Why Does Rhode Island Still Celebrate Victory Day? A Holiday Out of Step With Modern Values
Let’s get straight to the point: Rhode Island is the last state standing in the 21st century still celebrating Victory Day, a holiday commemorating Japan’s 1945 surrender to end World War II. To me, this isn’t just a quirky historical footnote—it’s a revealing mirror held up to America’s unresolved relationship with its wartime legacy. Why does this tiny state cling to a holiday that others have abandoned, renamed, or quietly forgotten? The answer says more about us than we might admit.
The Curious Case of a Lone Holiday
Factually speaking, Rhode Island’s observance marks 78 years of continuity—a tradition rooted in its deep naval history. But here’s what fascinates me: this isn’t just about nostalgia. It’s about identity. For a state that hosted key military installations during the war, Victory Day isn’t merely a calendar event; it’s a badge of regional pride. Yet while other states like Montana and Arkansas once celebrated similar days—and phased them out—Rhode Island’s refusal to follow suit feels defiant. Personally, I think it reflects a broader American tension: the struggle between honoring sacrifice and confronting the moral ambiguities of victory.
The Failed Push for Peace and Remembrance
Efforts to rename the holiday “Peace and Remembrance Day” have repeatedly fizzled in the State House, and this resistance strikes me as deeply symbolic. Critics argue the original name glorifies conflict, while supporters claim it honors veterans’ triumphs. But what many people don’t realize is that this debate isn’t unique to Rhode Island—it’s part of a nationwide reckoning with how we frame history. Consider the shift from Columbus Day to Indigenous Peoples’ Day, or the removal of Confederate monuments. Rhode Island’s stalemate, then, isn’t just about a holiday; it’s about who gets to define collective memory.
The Psychology of Victory vs. Reconciliation
Why does “Victory” still resonate here? From my perspective, it boils down to psychology. Victory is a simple, emotionally satisfying narrative—it’s a clear win, a story of good vanquishing evil. Peace, on the other hand, is messy. It requires acknowledging nuance, loss, and shared humanity. Take the atomic bombings that preceded Japan’s surrender: for many Americans, celebrating V-J Day sidesteps the moral discomfort of those actions. Rhode Island’s holiday, in this light, isn’t just about history—it’s about avoiding reckoning.
A Broader Trend: The Decline of Victory Narratives
Globally, the trend is clear: nations are moving away from triumphalist commemorations. Germany, for instance, observes days of remembrance without celebrating military victories. Even in the U.K., VE Day celebrations have grown more somber over time. Rhode Island’s outlier status, then, isn’t just anachronistic—it’s a counterpoint to a world increasingly wary of unqualified victory tales. One has to wonder: as the last generation with living memories of WWII fades, will this holiday survive? Or will it become a relic, like the Ziegler’s Sundial Clock in Providence, admired but irrelevant?
Final Thoughts: Who Gets to Remember History?
Here’s the uncomfortable truth: holidays like Victory Day aren’t neutral. They’re choices—statements about what a society values. By clinging to this name, Rhode Island signals a preference for a simplified past over a complex present. In my opinion, this isn’t just about honoring veterans; it’s about refusing to engage with the full spectrum of history’s lessons. As we move into an era where global conflicts are increasingly gray, not black-and-white, the question remains: can we evolve our commemorations without erasing the past? Rhode Island’s stubbornness offers a cautionary tale—and a challenge—to the rest of us.
