From July 5 to 14, an exhibition titled “The Courage to Remember: The Holocaust 1939–1945, The Bravery of Anne Frank and Chiune Sugihara” was held at Soka University in Japan to mark the 75th anniversary of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. The exhibition was co-organized by the Simon Wiesenthal Center and Soka University, with the cooperation of the Soka Gakkai Peace Committee. At the opening, several guests gave congratulatory remarks, including Rabbi Abraham Cooper, associate dean and director of global social action for the Simon Wiesenthal Center. Following the event, Rabbi Cooper delivered a commemorative lecture on lessons learned from the Holocaust.
by Yuko Grover
New York
Not once since moving to New York in 1992 had I ever felt threatened by the city. But the pandemic changed that; there were days when New York appeared a hellish place to live. As waves of Asian hate crimes swept the city, I made sure to be outside only during the day, on populated streets, near shops where I was known and could duck into for safety. My husband’s psychotherapy clinic shut down; I lost my job; in the Zoom era, youth vanished from our district. Then there was my youngest daughter, Mina, who has struggled intensely with addiction since the age of 14. Eighteen when New York locked down, she’d begun using heavily again.
“Best she stay away from the city,” counselors advised, “away from where she has easy access to drugs.”
On this advice, we enrolled Mina in out-of-state rehabilitation programs. But twice she ran away, vanishing for weeks on end. The first news of her whereabouts and condition came as a medical bill—a charge for the treatment of an overdose. If the bills are to be believed, in 2021 alone she overdosed five times.
“I hate to say it,” said a counselor, “but I’d be surprised if Mina lives past 20.”
To be honest, there were days when I felt totally defeated. Of course, because I’ve practiced Buddhism my whole life, part of me understood I could make the impossible possible. But in Mina’s case, the experts cautioned against hope. Chanting, I often went over their carefully worded warnings: Mina’s was one of the toughest cases they’d seen. On such days, I turned to guidance from Ikeda Sensei that I keep on my altar,
If you have no hope, / create some.
If the world around you is dark, / be the sun that illuminates all. (Aug. 15, 2016, World Tribune, p. 3)
The shadow that had fallen over our home was deep. I could see its weight on the shoulders of my eldest, Emma, who had been Mina’s closest friend. My heart ached; I had no idea how to uplift either my family or my community. And yet this became my deepest prayer: Somehow, I would create hope for myself and others. Everything starts with hope.
The more I chanted and studied Sensei’s guidance, the more deeply I was struck by his care and hope for young people. Slowly, my prayer shifted. Less and less did I wonder frantically: Why are things not changing? Slowly it dawned on me: Mina has a mission that is hers alone. And if that’s so, she has the power to transform her life. I was the protagonist of my life and Mina, of hers.
Praying strongly to connect with Sensei’s heart gave rise to a determination—the determination to introduce one young person to the practice. With this vow as kindling, I sparked an ember of hope within. Many young people were struggling and seeking a philosophy of hope. I began to dialogue with as many youth as possible.
In the spring of 2021, I received a text from my niece who was attending New York University. She wanted to know how I was feeling in the wake of the most recent wave of Asian hate crimes. Tears came to my eyes as I read her thoughtful words. We got together for coffee and made it a regular thing. I introduced her to her young women’s leaders and watched them bond like sisters. She started coming out to our district meetings and would say of them after, “It feels like home.” Though living on campus, she was attending most of her classes virtually and felt isolated from her peers. Her friends, too, were struggling. As she began to speak with them about her own experience in the district, they began coming out themselves, one after another, and were embraced as family. The power of youth is incredible; the enthusiasm of youth is infectious! By summer, our district overflowed with the vitality of youth.
