The status of Sun Yat-sen as the “Father of the Chinese Revolution” makes him unquestionably a figure of great historical importance. Indeed, both Chinas assiduously cultivate his legend. What kind of a man was he? Harold Z. Schiffrin’s lucidly written biography endeavors to present the real Sun by dissipating the mystical aura that has surrounded him. Schiffrin, a specialist in Chinese history at Hebrew University in Jerusalem and Academic Director of the Harry S Truman Research Institute for the Advancement of Peace, draws from an extensive amount of scholarly research, including his own earlier Sun Yat-sen and the Origin of the Chinese Revolution (1968). In general, it is a balanced coverage of Sun’s life, as well as an excellent summary of the tortuous revolutionary period. This makes the work a highly useful introductory history of modern China for the layperson.
It has been said that Sun’s greatness lies in what he symbolized, rather than in what he actually achieved. His life and work symbolized China’s quest for national resurgence. His success as a revolutionary leader however, may be subject to varying assessments. Schiffrin writes that Sun was endowed with such requisite qualities of personality as audacity, optimism, resilience, and self-confidence. He seemed to lack, however, that exceptional measure of abilities to make him truly equal to his great task. According to Schiffrin, Sun was only a reluctant revolutionary who did not possess the ruthlessness that marks a true revolutionary. Born of a typical peasant family in the Kwangtung province, he was exposed to Western influences early in life. A commercially successful older brother in Honolulu made it possible for him to attend a school run by the Church of England and, later, an American school in Hawaii. His brother summarily ordered the teenaged Sun home, however, when he expressed the intent to convert to Christianity. Sun was deeply attracted to things Western. Yet, the nationalist legacy of the Taiping uprising, conveyed to him earlier by a favorite teacher at his village school, also had a strong influence on him.
Sun continued his education in Hong Kong, while the Sino-French hostilities of 1883-1885 made him more fully aware of the grave problems burdening his country. It was at this time that the young Sun sensed the deep gulf between the patriotic, belligerent lower classes and the helpless, lethargic ruling class. Strangely, during this time of growing interest in politics and involvement in China’s national resurgence, Sun formally embraced the Christian faith, thereby greatly angering his brother. Was it a demonstration of personal independence? With the help of Westerners, including an American businessman, he was able to attend a medical school in Hong Kong. Unfortunately, upon his graduation in 1892, he discovered that his diploma was not acceptable to Hong Kong authorities, and that he would not be allowed to practice medicine in the colony. Thus reduced to the status of an herbalist, Sun moved to Canton to open a practice. It seems he became more and more disillusioned about a medical career, however, turning his energies instead toward politics.
Sun drafted far-ranging reform proposals and tried to interest leading statesmen of the Manchu Dynasty in them. These efforts were to no avail, and he soon abandoned in frustration his pursuit of official patronage. Sun felt ignored and slighted by the establishment because of his lowly social background. Schiffrin suggests that this was what led to his vow to overthrow it. Together with a small circle of associates he formed the Society to Restore China’s Prosperity. Appeals for financial support went out to overseas Chinese, particularly those on Hawaii, where his brother strongly approved of his nationalist endeavors.
China’s humiliating defeat at the hands of Japan in 1895 had a potent catalytic effect on the pace and direction of modern Chinese history, according to Schiffrin. In its aftermath, Sun launched his first conspiracy. He strenuously courted the support of the imperialist powers, especially Britain’s, by catering to their aspirations and prejudices. His conspiracy failed, as would several others later. He had, however, drawn attention and support. The Chinese government put a price on his head. Consequently, Sun went to Japan, where he enjoyed the hospitality of a number of influential persons. He was tireless in his efforts to mobilize support and raise funds. He toured the United States and then went to London, hoping to persuade the British government to assume “benevolent neutrality.” His efforts on the diplomatic front were less than successful. Moreover, he was subjected to a somewhat bizarre and frightening experience. He was kidnaped and detained in the Chinese legation. Only the last-minute intercession of friends saved him from being returned to China and certain execution. As it turned out, the whole affair was to Sun’s advantage, for he became a press sensation and was thrust into the international limelight.
In Schiffrin’s depiction, Sun displayed some of the characteristics of the “confidence man.” Indeed, his style was a bit puzzling, if not dismaying, in its blatant opportunism and posturing. On the one hand, he humbly petitioned the imperialist powers for help, while, on the other, he energetically advocated the pan-Asian cause against European exploitation. Although mere tactics in an effort to activate all possible levers to achieve his goals for China, his credibility came to be questioned in both camps. Nevertheless, his ceaseless activities, including a brief association with the Filipino liberation effort, clearly projected Sun as the dominant figure in opposition to the Manchu Dynasty.
