“Since the end of the War of Resistance, the government has consistently pursued a peaceful nation-building policy in an effort to resolve the Communist question through peaceful means. Over the course of a year and a half, however, every agreement reached was sabotaged by the Communists; therefore, it is they who bear responsibility for undermining peace. Today, the Communists have gone so far as to issue a so-called list of war criminals, placing all leading government figures on it and demanding that the government arrest them first. Such brazen and unreasonable behavior is self-evident. Should the Communists fail to change this approach, the path to peaceful negotiations will remain closed.”  The above is the full set of arguments concerning war responsibility contained in a special propaganda directive issued by the Kuomintang Central Propaganda Department on November 13, 1949. This position was none other than that of Chiang Kai-shek, the foremost war criminal. In his New Year’s Day statement, Chiang declared: “As a believer in the Three Principles of the People and heir to the late Father of the Nation’s legacy, I have always been reluctant to follow the war against Japan with another military campaign to suppress bandits, thereby adding to the people’s suffering. Therefore, immediately after the conclusion of the War of Resistance, our government promptly adopted the principle of peaceful nation-building and further sought to resolve the Communist problem through political consultation and military mediation. Unexpectedly, over the course of a year and a half, the Communists obstructed every agreement and plan, preventing their implementation according to schedule. Ultimately, they launched a full-scale rebellion, threatening the very existence of the state.”  He continued: “On November 15, 1948, prominent Communist leaders released a list of forty-three war criminals, with Chiang Kai-shek himself listed first. These alleged ‘war criminals’ simultaneously demand peace while evading responsibility, attempting to shift the blame entirely onto the Communists—a contradiction in terms. If the Communists are indeed responsible for initiating the war, then they must be punished. Since they are labeled ‘bandits,’ they should be suppressed. And since they have provoked a nationwide rebellion, the country must be pacified. Suppression and pacification are entirely justified—why, then, should these measures no longer be taken? Moreover, why did all official KMT documents beginning January 1, 1949, uniformly replace the term ‘Communist bandits’ with ‘Communists’?”

Sun Yat-sen’s son, Sun Ke, found this troubling. On the very same day that Chiang issued his New Year’s address, Sun delivered a radio broadcast on the question of war responsibility, presenting a different view. He argued: “Let us recall that three years ago, in the early days following victory in the War of Resistance, when the people needed time to recuperate, when the nation required vigorous reconstruction, and when the various political parties still shared a common understanding of the needs of the country and its people, we convened representatives from all sectors and respected public figures to hold the Political Consultative Conference. After three weeks of arduous deliberation, aided by the good offices of General Marshall, President Truman’s special envoy, we succeeded in formulating a program for peaceful nation-building and concrete plans to settle all outstanding disputes. Had those plans been implemented without delay at that time, how prosperous China would be today, and how happy its people! Unfortunately, the parties concerned failed to fully set aside their own interests, and the entire nation did not unite around this goal of peace. As a result, the conflict reignited, bringing with it renewed devastation and widespread suffering.”  Sun proposed a more equitable approach, rather than pinning the blame solely on the Communists: he suggested apportioning responsibility equally among all relevant parties. This included not only the Kuomintang and the Communists, but also the Democratic League and other influential figures. Furthermore, he insisted that “the entire nation”—some 475 million compatriots—could not evade accountability. While Chiang Kai-shek sought to single out the Communists as the sole culprits, Sun Ke advocated assigning a share of the blame to every party, every faction, and every citizen, including even Chiang himself. Thus, two members of the Kuomintang—the father and the son—found themselves locked in a bitter dispute.