As I was connecting with these young women, Mina, too, was forming a connection that was affecting her profoundly. That same summer, she had a major relapse but responded differently than usual. She didn’t shrug it off but broke down in tears, asking “Why is this happening to me?” Actually, we both broke down. Something was shifting—it was clear she wanted badly to transform somehow. Someone else took note, too. Perhaps because she saw something of herself in Mina, the founder of Mina’s outpatient rehabilitation center offered to meet with her regularly, one-to-one, to mentor her in her recovery. With this woman’s unwavering support, Mina began to join our discussion meetings.
At first, she was as shy and uncertain as ever: Would she be able to relate to the other young women? Would they relate to her? But as they shared their struggles, they bonded. And from this new sisterhood, an old one revived—walking through the house, I started hearing bursts of laughter: Emma and Mina together. In September, Mina shared her own experience at a district meeting, saying: “I’m determined to continue fighting to stay sober. I want to practice gratitude for my family who stuck by my side, loving me throughout my worst.”
A recent issue of the World Tribune included this guidance from Sensei on prayer:
The sapling you planted today isn’t a mighty oak tomorrow. … Even if your prayer doesn’t produce concrete results immediately, your continual prayer will at some time manifest itself in a form greater than you had ever hoped. (Nov. 18, 2022, World Tribune, p. 6)
Throughout the pandemic, the seeds of Buddhahood we all planted as a district have slowly come to bloom. Since the end of 2021, we have welcomed six new youth members to our district family, which is now bursting with joyful energy. The youth support one another; and even those of us who are a little older, just being around them we feel like youth again.
My daughters, my district, my family—all are still struggling, still fighting, but we are winning together, moving forward together without fear, holding high the light of hope.
On June 28, the third BSG (Bharat Soka Gakkai) Women’s Symposium was held in New Delhi. Some 7,000 people attended the hybrid event that was titled “Transforming Lives: Women as Catalysts for Social Change.” Radhika Bharat Ram, joint vice chairperson of Shri Ram Schools, delivered the keynote speech in which she emphasized that when women are provided with education and support, they are able to transform not only their own lives but also their families and communities. The event featured a panel discussion, and the “Seeds of Hope & Action: Making the SDGs a Reality” exhibition, created by the Earth Charter International and the SGI (Soka Gakkai International), was displayed.
On June 21, two Norwegian peace scholars, Dr. Asle Toje and Professor Alexander Harang of International Peace and Understanding, visited the Soka Gakkai Headquarters in Tokyo, Japan. They met with Soka Gakkai President Minoru Harada and Vice President Hirotsugu Terasaki and discussed the role of the SGI (Soka Gakkai International) in raising awareness of issues around nuclear disarmament at this time of rising tensions and President Daisaku Ikeda’s call for No First Use. On June 23, the two scholars gave lectures at a peace forum hosted by Soka Gakkai youth members in Okinawa. The lecture marked the 78th anniversary of Okinawa Memorial Day, a day commemorating the lives lost during the Battle of Okinawa.
Living Buddhism: You’ve said you feel that you finally fused your mission as a Bodhisattva with your work as a lawyer. Tell us about it.
Harold Rubinfeld: Well, I’ll tell you what, I thought it would never happen. I began practicing law and Buddhism around the same time, in the mid-’70s, but for very different reasons, with very different outcomes.
Those my age will remember the ’70s as a time of crisis and reflection. Watergate and the disastrous consequences of the Vietnam War, to name a few, were on the mind of the country as a whole. I suspected then, as did many of my generation, that philosophy and spirituality held answers to fundamental issues facing humanity. “Chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo for a hundred days,” a young man I met at traffic school told me. “You’ll definitely experience something wonderful.”
A few weeks into the challenge, chanting in my apartment with the windows open, I felt a delightful sense of oneness with my environment. Outside the birds were chirping, people were talking and the trees were rustling in a breeze. I didn’t experience any of these phenomena as outside my life but within it—it was as though my life had expanded to encompass much that lay beyond the limits of my physical body.
