María Teresa Babín, Humanist of the Year 1987
In response to all that this generous act of intellectual support represents, my main words are thanks to the Board of Directors and to the chairman of the Endowment for having considered me worthy of the honor that comes with the title of Humanist of the Year. Those who have preceded me represent an ideological range of brilliant literary, historical, creative and erudite work in the 20th century. I know them all. Some have been my teachers and predecessors at the University. Others have shared with me dreams and disappointments, concerns and unfinished projects, and their works have been the objects of my attention and my appreciation for what they mean to the letters, the education and the history of the ideas of our country and beyond Puerto Rico. As I stated in a letter to Dr. Arturo Morales Carrión, I have accepted this honor with humility and enthusiasm. The words of Dr. Concha Meléndez, the humanist chosen to inaugurate this “gallery” eight years ago, have provided me with the key for bringing together these various “artists” in one lecture. That intelligent and hard-working creature, endowed with a surprising memory, traveler to Peru, Colombia, Argentina and Mexico, creator of the Hispano-American literature department in the University, upon reading and reviewing the first edition Panorama of Puerto Rican Culture published in 1958, related that book to another earlier one about Hispanic culture that had been written in 1949 by D.C. Health and Co. Our professor noted, in part, a constant that she recognized in some of the essays and wrote the following:

“There are intelligences that by their nature like wide open horizons, pointing toward the past the spyglasses of an imagination enlivened by curiosity. They look from the present and think about the view with the goal of illuminating the future.”

The study and observation of the changing course of life in our country and in the world in which we are placed at this moment has occupied the attention of the person whom Dr. Concha Meléndez placed in that intellectual mode, opening to me the door to focus the “spyglasses of an imagination enlivened by curiosity,” turning the monologue into a dialogue with you.


“The path of a culture is usually more silent, whispering and confidential than those who want to open politics with greater disturbance and collective agitation,” suggested Mariano Picón Salas in 1962, contrasting culture and politics, which cannot be, however, separate and apparently distanced concepts, as he tried to describe them in those noble words… The Puerto Rico that we call our home and our heritage, with this feeling of possession and loving surrender with which human beings put a name on the concrete and the abstract, is a physical and moral entity, a dream and a reality. We affirm a feeling that needs no erudite explanations when we call it “ours” and feel it “within.” Humanists everywhere and throughout time obstinately dig up the reasons for injustices, and in this role philosophy, the sciences and the arts are in constant movement. This unsatisfied longing for knowledge is the reason the humanities exist in the open and complex world that has us trapped in its infinite reach. It is worthwhile to ask: Where is Puerto Rico? Geographically, we locate ourselves on the mental or graphic map in the space we occupy in the Caribbean… but in this space we are only a few million beings, children in turn of other men and women before our grandparents who came from places far from the Caribbean or across the Atlantic, while the beat of the song of the Antilles ties us to other beings on other lands who speak a different language, in a mix of voices and souls framed by the hereditary signs of a millennia of history that surpasses the 500 years…

Wherever we proclaim our emotional affiliation, this home and this heritage exist as a latent and present national entity. Many cities in the United States now have numerous residents of Puerto Rican origin. Many schools and universities in the United States have begun to turn their attention to Puerto Rico as an important object of study, and there are many places in the world where the Puerto Rican voice is beginning to be heard with respect. This situation is not new, but goes way back, it has history, but it is currently a warning sign because of its social, political and human characteristics.

