revolution on film. As the American thinker Ralph Waldo Emerson wrote, Nothing great was ever achieved without enthusiasm.⁷

The next day, February 11, was the seventy-third anniversary of Josei Toda’s birth. Page two of the Seikyo Shimbun carried a detailed story on the press conference under the headline, "Film Version of The Human Revolution!"

SOKA GAKKAI MEMBERS were surprised and delighted to learn from the Seikyo Shimbun that at last The Human Revolution featuring President Toda as the main character was going to be made into a movie for the general public. They were certain that through the film, many people would come to understand the truth about Presidents Makiguchi and Toda and gain a new awareness of the Soka Gakkai. Believing that The Human Revolution would make a powerful film, they couldn’t wait to see the final product, looking forward to it with high expectations.

Filming proceeded on schedule, taking place not only at the Toho Studios, but also on location on Sado Island, where Nichiren Daishonin had been exiled, as well as at Gotemba in Shizuoka Prefecture. In addition to Takuzo Suzumoto, the Soka Gakkai Headquarters Office of Public Information appointed another young staff member to assist with any problems that arose during filming. Together, they made an important contribution to the film.

For example, they taught the actors playing Josei Toda and other roles how to hold Buddhist prayer beads, how to join their hands in prayer, how to recite the sutra and chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo, and how to read the unfamiliar classical style of Nichiren Daishonin’s writings.

The actors had many questions. One asked how many Soka Gakkai members there were. When told that there were already a membership of more than 7.5 million households, another expressed surprise and inquired as to why the organization had grown so large. It was only natural that the actors would take an interest in the Soka Gakkai when they learned that it had such a great impact on the lives of so many. They continued to shower the public relations staff with questions. At times the set seemed like a discussion meeting.

At the invitation of producer Tomoyuki Tanaka, Shin’ichi visited an outdoor set that had been built in Edogawa Ward, Tokyo. This was on April 25, about two months after it was announced that the movie would be made. Shin’ichi wished to express his heartfelt appreciation to all the actors and staff.

THE FILM SET was located on an empty area of a grassy landfill located at the mouth of the old Edogawa River in Tokyo. When Shin’ichi arrived there, Toho president Tatsuro Matsuoka, producer Tomoyuki Tanaka, and director Toshio Masuda greeted him with warm smiles.

The set showed a burned-out Tokyo neighborhood, destroyed by wartime bombing. There were charred electricity poles and chimneys, heaps of rubble, and black smoke rising from the ruins. The scene to be shot that day was that of Josei Toda and his wife, Ikue, visiting the former site of Toda’s private school, the Jishu Gakkan.

Shin’ichi scanned the area; it was a huge set. The blackened house pillars, broken roof tiles, and lone scorched water pump were a perfect re-creation of war-ravaged Tokyo. Shin’ichi shared his thoughts with Tanaka: You’ve done a really good job. I feel as if I have gone back in time.

Thinking of how his mentor, Josei Toda, had risen up alone from these ashes, Shin’ichi wandered around the set, speaking to child actors and extras standing here and there. When he heard that one of the extras was eighty-four years old, he asked him about his family situation and then offered him encouragement, saying: Your sincere effort in being here is very moving. I am really touched. Please take care of your health and enjoy many more productive years!

A film is a cooperative endeavor. Supporting the movie stars illuminated on the big screen are numerous crew and staff members. Shin’ichi especially wished to offer words of thanks and appreciation to everyone working behind the scenes.

Tanaka then introduced Shin’ichi to the actors playing Josei Toda and his wife. Shin’ichi bowed deeply and said: Well, well, Mr. Toda! Good morning! Laughter echoed across the bleak set, putting the staff at ease.

I’d like to have a discussion with Mr. Toda now, Shin’ichi remarked, and sat down at a table in the corner of the set to talk with the two actors.