Anyway, it was, for me, unforgettable. But the best was yet to come. On the 100th day of my chanting challenge, I was invited to attend a lecture at UCLA, to be given by Ikeda Sensei, visiting from Japan. During the lecture, he said:
The basis on which people choose to operate will determine the success or failure of civilization in the future. Will we elect to flounder in the mire of selfish desires and greed? Or will we walk safely on the firm ground of enlightenment, fully aware of the greater self? The realization of the dreams, well-being and happiness of all depends entirely on our willingness to concentrate on the immutable, unchanging, powerful reality that is the Law and the greater self. We have arrived at the point where this decision must be made. (A New Humanism, p. 143)
In a moment in history in which young people felt that their country was floundering, many at the lecture, me included, left convinced that Nichiren Buddhism was a force capable of deeply transforming American society.
Did you perceive law in these terms, too—as a force for change?
Harold: Law, I’m afraid to say, was another matter—I practiced it out of a sense of duty to my parents and conformity with my peers. In law, I found myself frequently litigating cases I didn’t believe I should win, paid to prevail over people I felt I should be helping. Many days, I felt my job promoted in me a dog-eat-dog mentality, the opposite of what was promoted in Buddhist practice.
What I discovered a knack and love for was mediation. Negotiation, collaboration are ways of resolving issues with others, in which all parties gain something and come away with a deeper understanding of the other person—this, I felt, was how conflicts should be solved. But as lawyers like to joke, the only people making any money in mediation are those who teach mediation. Many people don’t want to mediate, to find a solution in which all parties leave feeling they’ve gained something. There are those who prefer to go for the whole pot, who are willing to pay top-dollar to win at someone else’s expense.
By 2007, I had almost totally left behind any kind of civil litigation, instead concentrating my practice in uncontested bankruptcy cases as well as working as general counsel for a small corporation doing Law and Motion matters that were rarely contested. I wasn’t doing harm, and I was doing some good, but I could never shake the feeling that I wasn’t maximizing my potential. But it was a compromise I got comfortable with. I’m a father and a husband, with bills to pay and people who are counting on me. And of course, as time goes by, you get older. The idea of doing something new seemed to me less and less feasible.
What prompted you to seek out the work you do now?
Harold: In 2015, my corporate employer did a restructuring; under new leadership, the nature of my work changed dramatically, becoming more adversarial and for a cause I didn’t believe in. But what was I going to do? Given my age and finances, I couldn’t just leave—I mean, at 67, who would take me? But at work my stress was becoming acute. I developed strange symptoms—in my jaw, in particular—tension and tremors that sometimes made it rather difficult to speak.
At the New Year’s gongyo meeting in 2016, I was asked to give an impromptu determination. I stood up and began making a very general one, about resolving the conflicts ongoing at work, when suddenly, my jaw seized up in the strangest way, making speech nearly impossible.
In the coming months and years, the episodes would come and go. Whenever they arose, I’d be assailed by the same feelings of frustration and disorientation. I didn’t do anything to deserve this! I’d think. And then I’d think again, Well, but maybe I did—what about all the people I’ve spoken to so badly throughout my career?
What did you do?
Harold: At work, I had the great fortune to use appearance attorneys, attorneys who appeared in court in my stead. For my health, I pursued medical help, of course, doing an unbelievable amount of research to get to the bottom of it. Eventually, I received a diagnosis of oromandibular dystonia and pursued treatment from doctors and specialists at the top of the field. I distinctly remember one doctor’s appointment, at which I began describing my understanding of my illness only to be stopped by the doctor, who called in several of his colleagues before asking me to proceed. When I finished, he said, “You know, Harold, the thing is, you know more about this illness than all the doctors in this room combined.” Frankly, at the end of the day, the discussions that seemed to make the greatest difference were not the ones I had with doctors, but with ordinary people, about Buddhism. Sometimes my speech would become impaired and I’d need to make odd faces in order to enunciate my words, but far from putting people off, they were often encouraged by the effort I made. I was pushing through the physical limitations of my illness, yes, but on a deeper level, I was overcoming a ton of inner doubt.