The Boxer Uprising at the turn of the century presented fresh opportunities for Sun’s group. This fanatic antiforeign outburst ultimately led the regime to declare war on all imperialist powers with ports and spheres of influence in China. Far from reducing foreign encroachments, however, this conflict left China, even more than before, a subject nation. In turn, this condition intensified nationalistic and revolutionary aspirations. Sun’s organization was forced into premature action, however, in the Waichow uprising, and he failed for a second time. Apparently undaunted, Sun traveled extensively abroad, seeking support in such places as San Francisco, New York City, and London. In Brussels, he wooed the Socialist International. Functioning without a solid home base was difficult and discouraging. His old base of operations in Japan was denied him, for he was no longer welcome there after the Japanese victory over Russia in 1905. Despite the odds against him, Sun still succeeded in merging several oppositionist groups to form the Chinese Alliance. His control over this political organization, however, was tenuous.
There was much groping for a political program that could unite the Chinese masses, whose bitterness was deep and whose potential for self-sacrificing struggle was great. The eventual Program of the Revolution, however, largely ignored the severe agrarian injustices. The Alliance made some headway in Canton, primarily through the efforts of Sun’s deputy Huang Hsing. Several more uncoordinate uprisings were staged in the years 1907 and 1908. Although unsuccessful, they mattered as demonstrations of popular support for Sun’s republican cause. As for Sun, he viewed money as the key to success. While the pace of revolutionary activities in China quickened, he intensified his quest for funds abroad. As Schiffrin describes it, a kind of chain reaction had been touched off, particularly by the actions of the Railway Protection League against the foreign railway construction. When at last the revolution was proclaimed in December 1911, Sun was only its nominal leader. In fact, he was in Denver at the time. Several northern generals had jumped on the republican bandwagon, and the imperial family gave up. Sun, who had been made the provisional president of the new Chinese Republic, deferred in a statesmanlike gesture to the powerful military leader Yüan Shih-k’ai. Thus, following the abdication of the child emperor on February 12, 1912, Yüan was elected president in Nanking.
For Sun, then, it was a bittersweet victory. Yielding to Yüan made possible the peaceful settlement. Yet, the revolution remained incomplete. The Dynasty was merely replaced by the militarists, and the old bureaucratic elite was able to hold on. The subsequent period of rampant warlordism, according to Schiffrin, wrecked both republicanism and traditional gentry power. Meanwhile, in August, 1912, the Kuomintang, the new nationalist party, was formed, with Sun as its head. Sun strove hard to keep the revolutionary dream alive, as the regime under Yüan deteriorated into a military dictatorship. Sun’s young associate Sung Chiao-jen, chairing the Kuomintang executive committee, was assassinated by henchmen of the Yüan regime. In the face of terrorism and chaos, Sun’s efforts concentrated more directly on ridding the country of Yüan. He lived and worked in Shanghai, which was beyond the reach of the government in Peking throughout the divided and unstable warlord rule which followed Yüan’s death. During this difficult and problematic time he was helped immensely by his new wife, the beautiful Soong Ch’ing-ling.
The Paris Peace Conference of 1919 let China down, and when the Japanese were allowed to take over previously German Shantung, the nationalist outcry was great. The May Fourth Movement was born, as students proved their mettle as organizers and propagandists for Sun. Ironically, the absence of effective central government during the period of warlordism from 1916 to 1928 allowed a flourishing of public opinion and intellectual discourse. The ordinary people, however, were worse off than under the Manchu Dynasty. Sun now agitated for the assumption of direct political control. He had himself elected “extraordinary president” of the Chinese Republic in 1921 and formed a countergovernment in Canton. Failing in his pleadings to obtain recognition from Western powers, as well as in his military expedition to unify the country, he was forced to abandon Canton. Back in Shanghai in 1922, Sun appeared ready to deal with anyone. The Kuomintang entered into an alliance with the small Chinese Communist Party. Also, the uniform Western rejection had pushed Sun toward the Soviet Union. Indeed, when Sun was able to reestablish himself in Canton, the Soviet Union was willing to support him. In addition to some financial and military support, the Soviets sent Sun an intriguing and highly capable adviser named Michael Borodin. Among other important actions, Borodin saw to the reorganization of the Kuomintang along the lines of the Soviet model. The party’s platform was rewritten to oppose more specifically imperialists, warlords, and the privileged classes. Sun’s three principles of socialism, nationalism, and democracy, however, were retained. There can be no doubt that Borodin helped transform the Kuomintang into a much more effective political organization.
The party’s military strength was built up under Chiang Kai-shek, Sun’s loyal associate and the head of the newly created Whampoa military academy. It was Chiang who was to succeed in unifying the country under the Kuomintang, if only for a brief period. At the age of fifty-eight, Sun died of cancer on March 12, 1925. He had struggled on behalf of his revolutionary cause for nearly forty years. His resilience and his faith in the future of his country were amazing. The mandate he left was a powerful one; but his capacity for national leadership was never fully tested. As Schiffrin notes, this is probably why Sun so easily became a legend. His notion that by an act of will the Chinese could leap from backwardness to modernity was embraced by Mao Tse-tung, and his scheme for using foreign capital to build socialism is being attempted by the current leaders of China.
Only the symbolic Sun Yatsen has endured, and his memory is celebrated in both the Peoples Republic and in Taiwan. Possibly one day he will be, as Schiffrin thoughtfully concludes, the unifying symbol for the two political entities. In this work Schiffrin has managed to capture some of the drama of the life of a very human revolutionary. It is the best biography of Sun Yatsen available in the English language.