China's foreign policy embraces a discourse of victimhood to reinforce its self-image as a peace-loving power. This does not resonate with the Philippines and for obvious reasons.

China marked the 80th anniversary of its World War II victory recently with a grand military parade in Beijing. On display was not only military hardware but also China's view of the world, reflected in the foreign leaders who joined President Xi Jinping on the viewing stand. Russian President Vladimir Putin, North Korean leader Kim Jong Un, and Iranian President Masoud Pezeshkian were among the most prominent. Southeast Asian neighbors from East Timor to Indonesia sent leaders or senior officials -- except for Thailand and the Philippines, both treaty allies of the United States.

Our nation's absence is telling. Thirty-eight countries, mostly from the developing world, were represented at the parade. That the Philippines which, like China, is also a victim of Japanese aggression in World War II, was not among them underscores how far bilateral ties have drifted.

So what does China's Victory Day parade mean for us, when we once fought together but are now treated as outsiders? I share three key insights on Philippine-China relations.

In his address at the Victory Day commemoration, Chinese President Xi Jinping cast today's world as standing once more at a crossroads of history. Humanity, he declared, faces a stark choice: peace or war, cooperation or confrontation, win-win outcomes or zero-sum rivalry. On this stage, he positioned China and its people as firmly on the "right side of history" -- a great nation that will never be intimidated by bullies, yet is committed to the progress of human civilization.

The message was unmistakable. Xi's framing reduces global politics to a moral contest between those who uphold peace and those who sow conflict, between the bullied and the bullies. In this vision, China stands with the forces of peace, while the West -- and by extension US allies -- are cast as aggressors.

Looking at the shared history and suffering of China and the Philippines, the "othering" that now defines our national discourses underscores both the depth of today's rift and a potential opening for reconciliation. Our peoples once fought side by side. During the Japanese occupation, Chinese immigrants in the Philippines organized guerrilla groups that joined Filipino resistance forces. Even today, both nations continue to demand justice for the comfort women who endured unspeakable abuse under Japanese rule.

Indeed, this points to the paradox of our ties, that while disputes harden us against each other, shared sacrifice still points to how we might coexist.

In the Philippines, our memory of World War II tends to center on the Western Allies led by the United States as victors and saviors from a foe-turned-ally. China's grand parade this week is about history but from a different lens: an attempt to "rightsize" the narrative to reflect its own immense sacrifices and, therefore, the rightful outcomes its people believe they deserve.

For Beijing, the war did not begin in 1939 with Hitler's invasion of Poland or in 1941 with Japan's strike on Pearl Harbor. It began on September 18, 1931, with the Japanese invasion of Manchuria. That distinction matters. It elevates China's victimhood and casts the struggle against Japan as central to the global anti-fascist fight, placing Chinese suffering and resistance at the heart of the postwar order.

From this perspective, the fruits of victory were defined not just on battlefields but, crucially, in documents like the Cairo and Potsdam Declarations. While not war-ending treaties themselves, these declarations called on Japan to return territories it had seized from China and confined postwar Japan to limits set by the Allied victors. To this day, Beijing insists on their enduring legal and moral weight. They underpin China's claims over Taiwan and its expansive position in the East and South China Seas.

China's nostalgia for its war memory is therefore more than commemoration. It fuels a conviction that today's territorial disputes are not just contemporary quarrels but a great disrespect to the sacrifices of the Chinese during the World War II. For Beijing, the war never truly ended -- its outcomes remain contested, and its legacy still demands recognition.

From the synchronized march of goose-stepping soldiers to the display of the Dongfeng-61 nuclear missile capable of circumnavigating the globe, the parade also served as Beijing's stage to showcase its military prowess amid what it sees as mounting threats. Yet, for China, the commemoration is framed as proof of its steadfast commitment to the noble cause of peace. Despite the unmistakable military flex, Beijing insists it remains devoted to preserving the postwar order for which it claims to have sacrificed so much.

Of course, peace rhetoric is nothing new; every great power in history has claimed it. What makes Beijing's narrative distinct is its claim to have been victimized alongside the rest of Asia and the developing world, its territories long subject to uncertainty and foreign contest. As my research has shown, China's foreign policy embraces a discourse of victimhood not only to reinforce its self-image as a peace-loving power, but, more importantly, to set itself apart from the Western powers it so deeply resents.

This solidarity does not resonate with us and for obvious reasons. In Manila, daily tensions in the West Philippine Sea are proof of the opposite and validations of our strategic choices. But in Beijing's eyes, these same incidents short of war demonstrate restraint, their proof of a continued commitment to peace. At best, China pushes the boundaries little by little, testing how far it can go without triggering outright conflict.

Here lies the problem. Philippine-China relations is defined not only by an imbalance of power, but by a deeper mismatch in how we appreciate each other's positions and actions. Beijing sees our persistent struggles as needless provocations spurred by American prodding. We, in turn, view their encroachments into our EEZs as acts of bullying and colonialism, stripped of any human emotional logic.

Neither side is likely to adjust its worldview anytime soon to accommodate these nuances. But recognizing this imbalance is a first step. Without that honesty, the trust so badly needed to manage Philippine-China relations will remain elusive.

For China, this September marks not only victory but also a widening divide with a West it sees as betraying the postwar order. For the Philippines, this means navigating an ever more difficult position amid Beijing's assertiveness and triumphalism. Yet, despite the rift, our shared wartime struggles remind us that both nations still share a stake in preserving the hard-won peace our ancestors fought for. - Rappler.com