A third Kuomintang figure soon entered the fray: Li Zongren. On January 11, 1949, acting as “provisional president,” Li issued a statement on the issue of war responsibility, stating: “The eight-year War of Resistance followed by three years of civil war has not only extinguished any hope of national recovery after victory but has also spread disaster across both banks of the Yellow River, reducing fields and villages to ruins. Countless innocent lives have been lost or shattered, leaving families torn apart and countless others starving and freezing. This unspeakable catastrophe is unprecedented in our nation’s history.”  Li made no explicit accusation against either the Kuomintang or the Communists, yet he acknowledged a stark reality: the “unspeakable catastrophe” had unfolded “along the banks of the Yellow River.” Turning his attention southward to the Yangtze and northward beyond the Yellow River, Li observed that Chiang Kai-shek’s forces had wreaked havoc throughout the region, while the Communist army remained relatively restrained. He noted dryly, “If one were to ask whether the Communists truly deserve the label of ‘war criminals,’ given the extent of the destruction they have wrought, the answer would surely be no. But what about the Kuomintang, which has caused such widespread devastation? It seems hardly fair to place the entire burden of responsibility on a single side.” Li went on to express his skepticism about the feasibility of achieving genuine peace under the existing circumstances, pointing out that the very name “civil war” itself suggested the futility of seeking reconciliation within the framework of the Kuomintang. Nevertheless, in the same statement, Li indicated that the government was willing to begin negotiations based on the Communists’ eight-point proposal. Aware that the first point called for the punishment of war criminals—and that his own name appeared on the list—Li nonetheless recognized the logical conclusion: if there were war criminals, they must be held accountable. To this day, hardline elements within the Kuomintang continue to grumble about Li Zongren, claiming that Mao Zedong’s eight-point proposal of January 14 constituted conditions for national surrender and should never have been accepted. Yet their objections remain muted, never voiced openly, for a reason: when Chiang Kai-shek was still in power, these hardliners initially intended to reject the eight points outright. However, upon reflection, Chiang decided against doing so, fearing that outright rejection would sever the possibility of dialogue altogether. On the morning of January 19, as Zhang Junmai returned to Nanjing after discussions regarding the Communists’ eight demands and reported that the government might soon issue a counterproposal, the Central News Agency released an evening bulletin stating: “Earlier today, Shanghai Radio broadcast Mr. Zhang’s remarks suggesting that the government might soon release another statement. However, according to sources within the government, there are currently no plans to issue such a document.” On January 11, Chiang had announced his “retirement” without offering any criticism of the eight points and even withdrew his own five proposals, replacing them with the assertion that “national sovereignty must be restored intact, historical and cultural traditions and social order preserved, and the people’s livelihoods and fundamental freedoms safeguarded; only on this basis can lasting peace be achieved.” Matters such as the constitution, legal legitimacy, and the military were no longer to be mentioned. Consequently, while Li Zongren dared to acknowledge the Communists’ eight points as a basis for negotiation, the Kuomintang’s hardliners could only mutter quietly that the government ought not to accept them.

Did Sun Ke’s policy of “equal sharing of responsibility” endure? Not exactly. Following his relocation of the government to Guangzhou on May 5, 1949, Sun delivered another speech on war responsibility on July 7, in which he stated: “Over the past six months, the ravages of war have profoundly altered the national situation, inflicting immense suffering upon the people. All of this is the direct consequence of past mistakes, failures, and irrational policies, which have now culminated in the current dire predicament. We deeply recognize that China urgently needs the Three Principles of the People—if they cannot be realized, China’s problems will remain unresolved forever. I recall that ten years ago, our party leader personally entrusted us with the mission of gradually implementing the Three Principles; had we succeeded, we would never have reached this point of no return.”  Here, the Kuomintang’s premier was not apportioning blame evenly among all parties and the entire populace, but rather placing the entire burden squarely on the Kuomintang itself. By directing all criticism toward his own party, Sun Ke provided a measure of catharsis for many. What, then, of the Communists? A female member of Sun’s cabinet remarked: “We observe that the Communists have managed to entice and numb the people, largely by appealing to the practical benefits of the Three Principles—specifically, the principle of equal land distribution—as a rallying cry. We feel profound shame and are redoubling our vigilance to reexamine our past errors.” Thanks to the prime minister’s insight, the Communists, though still guilty of “enticement and stupefaction,” avoided more serious charges and thus escaped punishment, retaining both their leadership and their freedom. Sun Ke’s appeal, however, extended beyond this single point. In the same speech, he added: “The spread of Communist influence today stems directly from our failure to put our principles into practice. Our gravest mistake lay in certain party members’ excessive reliance on force, engaging in internal power struggles and creating opportunities for external adversaries to exploit our divisions. Even during the eight-year War of Resistance—when we had a rare chance to achieve peaceful reunification—the government had already devised a plan to resolve domestic disputes through political means, which unfortunately never came to fruition. After years of continuous warfare, the people were desperate for respite. Yet whenever hostilities resumed, their suffering only deepened, morale plummeted, and our military campaigns repeatedly faltered. Yielding to popular sentiment and recognizing the limitations of military solutions, President Chiang issued a New Year’s Day proclamation calling for peace.”  