A commemorative moment in Beijing combines reflections on World War II with current global tensions, inviting debate about who should be at the table and how history is used to shape present-day diplomacy. As Moscow prepares its own Victory Day milestone, Beijing plans a parallel spectacle that could become a proving ground for alliances, memory, and geopolitical signaling in a rapidly shifting world order.
A backdrop to a commemorative moment: WWII, victory, and the shifting world order
World War II ended in 1945 with outcomes that reshaped the global order for decades to come. The Soviet Union and the United States emerged as the two superpowers whose wartime alliance, forged in the crucible of shared defeat of the Axis, produced both victory and a precarious balance of power that soon descended into the Cold War. The victory itself was not the task of a single nation alone, but the culmination of sustained, enormous sacrifices across many countries. For China, the war against Japanese aggression was a devastating chapter in its own long struggle to secure sovereignty and survive as a modern nation. The human toll on China was staggering, with estimates of casualties running into tens of millions; this history remains a defining part of China’s national memory and its sense of moral standing in the world.
In Europe, the Allied triumph over fascism was celebrated as a collective achievement, with the United States and the United Kingdom — along with the Soviet Union — playing pivotal roles in defeating Nazi Germany and its ambitions. France’s wartime experience, marked by both occupation and resistance, also influenced postwar narratives about liberation and collaboration in occupied territories. The postwar peace, however, did not deliver a seamless consensus; instead, it produced a new framework for international relations, one that soon fractured into blocs and competing visions of order, security, and governance. In Asia, the end of the war did not erase the region’s own anxieties about sovereignty, imperial legacies, and the emergence of new power dynamics that would shape regional politics for years to come.
As the decades passed, the memory of the war became a resource in politics, a way for nations to assert moral legitimacy, justify strategic choices, or critique rivals. The narrative of victory and the memory of those who suffered were sometimes invoked to draw lines between what is viewed as just resistance and what is cast as aggression or opportunism. In this context, commemorations such as the Victory Day ceremonies take on more than ceremonial importance: they become moments when nations articulate their interpretations of history, reaffirm their values, and signal how they intend to engage with one another in the contemporary world.
In recent years, with regional conflicts simmering and great-power competition intensifying, commemorations of the World War II era have taken on renewed significance. They are not only exercises in memory but also strategic statements about which countries are seen as rightful heirs to the peace that followed the war, how past alliances are remembered, and how present-day foreign policy might be shaped by those memories. The question at the heart of many observers is whether such ceremonies can remain faithful to their historical origins while avoiding becoming tools for partisan messaging or contemporary geopolitical aims that risk distorting the past.
This broader reflection frames the discussions around the upcoming commemorations in September, as Beijing readies a high-profile parade that will be weighed against Moscow’s own anniversary celebrations and the broader contest to define the meaning of victory in a world where former wartime allies now navigate rivalries, strategic suspicions, and shifting moral judgments about the past.
Beijing’s 2015 parade snapshot and the memory of defeat
The memory of World War II, and specifically the defeat of Japan, was vividly on display during the 70th anniversary parade in Tiananmen Square, Beijing, on September 3, 2015. The event featured a formal salute by Chinese soldiers to the band and was widely captured in photographs that circulated around the world. The image of disciplined troops in ceremonial dress, the heart of a massive state-led commemoration, served not only to mark a historical milestone but also to project a sense of continuity—the Chinese leadership presenting itself as a steward of national memory and a participant in a lineage of anti-fascist struggle that transcends generations.
That parade was imbued with diplomatic signaling: it demonstrated China’s self-presentation as a country that emerged victorious from the long, painful period of occupation and war, even as it continued to contend with the legacies of earlier conflicts within its own borders. The ceremony was also a reminder that national memory is not static; it evolves as political circumstances change and as nations negotiate their roles on the global stage. The Beijing demonstration of 2015, in particular, underscored China’s willingness to assert its historical narrative in ways that reinforce its contemporary political aims, including its interests in regional security and its place within the evolving architecture of international relations.
