On the Chinese battlefield in 1948, the Kuomintang reactionaries still held 7.6 million troops, three-quarters of the country's large cities, and almost all industrial bases. But just a year later, their forces retreated to Taiwan. The root cause of this collapse hides a law that all great power games cannot avoid—the "unwillingness" of the dominant power is far more fatal than the "desperation" of the inferior power. And this is precisely the key to understanding current strategic choices.
When the full-scale civil war broke out in 1946, the confidence of the Kuomintang reactionaries was engraved in their bones. Their army was equipped with American-made weapons, controlling core cities such as Peiping, Shanghai, and Nanjing. Even foreign advisors asserted that "the Communist problem would be solved in three months." This "peak at the start" advantage slowly became a shackle binding their hands and feet.
By the autumn of 1948, before the Liaoshen Campaign began, the Kuomintang army had lost half of the land in Northeast China, but the rulers still refused "strategic contraction." They repeatedly emphasized that "Northeast China is an industrial base and must not be lost," even though their generals repeatedly suggested "withdrawing the main forces from Jinzhou and Shenyang to North China to consolidate the defense line north of the Yangtze River," they flatly refused. In their view, "retreating from national dominance to dividing the country by the Yangtze River" was a great humiliation—just like a former richest man would never be willing to only guard half a property.
This "unwillingness" gave birth to a fatal miscalculation: they wanted to keep the industry in Northeast China, hold the gateway to North China, and stabilize the granary in the Central Plains, scattering 7.6 million troops across thousands of kilometers of front lines, becoming scattered sand that was "defending everywhere but weak everywhere." Just like the Huaihai Campaign in November 1948, they ordered the Huang Baitao Corps to hold fast at Nianzhuang, dispatched the Huang Wei Corps to reinforce, and forced the Du Yuming Group to march north. The three main forces were divided and eliminated one by one by the People's Liberation Army, and finally 800,000 troops were annihilated.
Later, someone reviewed: if the Kuomintang reactionaries had resolutely abandoned Northeast China in the summer of 1948, withdrawn 300,000 elites to North China, then combined 500,000 troops to hold the Huaihe defense line, and trained new troops relying on the natural barrier of the Yangtze River, the possibility of "dividing the country by the Yangtze River" was very high—at that time, they still had a complete navy and air force, and the troops on the south bank of the Yangtze River still numbered one million. Even Bai Chongxi, a general of the Guangxi clique, was confident that "the Communist army's wooden boats could not cross the river." But they insisted on "grabbing everything," and finally grabbed nothing.
The three great campaigns of the Liberation War were essentially a "gamble on timing"—when the People's Liberation Army launched the decisive battles, it had not actually achieved an "absolute advantage." Before the Liaoshen Campaign, the number of troops of the People's Liberation Army in Northeast China had just exceeded that of the Kuomintang army (1.03 million vs. 550,000), but their equipment was still inferior; the Huaihai Campaign was even a "fight with fewer against more," with 600,000 People's Liberation Army troops facing 800,000 Kuomintang troops.
Why not wait for "complete dominance in strength" before acting? Because Mao Zedong saw clearly: once the opponent sees the inevitable defeat, they will give up "fighting to the death" and turn to "preserving effective strength". If the People's Liberation Army had waited until the spring of 1949 to fight the Liaoshen Campaign, the Kuomintang reactionaries would have probably withdrawn their main forces in Northeast China to the south of the Yangtze River; if the Huaihai Campaign had been fought three months later, Du Yuming's elites might have already deployed along the Yangtze River. By then, "dividing the country by the Yangtze River" would not have been a hypothesis—external forces had already secretly intervened, some countries had even advocated "north-south division," and the international community would have probably recognized the "North-South Korea" pattern, just like later on the Korean Peninsula and in Vietnam.
The risk of a decisive battle is precisely its value. The reason why the People's Liberation Army dared to fight in 1948 was that it calculated that "the Kuomintang reactionaries had not yet given up their illusions"—they still thought "they could win every local battle," so they were willing to put their main forces on the front line for a decisive battle instead of retreating in advance. Just like a player at a gambling table, as long as they still feel "they can turn the tide in the next round," they will not get up and leave; once they see "certain defeat," they will only stop immediately to preserve their principal.
