The pace of the Kuomintang reactionaries’ collapse has been far swifter than anyone had anticipated. It is now little more than four months since the People’s Liberation Army captured Jinan and just over three months since it took Shenyang; yet all that remains of the KMT—militarily, politically, economically, and in terms of its propaganda apparatus—is utterly fragmented and on the verge of total disintegration, beyond redemption. The final collapse of the KMT began during the Huaihai Campaign in the south and the Pingjin Campaign in the north. Between early November last year and the end of January this year—less than three months—the two campaigns resulted in the loss of roughly 1.05 million troops, including 105 full KMT divisions. This comprehensive collapse was, at root, an inevitable outcome of the Chinese People’s Liberation War and the broader Chinese revolutionary movement. Nevertheless, the “peace” ploy hatched by the KMT and its American masters played a significant role in accelerating the process.  Since January 1 of this year, the reactionary KMT leadership has been reeling from the “peace offensive” they themselves set in motion—a boomerang aimed originally at the Chinese people but which has instead struck them squarely in the foot; or, to be precise, has shattered the KMT from top to bottom. With the exception of the peaceful resolution of the Beiping issue, facilitated by General Fu Zuoyi, Chiang Kai-shek, Li Zongren, Sun Fo, Bai Chongxi, Zhang Qun, Zhang Zhizhong, and the myriad local warlords and officials nominally under KMT rule have each gone their own way, operating under their own banners and pursuing their own agendas. The Americans stand by helplessly, bitterly resenting their errant protégés. In truth, this “peace offensive” was conceived in U.S. think tanks and delivered to the KMT half a year earlier. John Leighton Stuart himself let slip this secret: following Chiang’s so-called New Year’s Address, he told a Central News Agency reporter that it represented “something I have long been personally striving for.” According to the Associated Press, the reporter subsequently lost his job for publishing these “confidential” remarks.  For a prolonged period, Chiang’s clique dared not heed Washington’s directive. As stated plainly in a December 27th instruction issued by the KMT’s Propaganda Department: “If I cannot fight, to seek peace would admit my inability to do so. If I can fight, then talking of peace will only further demoralize the troops and erode public confidence. Therefore, whether I am capable of fighting or not, advocating peace brings a hundred harms and no single benefit.” The KMT issued this directive because other factions within the party were already pressing for negotiations. On December 25th, Bai Chongxi and the Hubei Provincial Consultative Assembly under his command formally proposed a peaceful settlement to Chiang, forcing him to announce on January 1st his willingness to enter peace talks under five stipulated conditions. On January 8th, Chiang dispatched Zhang Qun to Hankou and Changsha to secure support from Bai and Cheng Qian, while simultaneously appealing to the governments of the United States, Britain, France, and the Soviet Union to intervene in China’s internal affairs. Yet none of these maneuvers succeeded.  In a statement issued on January 14th, Chairman Mao Zedong of the Chinese Communist Party dealt a fatal blow to Chiang’s sham peace initiative, compelling him to withdraw behind the scenes within a week. Although Chiang, Li Zongren, and the Americans had meticulously orchestrated what they hoped would be a more palatable double act, the outcome defied their expectations: not only did the audience dwindle to a mere handful, but even the supposed protagonists soon disappeared without a trace. Chiang continues to direct his remnants from Fenghua in his capacity as an “opposition leader,” though he has forfeited any legitimate standing, and his remaining supporters are growing ever fewer. Meanwhile, Sun Fo’s “Executive Yuan” has unilaterally declared the “relocation of the government to Guangzhou.” This illegitimate “government,” however, has severed ties both with its self-styled “president” (the acting president) and with its “Legislative Yuan” and “Control Yuan.” Of the 750 purported legislators, only some 200 remain in Shanghai, a little over 120 are in Taiwan, and by the 11th, barely 57 had reported to Guangzhou—far short of the one-third quorum required by the pseudo-legislature’s rules for holding sessions. Though the KMT Central Standing Committee has likewise announced it will convene in Guangzhou, only eleven members are currently present there, less than a quarter of its full complement of fifty-odd members. Sun Fo’s “Executive Yuan” calls for war, yet the “Ministry of National Defense” responsible for waging it is absent from both Guangzhou and Nanjing; all that is known is that its spokesperson is based in Shanghai. Thus, Li Zongren is left with nothing more than a hollow claim to authority in the Stone City: “The heavens hang low over Wu and Chu, yet my gaze meets naught but emptiness.” Since ascending to the presidency on the 21st of last month, Li has issued scarcely a single order that has been implemented.  Although the KMT no longer possesses a coherent, unified “government,” and although localized peace initiatives are underway everywhere—from Nanjing and Shanghai to Guangzhou, Wuhan, Changsha, and the northwest and southwest—hardline elements within the party persist in rejecting partial settlements and demanding a so-called “comprehensive peace,” which in practice amounts to the outright rejection of peace itself. The absurd spectacle of a splintered, crumbling KMT clamoring for “comprehensive peace” reached its comedic zenith on the 9th of this month, when Deng Wenyi, head of the Political Work Bureau of the pseudo-Ministry of National Defense in Shanghai and a convicted war criminal, issued a statement. Like Sun Fo, Deng repudiated Li Zongren’s declaration of the previous day—that peace negotiations should be based on the CCP’s eight-point peace proposal—and instead called for “equal peace, comprehensive peace.” Otherwise, he warned, “we must be prepared to sacrifice everything and fight the Communists to the bitter end.” Yet Deng failed to specify with whom, exactly, his counterparts ought to negotiate this “equal” and “comprehensive” peace. It seems clear that seeking out Deng alone will yield no solution; nor, apparently, will simply avoiding him or turning to Zhang San or Li Si. Such impasse leaves one profoundly perplexed. As reported by the Central News Agency in Shanghai on the 9th: “A journalist asked Deng Wenyi: Has the acting president approved the four points you just outlined? He replied: I am speaking in my capacity as a representative of the Ministry of National Defense. These four points were not reviewed by the acting president prior to their release.” By thus carving out a parochial “Ministry of National Defense” position distinct from the KMT government’s overarching stance, Deng has effectively created yet another narrow niche within the pseudo-ministry—one separate from its broader operational wing. For while Deng openly opposes and slanders the Beiping peace accord, the Ministry of National Defense itself, in a statement dated January 27th, praised that very settlement as “a means of shortening the war and achieving peace, thereby preserving Beiping’s historic foundations and cultural relics,” adding that similar cease-fires would soon be implemented in Datong, Suiyuan, and other regions.  It is evident, then, that those most fervently advocating “comprehensive peace” are precisely the least equipped to advance such a vision. A political work bureau within the ministry may contradict both the ministry itself and its self-proclaimed president. These reactionary forces constitute the greatest obstacle to peace in China today. Dreaming of unleashing a “total war” under the banner of “total peace”—“war must be total, peace must be total”—they nonetheless lack both the means to achieve genuine peace and the capability to wage a real war. The true sources of comprehensive strength lie elsewhere: with the Chinese people, the People’s Liberation Army, the Chinese Communist Party, and other democratic parties—not with a fractured, decaying KMT. One side holds the power to bring about unity; the other wallows in fragmentation and decay. This stark contrast is the product of decades of struggle by the Chinese people and of the KMT’s sustained misrule. No serious observer can afford to ignore this fundamental reality of China’s current political landscape.