In reimagining such commemorations for future anniversaries, Beijing faces questions about how to balance reverence for past sacrifices with the realities of present-day diplomacy. The memory of the war remains a powerful tool for mobilizing domestic unity and projecting national strength abroad, but it also requires careful handling to avoid clashes with other nations’ versions of history. The 2015 example illustrates both the potency and the risk of memory-driven diplomacy: it can unify a domestic audience around a shared narrative while simultaneously inviting international scrutiny over how those memories are employed in contemporary geopolitics.
This backdrop sets the stage for the September commemorations discussed in the current dialogue, where Beijing’s plans are juxtaposed with Moscow’s celebrations and a broader global debate about who should participate, how history should be interpreted, and what the memory of a collective victory means in a world of competing narratives and strategic rivalries.
Moscow’s parade and Beijing’s planned parallel ceremony: timing and symbolism
The geopolitical calendar surrounding World War II anniversaries has increasingly involved coordinated or at least contemporaneous ceremonies in major capitals. The latest Victory Day parade in Moscow, commemorating the 80th anniversary of the German defeat in World War II, is scheduled for May. In the immediate aftermath of Moscow’s celebrations, Beijing is slated to mark the defeat of Japan with its own commemorative parade in September at Tiananmen Square. The juxtaposition of these events—one in Russia’s capital, another in China’s capital—reads as a deliberate demonstration of continuity and divergence in the way two rising powers recall a common past.
The scheduling symmetry is not accidental. It is a message about leadership, memory, and legitimacy: Moscow’s parade emphasizes the enduring role of Russia and the Soviet-era legacy in shaping postwar Europe and the security architecture of the modern age, while Beijing’s forthcoming ceremony foregrounds China’s own narrative of national suffering, resilience, and restoration of national greatness after a long period of upheaval and internal strife. For observers, the sequence signals how the two nations view themselves as heirs to the anti-fascist coalition and as protagonists in a 21st-century geopolitics where multipolarity is increasingly the norm.
Symbolically, the two ceremonies may reflect overlapping themes—heroism, sacrifice, and the successful mobilization of national will—while also highlighting divergent trajectories: the Soviet and, later, Russian interpretation of victory as a foundation for a great power status that seeks to safeguard strategic interests across Eurasia; and the Chinese interpretation of victory as part of a broader story of national revival, modernization, and the pursuit of a stable, prosperous, and internationally respected role in global governance. The September Beijing parade thus stands not merely as a domestic commemoration but as a strategic display of posture and intent within an evolving global order.
In terms of attendees and optics, the combined messages aim to present a respectful remembrance of the past while signaling a willingness to engage with international partners in shaping a future respectful of sovereignty, regional balance, and a shared interest in avoiding new cycles of conflict. The choice of participants, the absence or presence of certain leaders, and the framing of official remarks will all contribute to how these commemorations are interpreted by auditors inside and outside the two nations. As such, the ceremonies become more than ceremonial rituals; they become stages for negotiation, persuasion, and the ongoing construction of historical memory that informs policy choices going forward.
Who will stand on the rostrum? Attendees and the absence of some Western powers
One of the most consequential questions surrounding the September Beijing parade is which leaders will attend on the rostrum and which Western powers will participate in a way that signals endorsement or alignment with the commemorative narrative. In the described scenario, among the “Big Five” victor nations, only the leaders of China and Russia are confirmed or highly likely to be on the rostrum. There are no confirmed plans for the United States, the United Kingdom, or France to attend. This particular arrangement carries significant interpretive weight, because the presence or absence of these nations is read as a direct indication of the mood and direction of international relations at that moment.
A rostrum lineup that centers China and Russia, with limited or no participation from the United States, the United Kingdom, or France, creates a particular kind of symbolism. It underscores a perception of shared memory aligned with Beijing and Moscow while depriving other major Allied powers of a prominent voice in the ceremony. Observers might read this as a signal of the current limits of Western participation in the interpretive framework of the commemoration, possibly reflecting broader tensions in security and trade, competing narratives about responsibility and accountability for the war’s outcomes, and divergent assessments of the postwar order and current geopolitical realities.
