China’s Defence Ministry Calls for “Blood Lessons” to Stay Fresh Ahead of WWII 80th Anniversary

The phrase, rendered in Chinese as “血的教训不容忘却,” has quickly become a trending topic on China’s social media platform Weibo. Users have echoed Jiang’s call, sharing the Ministry’s video and posting supportive comments that blend patriotism with a collective vow to guard against historical revisionism. The sentiment is unmistakable: a nation still grappling with the scars of World War II is intent on making sure those scars remain part of the public consciousness.

Jiang’s remarks arrived alongside a wave of new cultural productions that revisit the Second World War. Two recent films have been highlighted in state media. “Nanjing Photo Studio” dramatizes the courage of ordinary civilians during the Nanjing Massacre, while “Dongji Island” tells the little‑known story of Chinese fishermen who rescued British prisoners of war from Japanese forces. Both movies are framed as tools of “patriotic education,” offering vivid, emotional reminders of the suffering inflicted by Japanese militarism and the heroic resistance that followed.

The Ministry’s statement is more than a historic footnote; it is a strategic piece of China’s broader political narrative. By invoking “blood lessons,” officials reinforce the Chinese Communist Party’s claim to legitimacy as the force that ultimately liberated the nation from foreign aggression. The language dovetails with a renewed emphasis on “national security” and “defense readiness,” signaling that the memory of past wars underpins current policy decisions on military modernization, defense spending, and the tightening of strategic industries.

Analysts note that this rhetorical thrust has concrete implications for China’s defence sector. The call to remember wartime vulnerabilities fuels domestic investment in advanced weaponry, aerospace technology, and cybersecurity. The government’s push for self‑reliance in critical supply chains—semiconductors, rare‑earth minerals, and high‑tech manufacturing—finds a convenient justification in the historical narrative: past dependence on foreign powers left China exposed, so now the nation must safeguard its own capabilities.

The message also reverberates in the sphere of public discourse. By framing the remembrance of Japanese war crimes as an unequivocal duty, authorities subtly shape what can be discussed in the public arena. The official narrative leaves little room for alternative interpretations of the wartime period, encouraging self‑censorship and aligning media coverage with state‑approved history. In practice, this means that films, textbooks, and online commentary are expected to echo the same themes of sacrifice, resistance, and vigilance.

Public reaction on Weibo confirms the resonance of the Ministry’s call. Posts bearing the hashtag for the “blood lessons” message have amassed millions of views, with comments ranging from personal recollections of family members who lived through the war to broader affirmations of national unity. The tone is overwhelmingly supportive, reflecting a prevailing sense of pride in China’s historic triumphs and a shared determination to prevent any attempts at historical distortion.

In short, the Ministry of National Defense’s reiteration that “the bitter lessons learned in blood must not be forgotten” serves multiple purposes: it cements a patriotic historical narrative, legitimizes the Party’s leadership, justifies a continued push for military and industrial self‑sufficiency, and galvanises public sentiment ahead of a milestone anniversary. As China marks eight decades since the end of World War II, the intertwining of remembrance, policy, and popular culture illustrates how the past remains a powerful instrument in shaping the nation’s present and future trajectory.