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Paper Tigers

Original illustration by Orla Maxwell'27

On September 3, 2025, trumpets sounded as Chinese President Xi Jinping’s limousine cruised through Beijing alongside thousands of soldiers for the 80th anniversary of World War II. This grandiose display of synchronized troops, hulking vehicles, and boundless military capability is not the first time that China has used national celebrations to demonstrate martial prowess. However, this year’s parade stands apart from the historical pomp and circumstance of previous celebrations in one way: For the first time, China revealed systems that can strike the continental United States with a nuclear warhead from air, land, and sea—the so-called nuclear triad. With this public show of atomic force, Beijing demonstrated China’s nuclear modernization. 

Western media commentary and reactions to the parade have emphasized the weapons’ specifications. But the significance of China’s self-codification as a full nuclear triad power and willingness to flaunt its new status goes far beyond its tactical military implications. The 2025 Victory Day parade was not just about showing off missiles. It reflects a deeper transformation: Beijing now treats nuclear weapons not only as a defensive shield but also as a source of coercive leverage in its broader search for global power. By elevating its arsenal from secrecy to spectacle, China showed that it views the bomb as both a guarantor of survival and a cornerstone of ambition.

Chinese leaders have long espoused beliefs in the limited utility of nuclear weapons and a contempt for imperial powers attempting to use them to strong-arm weaker countries. In 1946, Mao Zedong, the founding architect of China’s nuclear strategy, famously declared atomic bombs to be “paper tigers” without much actual power, a statement aimed at downplaying American nuclear threats, which Mao resented. In 1958, Mao amended his theory, stating that atomic bombs are “tigers that can devour people when others have it and you don’t,” reflecting a realization that to stand up to nuclear-armed bullies (the United States, in China’s eyes), you must also have nuclear weapons.

China successfully tested its first nuclear weapon in 1964 and subsequently declared that it would never be the first to use nuclear weapons—a declaratory policy it maintains. A no-first-use policy and a relatively small arsenal constituted a posture of ‘minimum deterrence,’ where a state maintains just enough nuclear capability to deter another state from using nuclear weapons against it. Furthermore, China previously sought to limit the political presence of its weapons program both domestically and internationally. For most of its time as a nuclear-armed state, Beijing has made concerted efforts to downplay its status and the role of these weapons in its foreign policy. In contrast, the United States has always reserved the right to use nuclear weapons first and has threatened nuclear attacks on countries without nuclear weapons. Thus, China has historically portrayed itself as a responsible nuclear actor, touting its limited arsenal and security assurances to non-nuclear weapons states in contrast to the arms-racing, saber-rattling, hegemony-seeking United States. 

However, after over 50 years of unchanging posture, something changed. It is hard to overstate the magnitude of China’s nuclear policy transformation, which began around 2019. Its nuclear stockpile has grown from 200300 to an estimated 600 warheads in the past six years, which makes it the fastest growing nuclear arsenal in the world. In 2021, open source researchers revealed that China was constructing over 200 new missile silos in northwestern China. In addition to quantitative buildup, China is fielding new capabilities and systems to strengthen all three legs of its nuclear triad. 

The speed, scale, and breadth of the buildup makes it clear that this change transcends a retrofitting of the existing arsenal. It is a Chinese nuclear renaissance. Minimum deterrence is no longer the name of the game: One does not need a fractional orbital hypersonic delivery system to assure mutual destruction. China’s previous arsenal had to be capable of surviving a first strike and launching a retaliatory attack—but never more. While this modernization has been on international observers’ radars for several years, China has consistently denied its buildup to protect its reputation as a responsible nuclear actor.

It is striking to watch a country that was once proud of its limited arsenal now parade columns of nuclear-capable ballistic missiles through the streets of its capital. Notably, the nuclear capabilities showcased only included weapons capable of reaching the continental United States. China is known to have several other short and intermediate-range missiles, such as the DongFeng 26 and 27, that were deliberately not displayed. Analysis by the Center for Strategic and International Studies suggests that this is a signal to the United States that its arsenal is meant to deter the United States from intervening in Taiwan. There has never been much doubt that US intervention in a crisis over Taiwan is the most likely scenario in which China would make a nuclear threat, and US intelligence undoubtedly knew that China possessed these capabilities long before the parade. However, the use of such a high-profile event to convey willingness to use these missiles in a non-defensive context reflects a much greater willingness to engage in nuclear coercion than before.

By shining a light on its new nuclear weapons, Beijing has darkened the nuclear shadow over its international politics. “The power to hurt is bargaining power,” wrote Thomas Schelling, and a state that has greater power to hurt might feel more confident in its ability to coerce others. China has embraced its status as a nuclear power, using it to generate leverage for its political aims—a sharp break from Mao’s thinking. For decades, China’s political strength in the nuclear realm had come from claiming restraint, but now it seeks to draw power from the same paper tigers in ways it once renounced.

The implications of this shift will be felt for the rest of this new nuclear age. Whether China’s nuclear weapons will actually be useful for achieving its political objectives, or even what the scope of those political objectives is, is still up for debate. However, several things are clear. First, nuclear coercion is inherently risky, and a China more willing to use such threats raises the overall risk of nuclear conflict. Second, China is involved in several potential conflicts where its political interests are great enough that it might consider nuclear threats. Last, China’s arsenal looks primed to grow alongside that of the United States, following a post-Cold War trend of weakening US arms control. 

Whether or not China is an arms-racing, saber-rattling, hegemony-seeking power is yet to be seen. Nonetheless, this very fundamental shift in its nuclear philosophy will shape China’s international relations. How China plans to use its nuclear strength will matter for the status of Taiwan, the potential proliferation of Japan and South Korea, the various territorial disputes with the Philippines and nuclear-armed India, and for US-China relations. Nuclear weapons are now a key piece of Beijing’s play for power, and how others respond will shape the new nuclear age.

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