From a diplomatic perspective, the absence of Western leaders can be interpreted in two broad ways. On one hand, it could be seen as a prudent move to avoid injecting present-day political disagreements into a historical ceremony, preserving the event as an occasion for reflection rather than a forum for strategic confrontation. On the other hand, some observers might view it as a deliberate demonstration of waning Western influence or as an assertion of a new geopolitical balance in which Beijing and Moscow assume more central roles in shaping global memory and discourse about the war. Either interpretation carries implications for ongoing diplomacy, public perception, and the credibility of commemorations as vehicles for constructive dialogue.
Moreover, the attendance pattern raises questions about how future commemorations will be structured. Will other major powers gradually be invited to participate as part of a broader, more inclusive narrative, or will such events increasingly reflect rival blocs and competitive alignments? The way these questions are resolved will help determine whether the commemorations serve as bridges for reconciliation and mutual understanding or as barometers of geopolitical polarization. In this context, observers also consider the potential for alternative approaches, such as inviting leaders from other countries with ties to the conflict’s history or inviting non-governmental actors who can contribute to a more nuanced and inclusive commemorative program.
The overall effect of attendance choices, ceremony rhetoric, and symbolic gestures will be to shape how the postwar memory is interpreted by the public in both Asia and the broader world. It will influence how 21st-century audiences perceive the legacy of the anti-fascist coalition, what constitutes acceptable commemoration, and how nations strive to balance respect for the past with the practical demands of contemporary security and cooperation. The sequencing and tenor of these decisions will help determine whether the ceremonies reinforce shared values and mutual restraint or become tools for signaling contestation of power and influence in a changing global landscape.
Chinese scholars propose inviting the United States: a controversial idea
Within China’s scholarly and policy circles, a provocative proposal has emerged: inviting the United States to participate in the Beijing commemorations at Tiananmen. Two prominent Chinese opinion leaders—Jin Canrong of Renmin University, and Wang Xiangwei, the former editor of the South China Morning Post—have floated this possibility as a bold break from tradition and a symbolic gesture toward a more inclusive global memory of the war. Their thinking has been echoed by others who argue that inviting the United States at such ceremonies would reflect the shared responsibility for the Allied victory and acknowledge the critical role that the United States played in shaping the postwar order and in the eventual defeat of fascism.
This provocative idea has been highlighted by public commentators and internet analysts, including Wang Zichen in his Pekingnology newsletter, which amplified the notion and sparked discussion across social and media platforms. The debate centers on whether such a gesture would help to rehabilitate or recalibrate historical narratives in a way that fosters better understanding and cooperation between the two nations at a time of rising strategic competition, trade tensions, and ideological differences.
Detractors, however, are quick to point out several cautions. First, inviting the United States could be perceived as a reversal or dilution of the current commemorative frame, in which China and Russia are foregrounded as primary participants in a ceremony of victory and memory. Some critics argue that such a move would conflate past alliances with current political disputes, potentially undermining the solemnity and historical integrity of the ceremony. Second, there is concern about whether a US invitation would be accepted, given the broader climate of suspicion and the political polarization that characterizes parts of American public life and national politics. Third, there is worry about the risk of injecting contemporary geopolitics into a historical event, thereby diminishing the ability to reflect on historical realities and to honor those who suffered during the war without the interference of present-day policy disagreements.
Supporters of the invitation argue that recognizing the shared responsibility of the Allied victory could help reduce lingering tensions and create opportunities for dialogue that might eventually translate into more constructive cooperation on a range of global challenges. They contend that such a gesture would demonstrate a mature, forward-looking approach to history—one that acknowledges how memory can serve as a bridge rather than a barrier to diplomacy. They also point out that a more inclusive ceremony could reinforce the message that the defeat of fascism was a shared achievement, with lessons that remain relevant in confronting contemporary threats to international stability, democracy, and human rights.