Who’d want to hear this from me? Or, Maybe I deserve this. Or, Will I ever overcome this?
Chanting Nam-myoho-renge-kyo enabled me to overcome these doubts on a daily basis. And day-by-day, the struggle to share Buddhism through the disadvantage of a neurological disorder gave rise to greater courage. It also gave me greater compassion for those who are disadvantaged in some way, who struggle to be seen and heard by society. And with greater courage and compassion came a desire, long-held but dormant, to pursue work in which I could fully express my vow as a Bodhisattva of the Earth to work for the happiness of all people.
The work you’ve now been hired to do.
Harold: Yes. I remember coming across the job description, which combined the principles of mediation, negotiation, collaboration and advocacy, all with one overriding goal in mind: the health and welfare of the clients, children. It was an opening at the Children’s Law Center (CLC) to advocate for children in need of a voice in the dependency courts. At first, my own inner voice, said, What are you crazy? You’re near-on 75! But I shrugged off the doubt. Better to fail giving all that I’ve got than give up without trying. I submitted my résumé and within less than two hours, they’d reached out to schedule an interview.
But what about your problems with speech?
Harold: And what about my age? My energy levels? These questions and more surfaced time and again throughout the interview process. But at every juncture, it seemed to me the universe was holding up a bright green light: Do it!
In the past year or so my speech has dramatically improved—in fact by the time of my first interview with the CLC, my dystonia was in almost complete remission. Meeting with the other lawyers, I thought to myself, My gosh, it’s like these people chant! I told them right out of the gate, “I know there will be adversarial aspects to this work, but I’m at a point in life where I won’t compromise my ideals; as long as I am convinced that I am promoting the welfare and protection of the child I will spare no effort to fight for the happiness of my client.
“Of course!” they said. “We feel the same.” Actually, their mission statement stresses that the ultimate aim is the happiness of the child.
“Why do you want to work here?” they asked.
I told them, “I think your mission is very much my mission.”
Amazing! When do you start?
Harold: My 75th birthday, as a matter of fact—June 13. Whatever your age, you have a mission. For me, following that mission has set me on this path as a children’s attorney. I feel I’m doing what anyone with their health and a sense of mission ought to: create as much value as possible. If I didn’t, I’d feel I was missing the opportunity to use the power of this Buddhism to its fullest.
SGI-USA member Ken Lee, of Chateaugay, New York, is co-founder and co-CEO of Lotus Foods, a sustainable rice company that promotes human and environmental welfare. He and his wife, Caryl Levine, started the company in 1995 and have since been recognized for their efforts to mitigate climate change through regenerative rice production. Their company is credited with introducing black rice to the U.S. market under the name Forbidden Rice®. The World Tribune spoke to Ken about how his Buddhist practice has impacted his career.
World Tribune: Thank you, Ken, for speaking with us about your journey to start Lotus Foods. How did you begin practicing Buddhism?
Ken Lee: I was 29 when I joined the SGI. After graduating from college, I had bounced around a bunch of jobs.
While bartending to make money on the side and meet people, a co-worker introduced me to Buddhism. She said to me, “I chant Nam-myoho-renge-kyo, and if you chant, you can become happy as well.” I had just bought a new truck and owned a house that I was renting out. I thought these things constituted being happy.
She had so many challenges and obstacles. I thought, How can she be so positive amid so much negativity? So, I decided to try it.
WT: What happened from there?
Lee: From early on, I was inspired by Ikeda Sensei, especially his dialogues with leaders, captains of industry, philosophers and heads of state. The idea of achieving kosen-rufu by challenging my own human revolution sounded like something that I could dive into.
I supported Sensei’s movement behind the scenes when he gave his “soft power” lecture at the Harvard Kennedy School of Government [in September 1991]. I also participated in the gymnastics group and opened my home for district meetings. These were all faith experiences that stuck with me and propelled me forward, especially during difficult times.
