The parade, marking the anniversary of the founding of the Korean Workers' Party, featured marching columns of troops, missile transporters, and newly promoted officials standing shoulder to shoulder under floodlit skies. Supreme Leader Kim Jong-un presided over the ceremony but delivered no public speech, raising further questions about his current status and strategy.
The event comes amid deepening economic hardship caused by prolonged international sanctions, ongoing food shortages, and the regime’s continued isolation following border closures and tightened restrictions on foreign aid. At the same time, tensions with South Korea and the United States have intensified following a series of provocative missile tests and hostile rhetoric from Pyongyang.
Despite these pressures, the parade was designed to project strength and unity, with state media declaring it a “glorious demonstration of the eternal leadership of the great Party and the invincible might of our armed forces.”
Observers noted a number of significant absences and appearances during the event. General Ri Yong-gil, a previously prominent military figure, was not seen, fueling speculation of a recent purge or sidelining. In contrast, Kim Yo-jong, the leader’s influential sister, stood prominently at the front of the reviewing stand, further cementing her growing political role.
“The parade was a classic move by the regime: a display of control and stability meant to distract from very real and worsening problems inside the country,” said Dr. Lim Sung-hwan, a North Korea analyst at the Korea Institute for Defense Analyses.
Satellite imagery reviewed by international monitoring groups suggests the regime diverted significant resources to prepare for the event, including troop mobilization and material transport, despite signs of fuel shortages and power outages in other parts of the country.
Analysts believe the display was not only for domestic consumption but also aimed at a foreign audience — particularly China and Russia — both of which have offered limited economic and diplomatic support amid Pyongyang's growing international isolation.
“It’s a message: ‘We are still here. We are still powerful,’” said Jenny Town, director of the 38 North program at the Stimson Center. “But beneath the surface, the cracks are visible.”
The regime has not released an official casualty estimate from recent flooding that affected large parts of North Hamgyong Province, nor has it acknowledged reports of growing unrest among rural populations suffering from acute food shortages.
With no signs of policy change or diplomatic outreach, experts fear the regime will continue to rely on tightly controlled pageantry and threats of military escalation to maintain internal cohesion and external leverage.
For now, the parade serves as both a mask and a mirror — hiding North Korea’s vulnerabilities while reflecting the enduring grip of its leadership.