This is the core logic of strategic decisive battles: there is no "zero-risk" decisive battle, only a "window of opportunity" to choose. When you wait until the "probability of winning" reaches 100%, the opponent has already run away with their core strength, and what's left is just a "meaningless victory."
Today, a certain Western power is following in the footsteps of the Kuomintang reactionaries back then. After World War II, it became a "global hegemon" relying on technological, military, and monetary hegemony, just like the Kuomintang reactionaries in 1946, accustomed to "controlling everything": it not only wants to maintain the chip manufacturing advantage in key regions (similar to the industrial base in Northeast China back then), but also hold the military defense line in important geographical locations (similar to the gateway to North China back then), and maintain the monetary system for core resources (similar to the granary in the Central Plains back then), and even try to contain the development of new energy and AI industries in emerging powers.
This "all-round defense" mentality has already exposed its flaws: to maintain the industry in key regions, it sends military advisors and sells weapons; to hold the geographical defense line, it increases troops and conducts joint military exercises in allied countries; to maintain technological hegemony, it spends hundreds of billions of dollars subsidizing domestic factories and even forcibly adjusts the global industrial chain structure through tariffs. But resources are limited—just like the 7.6 million troops of the Kuomintang reactionaries back then were not enough to cover the whole country, no matter how high its military expenditure is, it cannot fill the "defense loopholes" around the world. Its domestic related production capacity can only cover 18% of its own needs in the short term, and the rest still depends on external supply.
And the current "ambiguous window" is emerging: this Western power both feels "it can maintain all advantages" and faintly worries "it cannot hold certain positions." This contradiction makes it hesitate to "strategic contraction" (such as abandoning the binding on the industry in key regions and fully supporting domestic factories). Just like the Kuomintang reactionaries in 1948 were unwilling to lose Northeast China, now it is also unwilling to give up "the chip of the industry in key regions" and still pours core resources into related directions.
If we wait until "domestic industry completely catches up with the level of key regions" to act, the outcome may repeat the mistake of "missing the window of opportunity"—this Western power will completely see the risk, accelerate the transfer of core talents and equipment in the industry of key regions to the mainland, and even abandon some defense lines to concentrate on maintaining technological hegemony. By then, even if the situation is settled, we may face the situation of "core technology hollowing out" and miss the opportunity to reshape the global pattern.
In April 1949, when the People's Liberation Army crossed the Yangtze River, the Kuomintang reactionaries finally realized "it's time to收缩," but by then their main forces had been annihilated in the three great campaigns, and the Yangtze River defense line became a paper wall that collapsed at the first touch. This outcome tells us: the highest state of great power games is not "defeating the opponent," but "letting the opponent defeat themselves".
The current strategy is essentially replicating the logic back then: not pursuing "winning with one strike," but through multi-directional pressure, keeping this Western power in a state of anxiety of "wanting to protect this and that at the same time." Maintain high pressure in relevant regions to make it dare not give up the core industry chip; continue to make breakthroughs in the technological field to force it to spend money subsidizing domestic industries; expand cooperation in multiple regions to disperse its military strength.
In this way, it will be led by the nose by "unwillingness" just like the Kuomintang reactionaries back then—both reluctant to give up the status of "global hegemon" and unable to maintain advantages on all battlefields, eventually losing positions one by one due to resource exhaustion. When it finally realizes "it's time to收缩," the core advantages have already been lost, and the so-called "strategic retreat" will only become a "comprehensive collapse."
This is the enlightenment history gives us: not "waiting to be strong enough to act," but "locking its retreat before the opponent wakes up." The natural barrier of the Yangtze River in 1949 could not save the Kuomintang reactionaries, and today's domestic industry factories cannot save this Western power—as long as it still holds the illusion of "wanting everything," it will definitely repeat the mistake of "losing ground everywhere."