This year’s Victory Day in Moscow felt diminished — not the triumphant, heavily staged demonstration of force the holiday has become, but a restrained, cautious ceremony. Traditionally on May 9 the Kremlin uses the Red Square parade to celebrate the Soviet defeat of Nazi Germany and to display Russia’s military hardware and resolve. This time, much of that spectacle was absent.
The most striking difference was the lack of heavy weaponry. Tanks, missile launchers and intercontinental systems were not on show for the first time in years. Large screens surrounded the square instead, looping footage of equipment in Ukraine or at distant test ranges. Fighter jets still roared overhead trailing the national colors, but the streets below felt unusually sparse. What was meant to signal dominance instead suggested prudence.
The change had an obvious cause: Ukrainian drones have increasingly struck deep into Russian territory, hitting oil depots, airbases and other infrastructure hundreds of kilometres from the front. In the run-up to the parade, a drone damaged a high-end residential complex in Moscow, prompting public admissions from the Kremlin that the “current operational situation” required a rethink. Mobile internet across parts of the city was cut — a move aimed at disrupting drone navigation — and heavy security cordons sealed off Red Square and surrounding streets.
There was an ironic edge to the effort: a day designed to affirm national strength revealed how vulnerable the capital had become. A successful strike during the march would have carried enormous symbolic weight, implying that Moscow itself was no longer beyond reach.
The geopolitical context added awkwardness. The parade coincided with a short, three-day ceasefire brokered by Donald Trump, framed by him as a step toward peace. Kyiv responded differently: President Volodymyr Zelensky issued a tongue-in-cheek decree effectively “allowing” Russia to celebrate, even giving the coordinates of Red Square and saying the area was temporarily off-limits to Ukrainian strikes — a joke Russian officials dismissed, but one that underscored a sharp reality. The country that invaded expecting a quick victory now depended on Ukrainian forbearance to hold its most sacred public ritual.
Foreign presence at the parade reflected Russia’s altered standing. A contingent of North Korean soldiers marched in Red Square, a public sign of a partnership that would have been unthinkable years ago; Pyongyang is believed to have sent significant numbers to support operations in Ukraine. Meanwhile, last year’s prominent guests were largely absent: Xi Jinping did not attend, and the visiting delegations were mostly from Belarus, Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan and Laos.
Officials conceded, perhaps inadvertently, that military hardware was missing because it was needed at the front. The conflict has now outlasted the Soviet campaign against Nazi Germany, and Western estimates put Russian casualties, killed and wounded combined, above one million.
Economic pressures are mounting at home: inflation, tightening sanctions and a widening budget deficit are squeezing ordinary Russians. Beneath the official pageantry, public frustration is growing. Rather than reassuring, this year’s Victory Day laid bare the cumulative costs of a war with no clear end and a government increasingly focused on containment and survival.