China’s cinemas have recently been filled with new “anti-Japanese” productions such as The Nanjing Photo Studio and 731. Officially, these films are promoted as efforts to “remember history.” In practice, however, they serve a far more political purpose: to channel public frustration outward and distract from the mounting troubles within.
Behind the patriotic slogans lies a society increasingly anxious about its own future. Youth unemployment has reached record highs, wages are stagnating, and the dream of home ownership or marriage feels ever more distant for a generation that once believed in prosperity. Confronted with these pressures, Beijing has reached for a familiar tool — nationalism.
The Chinese Communist Party understands that economic hardship breeds discontent, and discontent can easily turn into dissent. By reviving historical animosity toward Japan, the state offers citizens a target for their anger that is both safe and convenient. It is far less risky for the government to have young people rage at a foreign “enemy” than to question the system that has failed them.
Such tactics are not new, nor uniquely Chinese. Yet in today’s China, the intensity of the propaganda has grown, with online influencers and state media amplifying nationalistic narratives. The result is a society that confuses anger for strength — and patriotism for obedience.
No amount of cinematic outrage will create jobs, raise wages, or make daily life more affordable. The louder the calls to “never forget national humiliation,” the more they drown out conversations about inequality, unemployment, and the fading sense of opportunity.
True patriotism is not measured by how loudly one shouts, but by the courage to face uncomfortable truths. China’s greatest challenge today is not an external threat — it is the refusal to confront its own crises.
Leave a Reply