By Ahmed Kurnia Suriawidjaja
Director of Indonesia School of Journalism of Indonesian Journalists Association, Indonesia
My recent journey to the cities of Nanchang and Ganzhou—both nestled within China’s Jiangxi Province – offered more than beautiful landscapes and historic sites. It was an encounter with a living legacy: the Hakka people, often considered the cultural heart of this region. While it may not be officially titled so, Ganzhou is frequently referred to as the “capital of Hakka culture”, and rightly so. It is home to millions of Hakka descendants and preserves their centuries-old traditions with pride.
The Hakka are a unique Han Chinese subgroup whose name literally means “guest people.” Originating from northern China, they began a long and challenging southward migration over a thousand years ago. Their journey was not leisurely; it was driven by war, famine, political instability, and social upheaval. As they settled in southern China, particularly in Jiangxi, Guangdong, and Fujian, they carried not only their belongings but their language, architecture, customs, and values.
In Jiangxi, I witnessed how the Hakka have preserved their distinct identity while seamlessly integrating into broader Chinese society. Their hallmark tulou – fortified circular homes – stand as architectural testaments to their resilience, cooperation, and communal living.
These experiences echoed the core message of the 2025 Belt and Road Journalists Forum, held under the theme “Promoting Civilization Dialogue and Global Modernization with the Power of Journalists.”
This forum is not merely a professional gathering. It is a laboratory of ideas. A space where East meets West, and North meets South. Here, journalists do more than report; we reflect, challenge, and shape cultural narratives. And in Jiangxi, through the Hakka lens, I saw civilization dialogue in action.
The Hakka story provides a living lesson. They are known for their remarkable adaptability – whether in food, clothing, language, or work. They have embraced new environments wherever they went, yet never abandoned their values. In many ways, they are the embodiment of cultural resilience.
One of the Hakka community’s most profound strengths is their collective wisdom. Unlike the more familiar concept of “local wisdom” which emphasizes knowledge rooted in specific places, collective wisdom refers to the shared insights, strategies, and principles developed by a community over generations to face social, environmental, and moral challenges. Their tulou are not just buildings; they are physical expressions of how collective living and shared responsibility are central to their survival and identity.
I also learned how the Hakka’s values continue to evolve without losing their essence. Even as modernity sweeps across China, the Hakka maintain their ancestral practices. Their festivals, music, and rituals live side-by-side with high-speed trains and 5G towers. This harmony between tradition and progress tells us: modernization and cultural heritage are not in opposition. They can thrive together.
This insight is crucial for journalists. In today’s digital age, our role is not only to deliver facts but to act as filters of truth. We must discern healthy information from disinformation, challenge stereotypes, and highlight stories of resilience and coexistence. The Hakka, with their quiet strength, teach us that embracing change doesn’t mean losing identity. Instead, it’s about carrying identity forward into new contexts.
In today’s polarized media landscape, where sensationalism often overshadows substance, the Hakka model offers an antidote: deliberation over division, understanding over fear. And journalists must rise to the occasion, becoming not only chroniclers of change but also stewards of civilization dialogue.
As I walked through the narrow lanes of ancient villages in Nankang and joined discussions with scholars, I felt deeply inspired. Civilization dialogue isn’t a distant theory. It’s alive in the stories of real people. It’s in the smiles of children learning Hakka songs in school, and in the hands of elders who still craft wooden furniture by hand. It’s in the perseverance of women who still prepare traditional Hakka dishes in communal kitchens, and in the celebrations where the past meets the present.
The journey to Jiangxi left me with a profound belief: that journalists must listen, absorb, and tell stories not just of progress, but of roots. And perhaps, like the Hakka, we too can learn to be global citizens who stay grounded in where we come from.
The Hakka story is a mirror held up to the global world. A reminder that identity is not a fixed relic, but a living resource. In Jiangxi, I didn’t just find a cultural community. I found a philosophy of life that balances past and future, individuality and community, tradition and transformation. As we build bridges across borders, may we also build them across generations – and let the wisdom of the Hakka guide us.
*The views and opinions expressed in the articles are solely those of the individual authors and do not reflect the position of the Secretariat of the Belt and Road Journalist Network.