China’s State Media Weaponizes WWII Narrative to Discredit Taiwan’s DPP Ahead of 80th‑Anniversary Commemoration

At its core the slogan is factually correct. The DPP was founded in Taiwan in 1986, more than four decades after the Second Sino‑Japanese War (1937‑1945) – the conflict known in China as the War of Resistance – had ended. During the war the political landscape of “China” was dominated by two forces: the Nationalist government of the Kuomintang (KMT), led by Chiang Kai‑shek, and the Chinese Communist Party (CCP), under Mao Zedong. Both parties entered a tenuous united front after 1937, pooling resources and manpower to fend off the Japanese invasion. The war saw the mobilization of millions of soldiers, guerrillas, and civilian volunteers across the mainland and, after 1945, in Taiwan, where former Japanese colonial officials and local elites were integrated into the Republic of China’s administration.

Chinese state media have seized on that historical reality to argue that Taiwan’s current leadership has “forgotten its roots” and is “erasing the anti‑Japanese sacrifices of Taiwanese compatriots.” A Weibo post quoting the Beijing Daily warned that the “Taiwan independence” ideology championed by the DPP “originated from Japanese forces after World War II” and that the party’s attempts to “de‑Sinicize” education and public memory amount to a “betrayal of the nation” and a “disgrace to the struggle and sacrifice of the entire nation.” The tone is deliberately emotive, invoking patriotic imagery of a united Chinese front against foreign aggression and positioning the DPP’s push for formal independence as an affront to that collective past.

The timing of the campaign is significant. Since the DPP won its first presidential election in 2016, its leaders – most notably President Tsai Ing‑wen – have emphasized a distinct Taiwanese identity and have taken steps to reinterpret the island’s wartime history. In Taiwan, textbooks now highlight the experience of Taiwanese people under Japanese rule and downplay the narrative of the island’s “retrocession” to China in 1945. Critics on the mainland argue that such revisions dilute the memory of a war that, in Chinese historiography, was a unified national endeavor. A survey of recent Taiwanese public opinion shows a modest decline in approval for the DPP’s policies, but the party still enjoys a solid base that sees a separate Taiwanese identity as essential for democratic survival.

The phrase’s spread on platforms such as Weibo illustrates how historical debates are being weaponized in today’s cross‑strait rivalry. Commentators note that the sentiment behind “全中国抗日时还没有民进党” is less about the literal absence of a political party during the 1930s and 1940s, and more about delegitimizing the DPP’s current narrative. By emphasizing that “the whole of China resisted Japan” without any mention of a Taiwanese independent party, officials aim to reinforce the notion that Taiwan has always been, and should remain, an inseparable part of the Chinese nation‑state.

While the slogan is rooted in an indisputable chronological fact, its political utility lies in framing contemporary policy disputes as a moral test of historical fidelity. For mainland audiences, the message is clear: any attempt by Taiwan’s ruling party to distance itself from the collective memory of the anti‑Japanese war is tantamount to rewriting history for partisan gain. For observers outside the region, the episode underscores how memory politics can be mobilized to serve present‑day geopolitical aims, especially as Beijing tightens its narrative control in the run‑up to a milestone commemoration.

The episode also highlights the enduring complexity of Taiwan’s wartime legacy. During the Japanese occupation (1895‑1945), many Taiwanese served in Japanese units, while others suffered under colonial repression. After Japan’s surrender, the Republic of China assumed control of the island, and Taiwanese soldiers fought alongside mainland forces against the Japanese in the final phases of the war. The memory of those contributions is contested both within Taiwan and on the mainland, where it is often subsumed under a broader “All‑China” storyline that minimizes regional particularities.

In the end, “全中国抗日时还没有民进党” is less a scholarly footnote than a rallying cry in a contemporary information war. It reminds readers that history is never purely about dates and facts; it is a living arena in which symbols, slogans, and selective recollections are deployed to shape present identities and future policies. As the 80th anniversary of China’s victory over Japan approaches, the phrase will likely continue to reverberate, illustrating how the past remains a powerful lever in the ongoing contest over Taiwan’s political destiny.