By Felicia LI
As China commemorates the 80th anniversary of its victory in the War of Resistance Against Japanese Aggression, a new "Patriotic Education Base for Hong Kong and Macao Youth" was unveiled at the foot of Beijing's Lugou Bridge—home to the historic site where the full-scale war began in 1937. This marks the first such base established by Hong Kong in mainland China and is being hailed as a milestone in patriotic education for youth.
But while the symbolism is powerful and the intention commendable, we must ask: What kind of history are we trying to teach, and what kind of citizens are we trying to cultivate?
There's no doubt that the anti-Japanese war was a defining moment in modern Chinese history. The bravery, sacrifice, and collective struggle of the Chinese people deserve to be remembered and honored. But historical memory must go beyond emotional ceremony and righteous indignation.
It is easy to fall into a trap that patriotic education is reduced to a formula: trauma plus pride equals loyalty. Museums become shrines; documentaries become propaganda films; commemorations become spectacles. Yet, critical thinking, moral reflection, and historical complexity are often missing.
If we are to teach young people the true meaning of "Never Forget National Humiliation," we must also teach them to ask difficult questions:
"How did China fall into such vulnerability at the time? What can we learn from the political and social failures that preceded the war? How do we prevent history from repeating itself—not just militarily, but politically and morally?"
Without such reflection, patriotism risks becoming blind allegiance, and history risks becoming a tool of manipulation.
The establishment of a patriotic education base for Hong Kong youth carries layered significance. In the post-2019 era, identity politics in Hong Kong has been redefined. National education is no longer just about understanding the past; it has become a connected tool for youth to understand the past and future of our country. Allowing young people from Hong Kong and Macao to deepen their understanding of the nation's history and to have a clearer sense of the mission they must carry forward in developing the motherland.
Obviously, identity recognition cannot be imposed; it must be nurtured. It cannot grow in the shadow of suspicion or coercion. It grows through trust, dialogue, and the space to question.
The upcoming military parade in Beijing on September 3, featuring the latest generation of domestically developed weaponry, is another centerpiece of this anniversary. It is meant to showcase not only military strength, but national progress and technological self-sufficiency.
Indeed, a strong military can deter aggression. But military parades do not build moral legitimacy. Guns can protect a nation's borders, but they cannot define its soul. The real strength of a nation lies in the confidence of its people, the resilience of its institutions, and the courage to face uncomfortable truths.
If history teaches us anything, it is that true strength lies not in revenge, but in renewal. China's rise has been built not on retribution, but on reform, discipline, and an unshakable commitment to never again be humiliated. The parade is a symbol—but history is not a show.
As some countries attempt to whitewash their wartime atrocities, China's insistence on remembering its past is justified. But memory must not be weaponized. To teach history is not to teach hatred. To remember is not to resent—it is to understand, to prevent, to heal.
Patriotic education must not become a container of curated narratives, but a crucible for critical thought. If the goal is to foster a generation of young people who are confident, capable, and committed to building a better China, then we must give them the full truth of history—not just its victories, but its wounds.
The question is not whether young people know their history, but whether they understand its meaning. Not whether they feel pride, but whether they feel responsibility.
To truly honor the legacy of those who fought and died, we must ensure that history is not reduced to ritual, that education does not become indoctrination, and that patriotism does not come at the cost of independent thought.
Only then can history light the path forward—not just for Hong Kong youth, but for all of China.
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