Across oceans: How retracing the Long March inspires a Guatemalan journalist to bridge the Global South
This year marks the 90th anniversary of the victory of the Red Army's Long March. To mark the occasion, China International Communications Group (CICG) launched the international communication project "Together on the Long March: 90th Anniversary of an Epic Journey." The initiative aims to help global audiences better understand the founding ideals and mission of the Communist Party of China (CPC), as well as the enduring values that have guided the Chinese people through decades of struggle and development.
On July 24, as a key component of this project, the sharing and exchange meeting titled "The Enduring Echo of the Long March: Toward a Shared Future" was held in Yan'an. More than 50 Chinese and foreign guests gathered to discuss the contemporary relevance of the Long March spirit.
Below is the full text of the speech delivered by Julissa Marilena Martinez Molina de Molina, producer, announcer and host of Emisoras Unidas de Guatemala.
It is a profound honor to be here today in Yan'an, on land where history stopped being a story and became stone, road, and living memory. I come from Guatemala – the land of the Mayan civilization – a country small in territory but immense in history, and I want to thank the China International Communications Group and China Today magazine for opening a space for me in this dialogue.
When one walks – even symbolically – along the route of the Long March, it is impossible not to feel a familiar echo. I say this as a Guatemalan, because our own history is also woven from long marches: the resistance of indigenous peoples who, for centuries, defended their identity against adversity; the struggles for independence; the roads walked by entire communities in search of a more just future. China's Long March has its own unique, unrepeatable context, but the universal language of sacrifice, of perseverance against the impossible, is something any Latin American people recognize immediately.
That is why I believe the true value of this commemoration lies not only in remembering an extraordinary historical episode, but in asking ourselves what it tells us today about the human condition. What does it mean to persist when the road seems endless? What does it mean for an entire generation to decide to walk thousands of kilometers, convinced that a better future awaits on the other side? That question does not belong to China alone. It belongs to all of us.
This brings me to the second theme I want to share: internationalism. We live in an era where global narratives tend to be dominated by a few voices, a few languages, a few perspectives. And yet, human history has always been richer when we engage across different cultures, when we recognize that suffering and hope carry no passport. The Long March spirit, understood in its most universal dimension – collective discipline, solidarity in scarcity, faith in a shared project – is not a cultural export, but an invitation to mutual recognition. As a journalist, this is precisely my work: building narrative bridges between realities that, at first glance, seem distant, but which at their core share the same essential questions.
This leads me to my third point: the common development of humanity. In these past days I have had the opportunity to travel through Yan'an and Wuqi, to see with my own eyes how territories once synonymous with scarcity and isolation are today examples of rural revitalization, industrial modernization, and communities that have found new ways to prosper without giving up their identity. And I confess that, watching this, I inevitably thought of the rural areas of Guatemala and all of Central America, where we face similar challenges: how to generate development without uprooting people, how to modernize without losing memory, how to build progress that leaves no one behind.
This is not about copying models, or assuming that one path to development works the same way everywhere. Every country, every region, has its own history, its own people, its own conditions. But I do firmly believe there is enormous value in an honest exchange of experiences across the so-called Global South. Latin America and China, despite geographic distance and clear differences in systems and histories, share a legitimate interest: showing that development need not be synonymous with inequality, that economic progress can coexist with cultural preservation, and that rural communities are not a problem to be solved, but a heritage that deserves investment and respect.
As a journalist invited to this space, I am not here to repeat slogans or automatically validate every narrative presented to me. I come, rather, with the responsibility to observe, to ask questions, to compare what I see with what I know, and to tell it honestly to my own audience. I believe that is precisely the role international journalism must play in moments like this: not to serve as a megaphone for a single narrative, but to weave a plural, nuanced account that allows people in Guatemala, in Central America, throughout Latin America, to better understand what is happening here, in this part of the world, and why it might matter to them.
I will close with a personal reflection. Walking through these lands has reminded me that great transformations – whether a march of thousands of kilometers nine decades ago, or the quiet revitalization of a rural town today – share the same origin: the conviction that the future is worth building, even when the road ahead is uncertain. That conviction knows no borders, belongs to no single ideology, speaks no single language.
May this forum serve not only to commemorate a glorious past, but to build real bridges of understanding between peoples who, though separated by oceans, share the same essential aspiration: development that dignifies people and leaves no one behind along the way.
As the Popol Vuh, the sacred book of the K'iche' Maya, teaches:"Let everyone rise up, let no one be left behind; let it not be just one or two of us, but all of us."