In the end, whether the United States would accept such an invitation, and whether Beijing would proceed with it, depends on a complex calculus of strategic considerations, domestic political calculations, and broader regional and global dynamics. The possibility itself, even if unlikely to be realized, signals a willingness to think creatively about the role of memory in international relations and to test whether historical narratives can be leveraged to foster greater understanding in a world characterized by powerful rivalries and ongoing disputes. The discussion thus serves as a reminder that commemorations are not merely about recollection but also about how nations choose to shape their futures through memory, dialogue, and the potential for reconciliation.
The postwar order, victors and victims: revisiting the narratives of 1945
The victory of 1945 is often presented as a triumph of freedom and resilience, yet the postwar order that followed was not a univocal or universally accepted settlement. The Soviet Union, which had borne enormous casualties and contributed decisively to defeating Nazi Germany on the eastern front, emerged from the war with increased leverage and a sense of historical mission. Its leadership saw the victory as a transformative moment that justified a prominent role in designing the new international structure, including security arrangements, political alignments, and the sphere of influence across Europe and beyond. The United States, meanwhile, leveraged its economic strength and technological prowess to shape a postwar order grounded in liberal democratic ideals, a free-market economy, and institutional frameworks designed to prevent the replication of the conditions that had given rise to fascism.
The United Kingdom, France, and China each pursued their own paths in the aftermath of the conflict. The UK faced the enormous challenge of postwar reconstruction and decolonization, while maintaining a position as a key Western ally and a guardian of European security. France, bearing the scars of collaboration and occupation, navigated a difficult reintegration into the allied framework, ultimately contributing to negotiations about the future political landscape in Europe and beyond. China, while recognizing the costs borne during the war against Japan, found itself negotiating internal political divisions, civil wartime legacies, and a complex relationship with the Allied powers that included ties to the United States and, to some extent, Britain and other partners.
A crucial element of this broader narrative is how the memory of the war has been used to justify different political projects. The Soviet Union’s victory is often celebrated as a cornerstone of a socialist international order, while the Western Allies emphasize the liberal-democratic framework and the emergence of a rules-based international system. China’s memory of the war emphasizes its own victimhood under Japanese aggression and its long-standing contribution to anti-fascist resistance, while simultaneously highlighting its eventual role as a rising power seeking to participate in a new global order on its own terms.
The interplay of these narratives has shaped diplomatic dynamics for generations. It explains why commemorations of the war carry weight far beyond the anniversaries themselves. They become opportunities to interpret the past in ways that bolster contemporary political aims, to defend distinct strategic interests, and to argue for or against particular approaches to international cooperation, security governance, and conflict resolution. In this sense, the memory of 1945 is not simply historical recollection; it is a living framework that informs how nations conceive of power, legitimacy, and responsibility in today’s world.
This section is intended to illuminate the complexity of the postwar settlement and to contextualize the current commemorations within a broader history of victors and victims, winners and losers, paths chosen by different nations, and the lasting consequences of those choices for how history is remembered and used in the present.
Contemporary tensions: Putin’s presence, mixed messages, and the risk of politicizing history
A prominent concern surrounding any high-profile commemorative event is how the presence of political leaders with contested legacies affects the ceremony’s tone and meaning. The potential participation of Vladimir Putin at a Beijing parade raises questions about the risks of signaling and the possibility of sending mixed messages about what the memory commemorates and whom it honors. The Soviet Union’s enormous contribution to the eventual defeat of fascism is undeniable, and Russia’s role in ending the war on the European front is indisputable in historical terms. However, the contemporary conduct of the Russian state under Putin—most notably its invasion of Ukraine—complicates the reception of Russia’s involvement in a ceremony that venerates the defeat of fascism.
The core concern is that the ceremony risks becoming entangled with current political agendas, potentially transforming an event that is meant to reflect on a shared struggle against fascism into a platform for signaling support for a national leadership that is widely viewed with suspicion and critical scrutiny on the international stage. Critics argue that the presence of Putin could cast a shadow over the anniversary by associating it with ongoing acts of aggression and a broader pattern of assertive geopolitics that many observers find destabilizing. They contend that a memorial event should center on historical memory and the victims of war rather than on promoting contemporary political narratives that undermine the values that the ceremony is designed to celebrate.