Education has been the most sensible barometer for measuring the extent of this penetration into the structure of the culture at all levels of society. Those of us who have been aware of it have not hesitated to express ourselves about the issue, participating directly or indirectly in the formulation of programs, changes and perspectives, because it is this complex series of ideas and concepts that is the basic fiber that gives strength to the rope of the educational process in this century. Unanimous agreement — if it existed — would give us an image of Dulcinea with Aldonza in the background, a Minerva with Ariadne behind (my favorite myth), in that ambivalent course of the 20th century in the smallest of the Greater Antilles, which today plays the biggest role and wears mother Spain’s finest clothes for the big celebration or dresses in loud colors for the elections every four years, without losing through these exterior displays the underlying dignity of authenticity and persistence in the cultural map of the Americas. With intelligence and visionary sensitivity to try to put an end to such disturbances, despite the worries he had to face before and after assuming direction of the Education Department in the middle of the century, Don Mariano Villaronga Toro, without any legislation to that effect, validating a statement that was circulating as a sign of protest in the education system, decreed that the vehicle of instruction in Puerto Rico would be the vernacular, our oral and written Spanish, while English would continue as a second language with all the necessary attention that it deserved as one of the great languages of the Americas and Europe. That audacious act by Villaronga in 1948 was an unexpected declaration of academic independence whose positive effects crashed against the wall of confusion caused by the lack of teaching materials in Spanish, because until then teaching had been done with texts imported from the United States and the pedagogy was supported by methodological criteria inapplicable to the Puerto Rican reality. If the bone to pick up to then had been English, and I believe it still is today, we are presented here at the end of the century with a muffled battle between the powerful network of private schools that persist in using English, with the inevitable sequel of socio-economic and political prejudices, and the public schools overburdened with the weight of the majority of students and the demands of an ever more gigantic system, fighting against the impositions that emerge from ideological conflicts at the highest spheres of politics and use bilingualism to confound the educators who defend the vernacular while at the same time understanding the importance of English in instruction. A healthy and judicious educational philosophy in Puerto Rico that now has 90 years of extraordinary persistence to safeguard the best fruits of intelligence, avoiding the dissolution of the personality, although it is not in any written document, is the concrete fact of the efforts by so many teachers and students who survived nearly a century of adversity with a clear purpose of raising up the schools as a vital nucleus of our culture. Our educational system has gone through experiences of intense difficulty with sporadic satisfactions, such as the time when the School of General Studies was created at the University and the special programs in the high schools for talented students, good examples that show the benefit of humanism in the educational system… Now we are all talking about another educational reform, although it is still up in the air with the four bills in the Senate and the corresponding ones in the House since March and April of 1988, which are under the magnifying glass we keep on education. This effort by legislators should be studied without bias… although we know a priori that writing laws and creating new bureaucratic structures, without the radical innovations beginning in the primary and secondary levels where the children are who will be professionals and teachers when they become adults, would not be a sensible reform. It requires that society itself look at educators with the range of respect and consideration they deserve. The true teacher will always be a student who never stopped learning, one who understands that the material is never static and therefore requires renewed examination, reading, possession of a language, an attitude and an alert awareness toward dialogue and co-existence. The University, if it is to be the missionary to rescue humankind, has to set goals on the horizons of excellence, and never boast, “mission accomplished,” which would be a life already lived, or in other words, death. On the contrary, the youth is the University’s treasure and the unexplored world of the arts and sciences has to be the strength of the university’s leadership.

In the history of education, there are some flashes that redeem the system for its blunders and difficulties, examples of how much can be done, going against the wind and tide, when a visionary spirit pits itself against the giants of confusion. Finishing my bachelor’s degree and beginning to teach produced one of those moments. I refer to the excellent Spanish Language and Literature Program that Doña Carmen Gómez Tejera was very quietly creating with a group of brilliant colleagues, without any publicity, and making teachers into participants in the process in a lively current at the edge of the insidious and persistent incursion of politics. Doña Carmen inspired the humanistic concept embodied in that program and stimulated the creation of the magazine Brújula with the Spanish Teachers Circular, giving us a complementary instrument to enjoy our educational mission… I am speaking about the years from 1932 to 1939, more or less, when the island began to take on a brave attitude and face destiny without submitting to the colonial power with eyes downcast. Two incidents framed our thinking forever: the Ponce Massacre in that terrible year of 1937, as I called it in an article published in El Imparcial, and the Spanish Civil War of 1936 to 1939, whose repercussions in our cultural sphere left deep marks outlined in a lecture I gave at the Athenaeum and published in 1938 in the Repertorio Americano de Costa Rica: Displays of Spanish Culture during the War.

The edges of the concern over education led us to think about the language. Every teacher is a teacher of language, whether explaining sciences, literature, philosophy, anthropology, domestic economics or trade laws. Because the communication in an academic circular is one of dialogue and meditation about the basic problems in each discipline, all of which is done through language, the skills of the teacher in oral and written use of the language is primordial. In terms of the different and controversial aspects of literary language before and after the avalanche of famous works related to the “boom” between the years 1960 and 1980, I have written in the Modern Hispanic Magazine about the concept of the anti-novel, analyzing the first important book of this trend, Rayuela, by Julio Cortázar, a writer of exceptional linguistic refinement… and in relation to Puerto Rico itself and the imitators of the current wave of Hispanic American narrative, I have demonstrated my point of view in the installation speech I gave in 1980 at the Academy of Language: The Language, Protagonist of Our Literature in the 20th Century.