The foundation of my practice is having Sensei as my mentor in life. He taught me the stand-alone spirit and to find my own unique path forward—to neither give up nor be discouraged.
WT: How did you discover your career path?
Lee: Things changed rapidly after I started my Buddhist practice. One day while bartending, I met Caryl (who would later become my wife), and we decided to start a business together.
We took a two-month market research trip, where we discovered black rice in the southwestern part of China. Long ago, it was offered to China’s emperors as a tribute to their longevity. It was nutritious and delicious and was not yet available in the U.S. We saw this as an opportunity. During that trip, while walking in the Forbidden City, I thought, Let’s name this rice “Forbidden Rice,” the exclusive grain of the emperors. Now Forbidden Rice® is one of our best sellers. Our company has grown tremendously over these 28 years, as we have expanded into a line of rice noodles.
WT: Your mission statement focuses on mitigating climate change, promoting farmer’s resilience and empowering women through rice-growing practices. Was sustainability a part of the business plan from the beginning?
Lee: At first, we were focused on preserving the biodiversity of rice.
We wanted to create markets for these heirloom rice varieties that offered more in the way of taste, texture, color and aroma, and that were nutrient dense. People were not familiar with these exotic grains, so we had to educate consumers. In doing so, we learned about the detrimental effects of chemical farming and decided to promote organic rice.
Then in 2005, we learned about a new way of growing rice called the System of Rice Intensification (SRI) through Cornell University. We market it as “More Crop Per Drop.” It’s a way to grow more rice with less water and seed. We felt it wasn’t enough just to grow rice organically without chemicals; we had to grow it regeneratively, building soil health, sequestering carbon and empowering farmers to go from being rice deficient to producing enough for themselves and to export to Lotus Foods.
WT: How does that differ from traditional methods?
Lee: The traditional way involves flooding rice fields, which is [a major] man-made reason for methane emissions, a main causal factor of global warming.
As a purpose-driven company, our mission now is to change how rice is grown around the world. By using 50% less water, younger seedlings, 90% less seed, a conical weeder and by not flooding the fields continuously, we reduce the drudgery of women’s labor. We drastically cut planet-warming methane gas and malarial disease vectors, all while increasing crop yields.
In Buddhism we talk about the interconnectedness of all things. Similarly, we see rice production as an ecosystem that impacts the health of people and the systems that sustain life on the planet. Cultivating that ecosystem includes prioritizing the livelihood of farmers, taking steps to make farming viable, providing a means for kids to attend school and reducing time in the field for farmers working outdoors amid record-high temperatures.
WT: How has your Buddhist practice helped you navigate challenges in your business?
Lee: We have faced many challenging moments with Lotus Foods that threatened the business’s very existence. The question is: How do you react when obstacles arise? I take challenges to the Gohonzon and chant that we resolve the issue in the best way. Daimoku is key—combined with courageous action!
I’m now the Burlington District men’s leader in Vermont. I’m chanting and working on the ground in my district to raise youth. At times, it is tremendously challenging, especially in a rural area that covers a large geography. My determination is to hone my leadership skills in business by improving as a leader in the SGI. We are working to grow our district so that one day we will have enough members to open a community center here.
WT: Last year you received a prestigious award. Can you tell us about it?
Lee: Caryl and I were both inducted into the Specialty Foods Hall of Fame for our pioneering work innovating the rice category with “better for you” products that are both delicious and nutritious.
Also in 2022, the Ellen MacArthur Foundation did a video on Lotus Foods to highlight our circular economy impact as it relates to regenerative agriculture. The video debuted at COP27 [the 27th Conference of the Parties to the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change] to inspire other companies to take action and be a part of this movement.
It is heartening to know that our work is being recognized. The Buddhist principle “many in body, one in mind” works for climate solutions also. Working together, we can become the change we seek.
WT: Do you have any advice for young people just getting started?