Proponents of inviting or including Russia on such a platform may point to the historical necessity of recognizing all major victors and their sacrifices, arguing that a comprehensive commemoration should incorporate all stakeholders who participated in the Allied victory and contributed to the eventual end of fascism in Europe and Asia. They might argue that a balanced remembrance could help preserve an impartial historical record and create openings for dialogue that could, in turn, reduce tensions and foster a more stable security environment. They could also assert that acknowledging Russia’s role in the war’s outcome is consistent with a spirit of historical accuracy, which can be a foundation for building mutual understanding in an era of strategic competition.
Yet, the risk remains that such attendance could overshadow the ceremony’s purpose, turning memory into a battleground for political legitimacy or domestic political messaging. The tension between honoring past sacrifice and addressing present-day concerns about aggression, sovereignty, and human rights is acute. Organizers and international observers will need to manage these tensions carefully, ensuring that ceremony-focused language, program structure, and guest participation align with the event’s commemorative aims rather than becoming tools for signaling policy positions or endorsing controversial actions by participating states.
In addition, the broader environment—characterized by regional conflicts, rising nationalism in various forms, and ongoing debates about the postwar order—adds layers of complexity to how such a tribute should be conducted. The organizers face the challenge of balancing the need to honor historical memory with the responsibility to avoid amplifying current political divisions. The question of Putin’s presence, and the degree to which it can be reconciled with the event’s memory-centric goals, remains one of the most sensitive and consequential topics surrounding the ceremony, illustrating how history and politics remain entangled in contemporary international life.
The state of the Western powers and the Trump era: fascism rhetoric and leadership
Within the broader discourse, observers note that Western political climates have become a major variable shaping perceptions of the commemorations. In particular, the United States’ domestic political landscape—evolving under leaders who have invoked strong, often polarizing rhetoric—adds a layer of uncertainty to how the war’s memory is interpreted in Washington and beyond. Some commentators ferret out strains of authoritarian or anti-democratic rhetoric in contemporary political leadership, drawing uncomfortable parallels with historical fascist ideologies. While such comparisons are controversial and often contested in terms of historical accuracy, they reflect a broader concern about the fragility of democratic norms and the potential for democratic backsliding, both within the United States and in other parts of the world.
This tension feeds into the debate over whether Western nations should participate more fully in commemorations that also involve states whose present-day policies are controversial. Critics worry that inviting Western leaders to participate in ceremonies that include leaders from Russia or other nations with contested actions could compromise the ceremony’s integrity, converting a historical tribute into a platform for contemporary political arguments. Supporters of broader invitation lists argue that memory should supersede present-day disagreements, emphasizing the universal lessons of anti-fascism and the shared moral obligation to prevent the recurrence of such regimes.
The question of leadership style and political conduct also factors into perceptions of the war’s legacy. In the United States, the political leadership has been characterized by a diversification of democratic norms and rituals—moments of strength and moments of contention—that mirror the broader global discourse about the health of democratic governance. Debates about foreign policy and the use of force, as well as the representation of history in public life, contribute to ongoing discussions about how best to interpret and honor the memory of a war whose consequences are still felt today. These debates inevitably intersect with commemorative ceremonies, raising questions about how to present a unified history in a world where political realities are contested and ever-changing.
The broader takeaway is that the memory of World War II continues to exercise a powerful influence on contemporary politics and diplomacy. The way Western powers engage with commemorations, the choices they make about participation, and the rhetoric employed in political discourse about the war all contribute to shaping the present-day international order. As such, these ceremonies function not only as acts of remembrance but also as tests of national strategies for reconciliation, cooperation, and the management of historical memory in a complicated and multipolar world.