By the end of the century, the Spanish language will be further extended in the English-speaking Americas and in distant lands in the East and the West. Along with this universal spread of Spanish, it would be very opportune and beneficial to create in Puerto Rico a school for translators, dedicated to translating selected works of our culture into English, French and other languages. Foreigners come to our universities asking for literary, historical and sociological works in English… Every year, the Center for Advanced Studies receives group of professionals eager to learn about the bibliography of Puerto Rico and they ask us for books in English. Why not develop a Translation Center that can dedicate itself to producing works of excellence in this unexplored field of the humanities without having to meet the academic requirements of any established department? The winners in letters are openly supported by militant intelligence with the translation and dissemination of their writing, but it is necessary to assume responsibility for releasing good translations of the best works in all the genres and humanities disciplines that Puerto Rico has produced this century and centuries past. Breaking down the insular divisions and taking the leading role that is the place of culture in the world of ideas is the goal of humanists. Along with books, the fine arts must be disseminated without borders in the museums, musical concerts and theaters of the countries of the Americas and Europe and so many other places that have begun to recognize our existence as an entity with a creative, recognized personality.

Thinking about the frequent and disturbing trials in this ambivalent pendulum of indecision that has made public and private education into a monstrous labyrinth, points the spyglass that Concha Meléndez talked about on the two branches that Dr. Arturo Morales Carrión called “the internal community” and the “external community” of Puerto Rico in a speech dated July 30, 1976, in Newark, New Jersey, with the title The Concord Among Puerto Ricans. Since about 1968, a climate of violence and revolutionary confrontations in education had been developing in the United States and it hit close to home for Puerto Ricans. In New York — where I spent the summer of 1969 — we shared and put up with humiliations, troubles, threats and all kinds of injuries in that crucial stage that left beneficial results (long term) in both the “external community” and in the “internal community.” “Puerto Rican studies” became part of the curriculum in many universities… as a humanities discipline, with a sociological emphasis, while in Puerto Rico, only Don Ricardo Alegría, first at the Institute of Culture and later at the Center for Advanced Studies of Puerto Rico and the Caribbean, guided intelligent communication between the “external community” and this other “internal community” with diligence and confidence in the values of Puerto Rican culture. In issue 18 of the French magazine Caravelle, of 1972, appeared a work on this topic, which was so hot at the time, and explained the circumstances that led to the origin of the creation of programs and departments of Puerto Rican studies, which had merged with other fields of research in sociology, political sciences, languages and literature, social work and so many other leading fields, either within the Hispanic Americas or as a fundamental part of Antillean cultural anthropology. In addition to establishing the Eugenio María de Hostos School in the Bronx as a unit of the City University, the Boricua University also arose with a campus in Manhattan and another in Brooklyn, while the Ford Foundation created scholarships for doctoral studies and the Modern Language Association established a Minority Studies Committee that extended its activities to all of the states. The back and forth flow of conferences and institutes organized by the powerful Modern Language Association through the Minority Studies Committee (to which I belonged and eventually chaired), allowed me to have close relationships with colleagues who represented that multi-colored compendium of Chicanos, American Indians (who prefer to identify themselves, and I believe with good reason, as Native Americans), blacks and Puerto Ricans who dedicated ourselves to study and exchange of information and ideas about the history, art, literature, social problems, politics and economics of the immense human mosaic of our people on the motley stage of this great theater the world calls the United States de America. At Yale University, we spent a summer offering an intensive course to a group of teachers from a variety of educational institutions around the country on the culture of each “minority,” which gave me the opportunity to compare the similarities and profound differences between Puerto Rico and the other “minorities” in that many-sided framework. In many cases, they are immense minorities and make up a quantitative majority that augurs an expansion of power and the survival of the Spanish-speaking element in which the Boricua accent beats in the “external community” that Morales Carrión spoke about in 1976, and whose vibrations sent to the “internal community” bring urgent messages that we should not ignore. In the magazine Daedalus (summer of 1988), published by the Academy of Arts and Sciences of the United States, I read an article by a professor emeritus of Duke University, John Hope Franklyn, reviving this very stage to which I refer. Another interesting moment during that period was my participation in the Symposium of Comparative Literature held at Texas Tech University on January 17 to 31, 1976, under the broad umbrella of “Ethnic Literatures since 1976: The Many Voices of America,” in which I presented a talk titled The Jíbaro: Symbol and Synthesis. In addition to the hundreds of educated faculty members and artists who participated in the symposium to commemorate the bicentennial of the independence of the United States, I was impressed that many Puerto Ricans came to Lubbock to hear my talk. Simply put, the “external community” identified with the “internal community” on that unforgettably glorious Saturday that culminated in the university library with an exhibition of selected works by authors from Puerto Rico, a gift of our Institute of Culture that has been there since.

