Irrespective of one’s personal stance on Chiang and his exploits in mainland China and Taiwan, it is impossible to deny that he succeeded in carving out a far larger entry for himself and the ROC in the annals of history than either probably deserve. In Jay Taylor’s “The Generalissimo: Chiang Kai-shek and the Struggle for Modern China,” the soldier-statesman’s dramatic life is retold in a manner that allows readers to appreciate the stolid indifference Chiang maintained to the almost insurmountable challenges that he was faced with as China’s leader.
Taylor, who is a research associate at the Fairbank Center for Chinese Studies at Harvard University and served in the U.S. Foreign Service for 37 years, is more than qualified to write on the generalissimo. He started out as a political officer in Taipei and then Hong Kong, and was China desk officer in the U.S. State Department when Chiang died at age 87.
Through using newly available archival materials dating back some 40 years, including Chiang’s daily diaries, Kuomintang and ROC government documents, Russian records and interviews with key figures, the author has produced a deeply researched book that follows the generalissimo from his days on the mainland until his death in Taiwan. But what makes Taylor’s work so special are the numerous in-depth and eminently readable accounts of Chiang’s life. For the first time, the grandiose layers of appearance and reality that the generalissimo built up around him are stripped back to reveal the man behind the myth.
Taylor’s epic book is a landmark tome in Chinese studies because it shows that the generalissimo, far from being a sham Caesar who lost the mainland to Mao Zedong and communism in a surprisingly short period of time, gave the nation its best government in the 20th century. This revisionist take, which is told with a flair befitting the subject, shows Chiang to be an honorable and talented man who was subject to ungovernable fits of temper that often led to impetuous decisions. He could also maneuver from harsh brutality to resigned passivity in an instant, and was not afraid of crying if the occasion called for it.
Examples of this behavior are illustrated by the generalissimo’s efforts to occupy Manchuria following Japan’s World War II surrender Sept. 2, 1945. Although Chiang suspected he was on a fool’s errand, this did not stop him from needlessly wasting men and material in hopeless pitched battles against the communists. Even during the final and decisive 1948 Manchurian campaign from September to late October, Chiang continued to pour in troops after recognizing that it was highly unlikely he could succeed. Later, in the cold hard light of day, he explained to an American correspondent that government leaders would have been ashamed to give up major cities of the country without a fight and as a result “we defended too many cities and this stretched our supply lines.”
This taxidermic rigidity and inability to keep ego and emotions from interfering with strategic decision-making quite possibly contributed to the tragic killings Chiang ordered in Taiwan in 1947. Taylor writes how the generalissimo believed that islandwide protests over the arrest and beating of a woman selling bootleg cigarettes in Taipei by police Feb. 28, 1947 was likely a communist plot and “crossed the red line of what the government can tolerate.” No doubt influenced in part by his clear perception of Taiwan as the only stable refuge for him and his army should he lose the mainland, Chiang ordered a brutal “kill the chicken to scare the monkey” brand of suppression.
On March 9, 1947, soldiers from the 21st Division aboard transport ships from the mainland began shooting at anyone they saw on the docks at Keelung Port near Taipei. After disembarking, the troops joined Taiwan’s Garrison Command in rounding up listed individuals and executing them as examples. On March 13, Chiang cabled Governor Chen Cheng to order that “no revenge was to be taken against the Taiwan public.” But it was far too late. In the succeeding weeks and months, military reinforcements dispatched from the mainland set about killing, imprisoning and torturing tens of thousands of people across Taiwan. Decades later, the KMT would apologize for its handling of the February 28 Incident and the ROC government would enact legislation compensating victims and their surviving relatives.
Such disastrous failings in Chiang’s personal make-up are not brushed over by Taylor and serve as stark reminders of the generalissimo’s tendency toward hypocrisy, especially when viewed within the context of his unyielding belief that he was central to China’s destiny. It is this Chiang of the 1920s that comes off looking poorly—espousing high morals while cavorting with Chinese and Japanese bar girls and losing himself to wild evenings of debauchery and decadence.
While some would argue that such experiences are the things of which truly great leaders are made, the generalissimo recognized the need to “modify his behavior” by the time ROC Founding Father Sun Yat-sen passed away March 12, 1925. Thrust into a leadership role with the KMT, he cleaned up his act, becoming a model of virtue renowned for his firm adherence to a code of incorruptibility and devotion to the welfare of the common man. This lofty personal moral code was further enhanced after he embraced Christianity following his 1927 marriage to the God-fearing, American-educated Soong Mayling, the youngest daughter of a wealthy and powerful Shanghai family and a formidable figure in her own right.