Lee: Inspired by Sensei, I once asked myself, What will my contribution be? By chanting sincere daimoku and taking courageous action, you can reveal your true self and the path forward that is uniquely yours. Challenge yourself and open up that pathway.
June 16, 2023, World Tribune, p. 10
by Sheiline McGraw
New York
Last year, a friend of mine recalled a smile I’d given her at a study meeting she’d attended in 2016.
I remembered exactly the smile she mentioned, because my baby niece Catherine had just died. Every action I took at that time, every movement I made, was with this intensely renewed determination to honor Catherine’s brief, brilliant life and transform the grief of her passing into the greatest joy for everyone around me.
In January 2016, after four years of trying for a third child, my sister had gotten pregnant. She, her husband and my two nephews (who are like sons to me), were overjoyed at the news. My sister carried Catherine for almost 36 weeks, nearly full term. But that August, she miscarried. Despite our shock and devastation, I knew deep down that this beautiful being had completed her mission in this existence. I returned immediately to words of Nichiren Daishonin that I’d ingrained in my life during my sister’s pregnancy:
Though one may point at the earth and miss it, though one might bind up the sky, though the tides might cease to ebb and flow and the sun rise in the west, it could never come about that the prayers of the practitioner of the Lotus Sutra would go unanswered. (“On Prayer,” The Writings of Nichiren Daishonin, vol. 1, p. 345)
If you ask people who know me, they will tell you I’ve always been very passionate about sharing Buddhism with others, especially young people. The reason is that I encountered it at 19, a time when I was my own worst enemy. Anorexic and bulimic, I coped with overwhelming anxiety by punishing myself for falling short of an ideal of the person I thought I should be. Imagine the world is beating up on me, and I’m beating up on me—how in the world am I going to win that fight? I had to unite with Sheiline, with myself, had to learn to be my own friend and ally. As I began practicing Buddhism and applying the encouragement of Ikeda Sensei, my mentor in life, I began to see myself anew—as someone deserving not punishment but happiness. I think all young people deserve this realization.
After Catherine died, I redoubled my efforts to share Buddhism, as my way of honoring her life.
“You’ve got such a positive energy.” This comment came twice in the two months following Catherine’s death, from two young women with whom I promptly shared Nam-myoho-renge-kyo. They each received the Gohonzon that fall.
In the meantime, my sister and her husband, too, redoubled their efforts. They hadn’t given up on having another child but began researching alternative methods. My sister had several of her embryos harvested and frozen and had begun searching for the right surrogate to bring the baby to term. However, weeks turned into months and months into years. I continued chanting for the total victory of my family. And slowly—almost imperceptibly—a farfetched, even fantastical idea was growing in me.
Of my sister’s embryos the doctors had harvested and frozen, just one had tested genetically normal. Realistically, she had one shot at making this work. I had just turned 50 and, on paper, was far from the ideal profile for a smooth, surefire pregnancy. But the “perfect person” was not forthcoming, and the more I chanted, the more I felt, I think I’m the one who can do this. In November 2018, while chanting, I concluded definitely that I could. I called my sister to tell her.
At first, she thought she’d misheard me, but when I’d made myself understood, she, too, began to feel my excitement.
Because of the trauma Catherine’s stillbirth had provoked, especially with my sister’s two sons, we agreed to keep this between us. We made one exception for my father, who was very ill in the hospital and not expected to live much longer. Overjoyed, my dad called out, as I left him the next day to fly back to New York City, “Sheiline! Sheiline! Vincerò! Vincerò!”
From Turandot, one of his favorite operas, “Vincerò” is a cry of victory by one of the main characters, on the eve of triumph. My father, on the eve of his passing, was declaring the victory of the life he’d lived and the one we were ushering into being. This, he was saying, would be our family motto in the next chapter of our lives: Vincerò! Victory!
Six weeks later, my father died peacefully with my sister and me by his side, to the alternating sounds of this exquisite aria and Nam-myoho-renge-kyo.
