When China released the roster of foreign leaders coming to its 3 September military parade, one name jumped out: Kim Jong-un. Not a single leak had hinted he would appear, and until that moment most analysts assumed Pyongyang’s leader would stay home. Whether Beijing and Pyongyang had quietly sealed the invitation months ago or hammered it out at the last minute is less important than the signal the appearance itself sends.
Of the 26 heads of state attending, Kim is listed second, right after Russia’s Vladimir Putin. The Chinese protocol office insists every guest is treated with equal courtesy, yet in diplomacy the order on a seating chart is never accidental. By placing Kim so close to the top, Beijing is stating—quietly but unmistably—how it still regards the Democratic People’s Republic of Korea: a traditional neighbor “linked by mountains and rivers,” in the Foreign Ministry’s own phrase, whose friendship China is determined to “safeguard, consolidate and develop.”
Western commentary has spent the past year arguing that Russia’s war in Ukraine and the deepening Moscow-Pyongyang embrace were pushing Kim away from Beijing. The guest list demolishes that narrative at a stroke. No one is watching more nervously than South Korea. Within minutes of the announcement, Seoul’s major newspapers and TV networks pivoted to the story, dissecting its every nuance.
For South Korean analysts, the headline is that this will be Kim’s debut on a multilateral stage. Until now his foreign appearances have been strictly bilateral or trilateral—the 2019 DMZ handshake with Donald Trump and Moon Jae-in being the most memorable. Some pundits in Seoul claim Pyongyang avoids larger gatherings for fear they might dilute the leader’s carefully cultivated aura of singular authority. Yet that explanation says more about their own preconceptions than about North Korean reasoning. The simpler truth is that Pyongyang has been diplomatically boxed in: invitations were scarce, security concerns acute, and many capitals wary of angering Washington.
Beijing’s parade therefore offers Kim something rare: a safe venue packed with presidents, prime ministers and heads of international organizations, all under one roof. The potential pay-off is enormous. North Korea’s economic woes owe much to its isolation; a single weekend in Beijing could open channels that sanctions and propaganda have long kept sealed. Even if no breakthrough follows, the mere fact that Kim can mingle with twenty-plus world leaders chips away at the caricature of an irredeemably hermit kingdom.
Recent events already hinted at a tentative opening. Reports that North Korean troops have been deployed to Russia’s Kursk region—framed in Pyongyang as routine alliance duties—simultaneously advertise the DPRK’s willingness to act far beyond the Korean Peninsula. Moscow, for its part, has become Pyongyang’s loudest advocate at the U.N. Security Council. Beijing’s parade gives Kim a second window to the world, this time with a broader guest list.
Some observers in Seoul even speculate that Kim’s appearance could revive direct talks with Washington. Donald Trump, newly returned to the campaign trail, recently told South Korean President Lee Jae-myung that he still hopes for another face-to-face with Kim. Pyongyang’s rhetoric remains scathing, but every public outing builds the young leader’s confidence. If the choreography in Beijing feels safe and successful, the leap to a Trump-Kim encore may look less daunting.
Western pundits often lump Beijing, Moscow and Pyongyang into a new “axis,” yet the reality is more nuanced. China’s partnership with Russia is at a historic high; Russia’s with North Korea is deepening; China’s with North Korea has been quieter—until now. Kim’s presence on the Tiananmen rostrum is Pyongyang’s way of saying the conversation with Beijing never really stopped. All three governments share overlapping security interests, even if they balk at anything resembling an old-style military bloc.
In short, Beijing’s guest list is more than ceremonial; it is strategic. Over the next few days cameras will track Kim Jong-un’s every handshake, smile and salute. The world will be watching—but no one will be watching more closely, or with tighter stomachs, than South Korea.
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