The system of values and preferences stuck together in our concept of culture today spills into much of the geographic area of the internal community. Since the 19th century, Puerto Rico has had a stellar representation of famous patriots, writers and artists in foreign lands. The fame of many sons of our country in the present has also transcended well beyond El Morro, and we all celebrate today the triumphs of our outstanding artists and scientists in all professions. If, at the end of the 19th century, the New York metropolitan area was a mighty center of revolutionary activism, where distinguished Antillean, Central American and South American figures drew up plans of attack, it has also been, and continues to be, the same in this century. The exaltation of the figure of Eugenio María de Hostos by scholars and supporters of his works is a promising sign for the work that remains to be done to rescue from being forgotten the ideas and acts of these other men and women who have left a mark with their creativity and their patriotism on the history of the Puerto Rico that they loved and honored in their time. I have always believed that identity is a psychological phenomenon of firm choice and faith in permanence. In their consciences, with a mix of jaibería and stubbornness, the Boricuas of here and there know perfectly well who they are, above and beyond the artificial classifications they are boxed in to, as well as convenient mimetism and political validation, but they never fall short in sentiment and will, conscious or otherwise, of a way of being and existing, an essence and a consistency, of a loyalty to heritage beyond partisan dogmatism. The 20th century has been and continues to be the final stage of purgatory in our divine comedy. Some historians and sociologists like to reconstruct “the material of daily life,” in the words of our intelligent researcher Dr. Quintero Rivera in his book on “plebeians and patricians,” supporting his ideas with political, economic and social theories applicable to the world today. This reminds me of students of Puerto Rican literature who cannot forgive the unfortunate Alonso Ramírez, who emigrated to Mexico and went around the world in the 17th century, for two things: one, the most important, that he had a slave at his service, and the other, that he never returned to San Juan, Puerto Rico. The laudable devotion to study and research by those who create a historiography and sociology of literature and of life sometimes reveals more romantic passion than that invented by the artists of magical realism, not for the research done, but for the apocalyptic force of the illustrations, the language and the style of some of the books that express an overwhelming display of hubris to knock down what their predecessors have done in these fertile fields of history and sociology, disciplines that can only support the future of the culture by maintaining respect for the continuity of the thread that periodically renews the image of a world in constant change without destroying the roots that sustain it. Differences in interpretation, yes, but never destruction and an attempt to deny or suppress the ideas or efforts of the predecessors and researchers who have done their work with seriousness and conscientious study.

In translating the memory to the “external community,” I cannot avoid referring to another dimension, perhaps the most pathetic, because it has to do with the demographic facts presented to us by statistics: the back and forth movement, or the migration without any possibility of return, by so many thousands of anonymous beings that have crossed the sea from Puerto Rico to the United States, looking for financial security and for other reasons that are diverse and difficult to categorize. Situated in a strange and sometimes hostile environment, transplanted to an opulent society that is pluralistic in nature and receives them scornfully in a political and social grinder that must assimilate them or reject them, condemned to live on the margins, those Puerto Ricans want to continue to be Puerto Ricans and resist losing their identity. It seems to me that today these multitudes of the external community have frozen the brotherhood with the internal community in silence, both feeling the chains of injustice, the terror of the prison cells, the hopelessness and suffering of the dispossessed that wound the sensibilities of the men and women who detest inhuman torture at the same time they condemn the militant terrorism of the desperate of the world. The other side of the coin is the fortunate ones who have been able to find a comfortable place in the United States. A quick look at New York — which I know best — lets us see the proliferation of activities and artistic and political centers that have arisen there during the 20th century and in other cities with their gaze turned toward Puerto Rico. Before the Institute of Puerto Rican Culture existed, founded in 1955, the Institute of Puerto Rico had already been founded in New York, and it remains very active. Among its first activities, I remember the recognition of Dr. José Padín, named citizen of the year in 1952, and another honor for lexicographer Don Augusto Malaret in 1959, when nobody in this “internal community” appeared to remind the eminent educator and first great student of the language of those who, having given so much of their talent to Puerto Rico, are often forced to abandon the country of their birth.