The change in Chiang is brought out by Taylor’s skillful combination of reflections contained in the generalissimo’s diaries with major historical events of the day. This device gives meat to Chiang’s emotional bones, somewhat humanizing a man who historians tend to portray as a despised tyrant. But in using this technique, the author begins to exhibit sympathy for his subject and misses a golden opportunity to put the generalissimo’s life in the broader context of his rise to power.
This is where the book could be improved. It is somewhat lacking on details concerning the KMT, its ideology, internal evolution and limitations as a state-building party. Similarly, the 1911 overthrow of the ruling Manchus—the descendants of the warrior military elite who conquered China in the 1640s and ruled the country as quasi-gods for three centuries—could also do with greater explanation. And with almost no information about the gauche collection of warlords who dominated China from 1916 to 1927, and who played major roles in Chiang’s emergence as a national figure, the reader is left wondering how someone described as an “ignorant, illiterate, peasant son-of-a-bitch” by U.S. General Joseph “Vinegar Joe” Stillwell, the generalissimo’s China theater chief of staff during World War II, could have climbed to such lofty heights.
One explanation is that Chiang’s elevation during the 1920s and 1930s in strife-ridden China could be due to the fact that Chinese society was politically and intellectually exhausted. This would not be the first time in history that a great power had fallen upon hard times, only to find itself fought over by rivals who were not exactly the best and the brightest.
John Cantacuzenus, grand domestic of the Byzantine Empire, addressed a similar situation in a speech delivered to ambassadors from Byzantine Empress Anne of Savoy in 1341. “There is nothing more conducive to the destruction of a nation, whether it be a republic or monarchy, than the lack of men of wisdom or intellect. When a republic has many citizens, or a monarchy many ministers, of high quality it quickly recovers from those losses that are brought about by misfortune. When such men are lacking, it falls into the very depths of disgrace. That is why I deplore the present state of the empire, which having produced so many excellent men in the past, has now been reduced to such a level of sterility that today’s governors possess nothing to elevate them above those whom they govern.”
For those seeking a more detailed account of Chiang’s pre-1949 trials and tribulations, Jonathan Fenby’s “Generalissimo: Chiang Kai-shek and the Nation He Lost” fills in the details with style. Fenby covers the cast of fascinating characters surrounding Chiang with aplomb, leaving the reader wondering whether the colorful tale is fact or fiction.
In Taylor’s eyes, despite Chiang’s lack of education and personal failings, he was a pragmatic leader that toiled mightily to effect China’s transition from feudalism to some form of modernity. The problems that beset him while striving for this goal such as the collapse of China’s economy and irresponsible use of U.S. loans by family members and hangers-on were not his fault. Nor were the innumerable military disasters, which saw KMT forces regularly routed by the communists and Japanese. Taylor never questions the generalissimo’s intellect, formal training and strategic skills; instead Americans such as Stillwell are fingered for not giving him the support he needed during key battles.
But this at times overly charitable take on Chiang’s life does not detract in any way whatsoever from the quality of Taylor’s tale. In fact this is more than compensated for by the author’s impressive efforts at shedding light on the generalissimo’s activities in Taiwan and Asia post-1949.
It is here that the accomplishments of Chiang and his son, former ROC President Chiang Ching-kuo, in transforming Taiwan from a Japanese colony into a prosperous, vibrant democracy are recognized. But along the way there were setbacks and Taylor does not shirk from pointing these out.
Taiwan’s period of martial law, which was enforced from 1949 to 1987, ran far too long and provided the generalissimo with an all-too convenient excuse to impose media censorship, ban new political parties, restrict freedom of speech and violently suppress opponents. In addition, Chiang seemed to forget his Christian and Confucian beliefs, seeing staged mass political rallies, shadowy intelligence services, paramilitary and elitist secret societies, and assassinations of political and human rights irritants as part and parcel of good government.
Blind luck or grand strokes of genius aside, historians have long since delivered their verdict on Chiang as a leader and nation builder. But in time, the central role many believe he played in mainland China’s rise may further emerge and help win him greater credit. Taylor’s excellent biography is a step in this direction and should be mandatory reading for those seeking to garner a better understanding of the mainland and its political and social direction in the 21st century.
—Jean Brisebois is a freelance writer based in Montreal, Canada. Copyright © 2010 by Jean Brisebois
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