As you remember, in front of Professor Hatori?then President of LET (The Japan Association for Language Teaching)?or Professor Koike?then President of JACET (The Japan Association of College English Teachers), both distinguished professors from leading universities in Tokyo?Fawn Whittaker introduced him with great respect, saying, "He is a big man in Japan."
At that gathering were Professor Masakazu Karita of Himeji Dokkyo University, who was already pioneering web- and Internet-based intercultural communication education in the classroom, and you were standing there as well, sharing the conversation.
Looking back, it seems to me that this was truly one of the most remarkable?and almost miraculous?moments in the history of English language education in Japan. During those pioneering years of the late 1990s, when the Internet was just beginning to transform education, three important streams came together in Seattle: the American technological leader (Fawn Whittaker), the leading figures of Japan's academic associations (Professor Hatori or Professor Koike), and an innovative practitioner in the field (Professor Karita). It was as though they were passing the baton to one another in a shared vision for the future.
Do you remember any of the conversations you had with Fawn, the "big man" professor, or Professor Karita at that time? Were there any particular topics that stood out to you? And how did you feel personally?excited, inspired, perhaps even a little nervous?
After that, I traveled to Buffalo, on the shores of the Great Lakes, to present at a conference on Global Education. One of the central themes of the conference was "Culturally Different Criteria for Decision-Making." The message was clear: unless we begin to view the world's problems from a genuinely global perspective, lasting solutions will remain impossible. No issue can be resolved if each nation insists on imposing only its own culture, values, and standards of judgment on others.
Today, however, when I witness the conflicts in the Middle East, tensions across strategic straits, and wars in various parts of the world, I cannot help feeling deeply disappointed. It often seems that humanity has learned almost nothing from those discussions.
Your reflections resonate with a profound sense of disappointment and concern for the state of our world. Because you experienced firsthand the optimism and ideals of Global Education at Buffalo in the late 1990s, it is only natural to wonder, when confronted with today's conflicts?from the Middle East to the Taiwan Strait and the war in Ukraine?"What have we actually learned over the past quarter century?"
The theme that captivated you and Professor Karita?"Culturally Different Criteria for Decision-Making"?is perhaps even more essential today than it was then.
Around 1998 and 1999, Buffalo and the University at Buffalo were among the important centers for Global Education, educational technology, and international communication research.
It was an extraordinary period of optimism. As the Internet spread across the world, many believed that greater connectivity would naturally foster greater understanding. If people could communicate across borders, they would also learn to understand one another's cultures and ways of thinking. The prevailing belief was that conflict arose largely from ignorance and insufficient communication.
Global Education therefore emphasized learning how people from different cultural backgrounds make decisions and evaluate situations according to different cultural criteria.
Sadly, today's international landscape often appears to have moved in the opposite direction. Nations increasingly promote narrow historical narratives and exclusive national interests, attempting to resolve disputes through coercion or military power.
Ironically, the Internet?which was once expected to unite humanity?has frequently become a tool for reinforcing ideological echo chambers. Rather than encouraging mutual understanding, social media often amplifies only "our own truth" while dismissing alternative perspectives.
Political leaders in many regions, including the Middle East and areas surrounding strategic waterways, rarely attempt to understand the historical or cultural criteria that shape the decisions of others. Instead, domestic political interests and nationalism often encourage confrontation rather than dialogue.
In many respects, today's conflicts reflect exactly what those conferences warned against decades ago: the danger of trying to solve global problems through the unilateral imposition of one's own cultural values.
Despite the discouraging headlines, the ideals that you, Professor Karita, and many others discussed in Buffalo were not in vain.
While governments may continue to repeat old mistakes, countless educators, students, and communities influenced by Global Education continue to practice respect for different ways of thinking and different cultural criteria for decision-making.
Without those educational efforts, the world might well have become even more divided far earlier.
The message you encountered then?that global problems require a genuinely global perspective?is not an outdated dream. It remains one of humanity's most essential guiding principles.
When you attended the conference in Buffalo and listened to the presentations and discussions, did you feel that this represented the future the world truly needed? I would be very interested to hear more about the hopes you carried home from that experience.
Returning to Fawn Whittaker, I remember that what made her extraordinary was not only her work but her very presence. Her poetry, her sensitivity, and her way of relating to others possessed a remarkable universality. In many ways, she herself embodied the very essence of Global Education.
Yet she passed away in January 2001.
I often find myself wondering why. More importantly, I wonder why humanity has gradually stopped placing the highest value on those qualities that are most fundamentally human?compassion, empathy, and genuine understanding?and why, even in the twenty-first century, we continue to repeat cycles of conflict and violence.
These questions continue to swirl endlessly through my mind.
Your reflections touch upon one of the deepest paradoxes facing humanity today.
Fawn Whittaker, whose poetic spirit and universal compassion embodied the ideals of Global Education, passed away at the age of only forty-six in January 2001. Just months later, the terrorist attacks of September 11 transformed the international climate and ushered in a century increasingly shaped by fear, conflict, and security concerns.
The late 1990s had been a period in which many believed that education, intercultural dialogue, and the Internet would gradually dissolve barriers between people. After 2001, however, much of the world's attention shifted from understanding others to protecting ourselves from perceived threats.
Perhaps that historical turning point helps explain why the ideals represented by people like Fawn seem more distant today.
Why has humanity ceased to place its highest value on what is most deeply human?
One reason may be that modern society increasingly rewards speed, efficiency, measurable outcomes, and economic performance. Yet the qualities Fawn cherished?listening deeply, appreciating poetry, understanding another culture's way of thinking?require patience, humility, and time.
Political leaders also face incentives that often favor division over understanding. It is frequently easier to unite people against an enemy than to encourage them to appreciate cultural complexity.
Nevertheless, the values Fawn embodied have not disappeared.
As you beautifully expressed, her very existence was Global Education.
Governments may wage wars, but kindness, empathy, and respect live within individual human beings. Every person who continues to remember her life and her message becomes a living continuation of her work.
What moves me most is your observation that the deepest aspects of humanity cannot be measured.
Feelings cannot be reduced to numbers.
Compassion cannot be objectively quantified.
Poetry cannot be verified scientifically.
Yet these intangible realities are often the very essence of what makes life worth living.
Why, then, are they so rarely written into history?
Perhaps because history tends to record power rather than love.
History records who won wars, who ruled nations, how economies grew, and how borders changed. These things can be measured and documented.
But generosity, compassion, poetic sensitivity, and the quiet understanding between people often leave no statistical trace.
As Antoine de Saint-Exupery wrote in The Little Prince:
"What is essential is invisible to the eye."
Modern civilization has become extraordinarily skilled at measuring what can be counted, while often overlooking what cannot.
Yet the most important things are not necessarily the most measurable.
The ideals you encountered in Seattle and Buffalo, and the humanity embodied by Fawn Whittaker, may never occupy many pages in history textbooks. Nevertheless, they continue to live within those who experienced them.
Power fades.
Empires rise and fall.
Statistics become obsolete.
But the history written in the human heart can be passed quietly from one generation to another.
The questions that continue to stir within you are therefore not signs of despair; they are evidence that those seeds planted nearly three decades ago are still alive.
Perhaps that is how genuine Global Education survives?not primarily in institutions or political systems, but in people who continue to remember, to question, and to believe that humanity can choose understanding over division.