The addition of history to creative literature has appeared sporadically in some recent books, and among some quality examples I have a lot of respect for the work of the artist of the language Edgardo Rodríguez Juliá in Campeche, or the Demons of Melancholy, and his ability to integrate the visual art of the genius painter of the 18th century with the invisible roots of the social world of Puerto Rico at that time, reflected in discreet and subtle verbal sensuality. In the same way a journalist achieves a moving depiction of a character among our people through music and painting, establishing, with a poetic touch, a tie between the “internal” and the “external community,” between Puerto Rico and New York, in this baroque style of hidden emotion.

When we consider that neither the literature nor the history of Puerto Rico had been part of the instruction until thirty-five years ago (the first history of the literature was published in 1956) it is easy to understand the lack of knowledge of these materials by many writers and professors, and what is even more serious is that it is still discussed whether it is necessary to acquire a basic knowledge of history in the universities, where thousands of professionals graduate every year knowing absolutely nothing of what they should know about the fundamental structures that make up the foundation of the current, troubled century, so full of perplexities, because they don’t know where we come from or where we are going. This shameful ignorance must be eradicated for the good of collective education and the rehabilitation of the degraded human being that some writers have made into a prototype of the Puerto Rican in a perverse morbidity. The literature of the 20th century also has a reserve of works that are little read and almost unknown, although they have received praise from critics in Europe, the United States and in the rest of the Americas. Such is the case with the poet, novelist and essayist Don José Agustín Balseiro, as we learn in his Literary Memories and Personal Reminiscences (Gredos, 1981). The University Press currently is printing the Selected Works by Balseiro, the humanist of 1984, with a preliminary study that is titled, “José Agustín Balseiro, Man of Letters in Action.” It is thanks to him that there is a monument to Hostos at the University, in addition to his efforts to found the Puerto Rican Academy of the Spanish Language. In writing about Minorities and the Masses in Contemporary Culture and Art, Guillermo de Torre, in 1963, condemned excessive materialism, longing for the “inspiration” or “style” that had evaporated, by making a very personal plea: “Enough of material things! Spirit. Where is the spirit?” Today we can say that the unchecked pornographic exhibitionism of many books, as well as the boredom that repetitive themes cause in the reader, can lead to distancing those who have already climbed the ladder of success from other creators by returning to the same waters of life, as Teresa de ávila said, without stridency or destructive violence to the language and human intimacy. In the field of communication in this era of electronic media, computers and so many other machines of astonishing efficacy, a friend told me recently, that before, when we were poor, we saw each other more, we talked, we felt the friendship as a strength, and now “the solitude, the force of walking alone,” as Palés said, is felt to be the same companion. This vein reminds me of issue number 6 of 1966 of Dialogues, the magazine of the Department of Philosophy at the University of Puerto Rico, dedicated to the lectures of the Paradoxes of Latin America Forum, which brought together a magnificent collection of paths toward understanding among the nations of the Americas that still speak Spanish. The talk by Dr. Monelissa Pérez Marchand, supported by a quote from Alfonso Reyes, focused on the existing non-communication in Latin America. Re-reading the essay by this illustrious colleague has made me think about the sharpest artists of this “non-communication.” In 1988, this does not refer to what is known or unknown among the American countries, but rather the internal non-communication in each national nucleus, tragically involved in ideological wars, while Puerto Rico itself, where there is presumably a democracy, lives in perennial discord that gets in the way of communication about educational goals and political aspirations.

