A Tankless Affair

Several Western news outlets reported that Moscow's scaled-back Victory Day parade this year implies cracks in Russian strength. That may be a step too far, but the May 9, 2026, festivities certainly felt... weird. Check out a full video here.

This May marked the 81st anniversary of Russia's victory in the Second World War; last year, as the 80th, called for an especially grand ceremony. This year, though, things were much quieter: not a single piece of military hardware was to be seen, only marching bodies of troops. But that's just the start.

First, the guest list was much shorter than in 2025. Whereas dignitaries from around the world, not least the guest of honor, Chinese president Xi Jinping, dotted the stands last year, this year, Russian president Vladimir Putin entered with his old buddy, Belarusian president Alexander Lukashenko. Joining Putin in the stand were, of course, a handful of elderly veterans, as well as representatives of fellow Orthodox Slavic state Serbia; the presidents of Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, and Laos; officials from a couple African nations; and, for the first time, a North Korean delegation, recognized for their contributions to Russia's ongoing War on Ukraine. Indeed, a contingent of the DPRK's troops dutifully marched through Red Square, toting silver AK-47s.

Putin's speech, the cornerstone of the event, was also unique this year. Assertions that it was Russia primarily, if not alone, that defeated the Nazi invaders are pretty standard; however, in this year's speech, Putin tied the Second World War conflict to today's war in Ukraine, calling for the whole of Russian society to unify in loyalty, just as the Soviets did in the 1940s, to dismantle aggressive enemies. The theme hints at the overarching continuity to history that Putin reinforces by recalling the past and tying it to the present in patriotically-stirring ways.

The lack of tanks was disappointing to our inner fourteen-year-old; Victory Day is always a great time to see some cool modern (by Russian standards) military gear alongside rattling T-34s. Officials blamed their absence on the possibility of Ukrainian attacks. The alternative presented was not nearly as cool as the real thing: a set of pre-recorded video greetings from different branches of the Russian Armed Forces, from troops in foxholes fighting in Ukraine to fighter pilots to drone operators to a submarine captain. While inventive, it's much cooler to see the nuclear missile trucks being trundled through Moscow rather than watching a video, through a video, of them being driven through a forest.

In short: Victory Day this year was little to write home about, but that little was significant. It is unlikely this represents a chink in Putin's armor, that the Kremlin is starting to shift underneath him. Instead, it felt more about sloppiness and slapdash than something more sinister.

Who knows what next year holds?