Germany and Japan today: postwar peace and their role in the new era
The postwar trajectories of Germany and Japan are often cited as exemplars of transformative peace and democratic governance after the devastation they caused during the war. Both nations have, in the decades since 1945, rebuilt themselves as stable, law-abiding, and highly cooperative members of the international community. In today’s global context, they are frequently portrayed as responsible actors who have embraced peaceful, diplomatic approaches to regional and international security. This perspective is grounded in observable facts: robust economic systems, strong commitments to the rule of law, close alignment with Western allies, and active participation in international institutions that promote peace, stability, and human rights. Their evolution demonstrates how a nation can reform its political culture, adopt transparent governance, and contribute positively to global norms after experiencing the consequences of aggressive expansion and occupation.
Nevertheless, historical memory continues to shape the way Germany and Japan are seen by other countries, and the legacies of wartime actions still surface in debates about accountability, memory, and responsibility. In Germany, for instance, the process of coming to terms with the Nazi era—a concept that has permeated political and social life—remains central to national identity and public discourse. This ongoing reflection informs how contemporary German policymakers engage with issues of foreign policy, humanitarian concern, and alliances, reinforcing a commitment to democratic principles, alliance-building, and the peace order in Europe. In Japan, the relationship between its wartime past and its contemporary strategic posture remains a topic of debate and analysis within both domestic circles and international forums. Issues related to historical memory, pacifist constitutional commitments, and regional security considerations are part of a broader conversation about how a historically aggressive power can transform into a reliable and peaceful partner in the global system.
From a contemporary vantage point, it is essential to recognize that Germany and Japan are widely regarded as exemplars of postwar stability and responsible state behavior. This perception reinforces the view that peaceful, cooperative approaches can yield tangible benefits in terms of regional security, economic development, and shared prosperity. It also supports arguments about the possibility of a future where former aggressor states—not only Germany and Japan, but any country with a contested past—can adopt a constructive stance that aligns with the broader norms of international law, human rights, and democratic governance. The current moment thus challenges observers to think carefully about how memory, accountability, and peaceful engagement can be reconciled in a manner that ensures both historical acknowledgment and practical cooperation in a world that remains deeply interconnected and complex.
In summarizing, while Germany and Japan are often highlighted as successful cases of reform and peaceful integration into the postwar order, ongoing dialogues about memory, responsibility, and regional security continue to shape their public personas and foreign policies. The way these two nations are perceived in the context of commemorations—both by those who lived through the war and by younger generations who inherit its lessons—reflects the broader arc of transformation that has defined their postwar identities. This perspective helps illuminate how the legacy of the war continues to inform decisions about alliances, peacebuilding, and the responsibilities of powerful nations in an ever-evolving global landscape.
Conclusion
The September commemorations in Beijing, framed by Moscow’s parallel anniversary celebrations, sit at the intersection of history, memory, and contemporary geopolitics. They raise enduring questions about who writes and controls the narrative of the war’s victory, how inclusive such narratives should be, and what responsibilities emerge for today’s leaders as they reflect on the past. The debate over whether the United States should be invited to participate speaks to deeper tensions about shared memory and the future of international cooperation. It also reveals a willingness among some Chinese scholars to consider bolder, more inclusive approaches to memorializing the war’s outcome in a way that transcends present-day political disagreements.
At the same time, the potential presence of Vladimir Putin—whether as a guest or a participant in some form—serves as a reminder of the complicated and often fraught relationship between history and current politics. The memory of World War II should be a source of moral clarity and a foundation for cooperative security, not a platform for signaling or validating aggressive actions in the present era. The risk of turning such commemorations into demonstrations of partisan power underscores the need for careful, principled leadership that keeps the focus on honoring the millions who suffered and sacrificed during the conflict.
Ultimately, these ceremonies will contribute to the ongoing conversation about how nations remember the past while navigating the realities of today’s diverse, multipolar world. They offer an opportunity to reaffirm commitments to peace, stability, and human dignity, even as the particular shapes of alliances and rivalries evolve. The challenge is to preserve the integrity of historical memory, to avoid weaponizing it for contemporary political ends, and to use the lessons of 1945 to inform a future in which dialogue, mutual respect, and restraint help prevent the recurrence of the very forces that history teaches us must be overcome.