SHIN’ICHI SHARED his memories of his mentor with the actors playing the Soka Gakkai’s second president and his wife in the film, hoping his insight might be of some assistance. He said: "I became Mr. Toda’s disciple when I was nineteen. He was a great mathematician and educator, as well as a successful businessman running several companies. Mr. Toda deeply respected, admired and was devoted to the first Soka Gakkai president, Tsunesaburo Makiguchi, who himself was a geographer and an outstanding educator.

Even in prison, Mr. Toda fervently prayed that he would bear the brunt of all charges and that President Makiguchi would be released as soon as possible. As Shin’ichi spoke, other actors and members of the film crew gathered around to listen. He continued: "But President Makiguchi died in prison. What is more, Mr. Toda wasn’t told about his death until some fifty days later. Mr. Toda said that he never felt so angry nor cried so hard as when he learned of his mentor’s death.

After being released from prison, Mr. Toda emerged to a war-ravaged Tokyo that looked just like this set and, inheriting his mentor’s will, rose up to work for the peace and happiness of humanity. He set forth to single-handedly reestablish the Soka Gakkai, and in the last twelve years of his life built it into an organization 750,000 households strong. It was an indescribably challenging struggle. The vow he made amid the ruins of Tokyo was the starting point of the postwar Soka Gakkai.

The lead actor inquired, What was Mr. Toda like as a person?

Shin’ichi replied: He was broad minded and had a wonderful personality. He was always resolute and firm even in the toughest situations. He was also extremely thoughtful and considerate of others. He treated members with utmost compassion. On many occasions, I saw him weep over members’ problems. Shin’ichi’s eyes shone as he spoke of his mentor.

Whenever he talked about Toda, Shini’chi’s heart burned with passion. It was as if he were being illuminated by the sun of Toda’s presence.

NOW, ON JULY 7, five months after the project was announced, the completed film The Human Revolution was ready for viewing.

The film opened with Josei Toda standing amid the charred ruins of Tokyo that had been devastated by air raids. His private school, the Jishu Gakkan, had burned to the ground.

The first part of the film illustrates Toda’s wholehearted dedication to kosen-rufu and his attempts to rebuild his businesses and establish his educational publishing company.

Then the film flashes back to the past, looking at Toda’s life from his childhood through his release from prison. It shows him leaving his hometown in Hokkaido and traveling to Tokyo, where he meets his mentor in life, Tsunesaburo Makiguchi, and joins him in taking faith in Nichiren Buddhism. It also depicts the incredible efforts Toda put into realizing the publication of the first volume of Makiguchi’s The System of Value-Creating Education, which marked the birth of the Soka Kyoiku Gakkai (Value-Creating Education Society, the forerunner of the Soka Gakkai).

The film proceeds to show Japan going to war and how the militarist government, striving to make State Shinto the country’s spiritual pillar in order to unite the populace behind the war effort, trampled on the principle of freedom of religious belief. Fearing government persecution, the Nichiren Shoshu priesthood begins to press the Soka Gakkai to accept the government-required Shinto talisman.

But Makiguchi adamantly refuses, declaring that now is the time to remonstrate with the government. Rejecting the talisman, he remains true to the correct teaching of Buddhism and persists in his propagation efforts. As a result, he is arrested in Shimoda on the Izu Peninsula, and Toda, his disciple, is apprehended in Tokyo.

At the district court in Tokyo, Toda and Makiguchi have a chance encounter. This was a fictionalized scene that had not been included in the original novel. Shin’ichi’s eyes were glued to the screen.

Toda and a group of others are handcuffed and tied together in a row, their heads covered with woven straw baskets that hide their faces. Another similar file of prisoners passes them in the hallway. The prisoners are unable to see one another’s faces, but Toda can make out Makiguchi’s figure.

Sensei! he calls out, running up to him. Toda’s head cover falls off and Makiguchi stops in his tracks. Mr. Toda, he says.

A prison guard quickly restrains the younger man.

Sensei! Sensei! Toda cries again, refusing to move in spite of the guard’s order to do so. The guard then strikes Makiguchi, who stands watching Toda. Toda shouts: Sensei! Please take care of yourself!

Shin’ichi was deeply