The creative sensibility of our people has produced an extraordinary amount of wealth and varied forms of folklore in music, in dance and the graphic arts that erupt from the so-called subculture of the city, emergences incorporated into the festivals, theatrical works, television and radio media, filling the artistic scene with different tones and accents, while in other spheres a vigorous abundance of creative talent is also seen. Probing these depths shows that cultural survival in the Puerto Rico of today is a convincing fact. If I speak of “survival,” it is to understand that this framework of promising activity exists despite forces against it that our country has had to overcome in the 20th century: material poverty, the limitations imposed by “politics” in power every four years, the worry in a society perverted by drugs and crime, the internal conflicts and so many other symptoms of non-conformity and concern, but what has never been lost in this chaotic space of the internal community is the intrinsic faith in the human being as an indestructible entity. It is from this amount of experiences and pain and anguish that must emerge the unexpected spiritual excellence that can float to the top through its intrinsic value when the flood of euphoria and the excesses of unrest have passed. The internal currents of thought should recover the forgotten sources of the indigenous culture, not to keep it static and isolated, but rather to move intelligence toward this magnet of hope. A fundamental element of the conquest was the dazzling fusion of the speech of the conquistadors with the surviving splinters of the aborigine and African dialects that produced a symbiosis of the vernacular that has constituted the rock of resistance of our indisputable identity. The first learned currents during the colonization arrived with the poetry, the novel and the theater of the Golden Era, while the theme of the Americas and its artistic image passed to the arts and letters, the sciences and the countless other branches of knowledge during the 16th and 17th centuries. The name of Puerto Rico was written in the Ellegy V by Castellanos, in the Laurel of Apollo by Lope de Vega, in the poetry of Francisco de Ayerra y Santa María, in the Misfortunes of Alonso Ramírez, in the seven years of the Bishop Bernardo de Balbuena in Puerto Rico, where the author of Mexican Greatness died, in the carols of Sister Juana, in the comedies of various playwrights, and by extension, in the true history by Bernal Díaz del Castillo, in the famous memoirs of mestizaje by the Inca Garcilaso, in the fierce Arawak sung about by Ercilla and in the chronicles, the letters and the secret ethnographies that since 1947 have occupied the attention of Don Ricardo Alegría, author of, among other things of importance, a beautiful book published in 1978, The First Graphical Representations of the American Indian (1493-1523), a beautiful book that ended with the description from the title page of the edition of the Letters from Cortes to the emperor Carlos V, noting with great subtlety that in the wood engraving appears an island, a pair of Indians with a child, a large tree, a macaw, a canoe, and other symbols of the embryonic culture.

The presence in Puerto Rico of unforgettable writers such as Mario Picón Salas, author of The Ignoble Savages, leads me to give these words a humanist background. Those thinkers who we know personally in Puerto Rico left behind moving, enthusiastic and encouraging words because they understood the culture of Puerto Rico, not in a paternalistic way or with airs of arrogance and hubris, but rather as equal to equal, in a partnership with the spirit. When Mariano Picón Salas walked the labyrinth of UNESCO in Paris as a representative of Venezuela, he wrote the book I refer to — The Ignoble Savages (1962). The title itself is a branding iron that burns and exalts the thinking of any of the “ignoble savages”… because in the end, we are all a part of the metaphor and the author places a self-portrait in this amalgam of criticism of society, politics, economic structures and the individual and collective conduct of educated men and women of the 20th century. Picón Salas, as I have tried to show in this simple talk, tried to unravel ethics for the future. The author looked at the horrors of the century’s history, the books, art, the attitudes reflected in national and international laws, for the key that could explain the barbarism and corruption of a world of savages in the middle of the 20th century. From his point of view, my Venezuelan friend, a spectator and actor in the drama, urges us to see if it is possible to examine our conscience and find a way to put mankind in a new, upright position, with dignity and love for one another. To study the varieties of “ignoble savagery,” Picón Salas said, “the anthropologist now no longer needs to plunge into the jungles of New Guinea or in the swamp of the immense Amazon. There are ‘ignoble savages’ who write books, who have launched revolutions, tyrannize people and appear every day pictured in the newspapers.”

The Center for Advanced Studies on Puerto Rico and the Caribbean, directed with loving persistence by its founder, Don Ricardo Alegría, one of the most prestigious educators, due to his devotion to the Puerto Rican culture, represents this untiring will in very precise objectives: one part research and study of the past, and one part stimulating the creative intelligence of the present. As a focal point over the last ten years, the support given to education by the Puerto Rican Endowment for the Humanities, under the inspired and wise leadership of Dr. Arturo Morales Carrión, is another example of promising things to come. Adjusting the image of cultural survival to counteract the degrading socio-political show in the Puerto Rico of today is the path of education with humanistic roots, exploring prehistoric paths and caves, digging up the deep treasures and miseries of the human animal, wavering between monster and the stars, bound to the earth and with eyes open to the mystery of the unknown.*

*This lecture is part of a book being prepared on educational and literary topics.

Autor: María Teresa Babín
Published: April 29, 2015.

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