Thus, Sun Ke, despite being designated a war criminal, faced neither arrest nor punishment; he confessed voluntarily and without reservation. Who, after all, had relied on force, initiated the war, and only sought peace when military means proved futile? Clearly, it was the Kuomintang—and Chiang Kai-shek in particular. Sun Ke’s choice of words was precise: he identified “certain individuals” within his own party as having “excessively venerated force.” This interpretation aligns with the Communists’ limited demand to punish merely a handful of Kuomintang members as war criminals, rather than holding the entire party accountable. On this specific point, there was no disagreement between us. The divergence, however, lay in the conclusion: we maintained that those “certain individuals” within the Kuomintang who had “repeatedly resorted to violence and brought untold suffering upon the people” must be prosecuted as war criminals, whereas Sun Ke disagreed. He asserted: “The Communists’ persistent refusal to designate representatives and their constant delays demonstrate that they too are overly confident in their military strength, believing themselves fully prepared to conquer the nation by force. Their unwillingness to agree to an immediate ceasefire is equally revealing. I wish to emphasize that, in order to achieve lasting peace, both sides must engage in negotiations on an equal footing, with terms that are fair, reasonable, and acceptable to the entire nation.”  Seen in this light, Sun Ke’s stance appears less compelling. He seems to argue that prosecuting war criminals does not constitute a fair or reasonable condition for peace. His position stands in stark contrast to the Kuomintang’s propaganda department’s special directive of November 13—which expressed a similarly lukewarm, hesitant opposition to the idea of punishing war criminals—and to Li Zongren’s bold acknowledgment that the punishment of war criminals could serve as a foundation for negotiations. Nevertheless, Sun Ke retained one redeeming quality: his observation that the Communists, too, “venerate force,” as evidenced by their “failure to appoint representatives” and “refusal to cease fire” sooner, rather than having embraced militarism as fervently as the Kuomintang had done back in 1946 when they unleashed that devastating, unspeakable war. The delay in nominating representatives, Sun reasoned, stemmed from the fact that compiling a list of war criminals was a momentous undertaking; any deviation from what would be “acceptable to the entire nation”—whether too few or too many names—would render the list untenable. Since “the entire nation” (excluding the war criminals and their accomplices) could not possibly endorse such a list, it was necessary to consult with all democratic parties and determine the appropriate timing for their participation. The inability to swiftly appoint representatives led Sun to conclude that the Communists, too, must be “obsessed with force.” Once the list was finalized, representatives appointed, and negotiations commenced, Sun would no longer be able to claim that “we venerate force.” As for the refusal to cease fire, this reflected his adherence to President Chiang’s New Year’s Day proclamation, which stipulated that “as long as the Communists demonstrate a sincere desire for peace and make clear, unequivocal statements to that effect, the government will respond in kind and engage in talks to end the fighting and restore peace.” Sun Ke’s cabinet meeting on January 19, however, adopted a resolution directly contradicting Chiang’s edict, calling instead for an “immediate, unconditional ceasefire followed by the appointment of representatives to begin peace negotiations.” A Communist spokesperson sharply criticized this ill-considered proposal on January 21. Undeterred, Sun Ke persisted, asserting on July 7 that the Communists’ “refusal to cease fire” was itself proof of their “obsession with force.” Even a war criminal like Chiang Kai-shek understood that ending hostilities and restoring peace was impossible without prior negotiations; in this regard, Sun Ke fell far short of Chiang’s example. It is well known that Sun Ke became a war criminal because he had consistently supported Chiang’s initiation of war and steadfastly upheld the conflict. As recently as June 11, 1947, he had declared: “In military matters, as long as we fight to the bitter end, we can ultimately prevail.” Now, with negotiations seemingly at an impasse, he argued that the Communists must be crushed; otherwise, they would overthrow the Nationalist government. In essence, Sun Ke was one of those “certain individuals” within the Kuomintang who had “excessively venerated force.” Yet here he stood, offering detached commentary, as if he had never harbored such beliefs or felt any responsibility for failing to uphold the Three Principles. Such disavowal is disingenuous: under both national law and the Kuomintang’s internal regulations, Sun Ke cannot escape accountability. (Xinhua News Agency, Shaanxi-Northwest Bureau, Issue 78)