In January 2020, I began to prepare my body to accept the embryo. On April 13, at the height of the COVID-19 pandemic, I was in the clinic as doctors prepared this microscopic being. That morning, I chanted determined, all-out daimoku. Then they called and told me to come in for the transfer. Mystically, it had been exactly one year to the day since my father’s last day of life.
The pregnancy went smoothly. Each doctor’s visit, test result and ultrasound confirmed that the baby, who we were now calling Kevin, was healthy and growing. For the most part, no one knew about Kevin, not even my mother or my sister’s children. Chanting through moments of anxiety and loneliness, I envisioned the joy and healing this fortune baby would bring, especially to his brothers.
Though one may point at the earth and miss it, though one might bind up the sky, though the tides might cease to ebb and flow…
Every morning I returned to this passage and took it as my personal prayer. Victory, the Daishonin ever urges us, is assured.
Five weeks before the due date, I went to stay with my family in Montreal. On Dec. 29, 2020, Kevin Christopher McGraw-Marilley was born, a healthy fortune baby. Overjoyed, we shared our great victory with family and friends. I will never forget the incredulity quickly giving way to joy as Kevin’s brothers discovered their new baby brother.
I now travel frequently between New York City, where I perform, and Montreal, where I co-parent. Last May, I was asked to take on district women’s leadership. I thought, This is precisely the opportunity that will allow me to expand my life to best handle all of this! And besides, I’ve got all these benefits! I’ve got to share them with the members!
Gazing upon Kevin, who bears such a striking resemblance to my father, and seeing the joy and healing that he has brought with him into the world, I see the undeniable power of Nam-myoho-renge-kyo. I know with greater certainty that no matter how trying the times, there is always reason to smile, because the prayers of the practitioner of the Lotus Sutra will never go unanswered. In good times and bad, my heart cries out with my mentor: Nam-myoho-renge-kyo! Nam-myoho-renge-kyo! Or, as my father would say, Vincerò! Vincerò!
On June 11, SGI-Argentina (SGIAR) youth held a peace festival at the Movistar Arena in Buenos Aires. Over 10,000 people attended the event that featured various musical and dance performances including a performance by professional tango dancers. Youth leaders shared the determination of SGIAR youth to promote dialogue, take action against climate change, and work for peace and a nuclear-weapon-free world. President Daisaku Ikeda sent a message to the event. As part of “Acción Solidaria Soka,” an initiative led by SGIAR youth, donations of nonperishable food were collected at the entrance to the event and delivered to those in need.
From June 5 to 15, SGI (Soka Gakkai International) representatives participated in the 58th meeting (SB58) of the subsidiary bodies of the UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC) held in Bonn, Germany. On June 5, together with the Lutheran World Federation, the Brahma Kumaris World Spiritual University and the World Council of Churches, the SGI Office for UN Affairs co-organized a side event titled “Deliver climate action: Support a robust Global Stocktake from human rights and ethical perspectives.” The global stocktake is a process to assess progress on efforts to address climate change and represents a key opportunity for states to make a turning point for the protection of people and the planet. Prior to the meeting, the SGI cosponsored a submission with other civil society organizations calling for a fast, fair, full and funded phase-out of fossil fuels, strengthening the human rights perspective in climate action and protecting environmental defenders.
On June 5, to commemorate World Environment Day, the Earth Charter International (ECI) and the Soka Institute of the Amazon signed a partnership agreement at an event in Manaus, Brazil. An ECI delegation led by ECI Executive Director Mirian Vilela and a Soka Gakkai delegation from Japan led by President Minoru Harada attended the signing ceremony at the institute. Guests included Consul General of Japan in Manaus Masahiro Ogino. ECI conferred awards upon the SGI (Soka Gakkai International) in recognition of its long-term support of the ECI and on President Daisaku Ikeda for his contributions to peace and sustainability. The Soka Institute of the Amazon is the first private organization in the Amazon region to join ECI. The two organizations will cooperate in environmental education for youth development.