To revisit the history of cross-strait relations is to revisit a question that has never fully receded in Taiwan: how to survive with dignity under sustained pressure. What unfolded across the Taiwan Strait was never a straight line from war to peace. It was a prolonged contest shaped by Cold War rivalry, personal calculation, and the gradual awakening of public opinion. At moments when reconciliation appeared possible, strategy was often working quietly beneath the surface.
In the mid-1950s, when Cold War tensions were at their peak, Beijing and Taipei declared publicly that they could not coexist. The rhetoric was uncompromising. Yet even then, discreet probing had already begun.
In 1956, the Chinese Communist Party Central Committee sent a confidential letter to Chiang Kai-shek, President of the Republic of China. That letter opened what later became known as the “secret envoy period,” a stretch of indirect exchanges lasting more than a decade.
Journalist Cao Juren traveled repeatedly to Beijing between July and October of that year. He was received by Mao Zedong, Zhou Enlai, Chen Yi, and other senior leaders. The message intended for Chiang was drafted by Zhou Enlai; some accounts say Mao dictated the core ideas and Zhou refined them. At its center stood the so-called “One-Dragon” proposal, later regarded as an early precursor to what would be formalized decades later as “one country, two systems.”
The offer was framed in reassuring terms. If Taiwan returned, Chiang would retain authority over military and administrative affairs. Beijing would limit its reach primarily to foreign relations. Financial assistance for Taiwan’s development was also suggested.
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When Cao returned to Hong Kong in October 1956, he carried more than political language. He brought photographs and film footage showing that the Chiang family ancestral tombs in Fenghua had been preserved and maintained. CCP personnel had repaired the family residence, Baoben Hall, and documented the restoration. Through channels close to Chiang Ching-kuo, the materials reached Taipei.
No trivial gesture
For Chiang Kai-shek, the intact graves were not a trivial gesture. The episode has often been cited as an example of a united front strategy conducted through personal symbolism. Appeals to filial piety and the notion of returning to one’s roots were woven into political outreach. The message was not only institutional, but emotional.
Yu Maochun, director of the China Center at the Hudson Institute and a visiting fellow at the Hoover Institution, has described this period as illustrative of the CCP’s reliance on informal political channels. By bypassing formal diplomatic structures, Beijing could present the Taiwan question as an internal matter, avoiding the constraints of international law and external mediation.
A year later, in 1957, Chiang Kai-shek sent Song Yishan, elder brother of former CCP general Song Xilian, to Beijing. According to Ming Juzheng, honorary professor at National Taiwan University, Chiang’s intention was not reconciliation. He wanted information. On the eve of the Anti-Rightist Movement, he sought a clearer picture of the mainland’s real strength.
It was during these contacts that Zhou Enlai set out what came to be known as the Four-Point Plan: negotiations between the CCP and the Kuomintang on an equal footing; Taiwan to become an autonomous region; Chiang to continue administering the island without interference from central authorities; and U.S. forces to withdraw from Taiwan.
The final condition cuts to the core. Chiang saw immediately what the proposal implied. Without the American security presence, Taiwan would stand alone. In his judgment, the demand for U.S. troop withdrawal was not a technical adjustment but a fatal trap—one that would isolate the island before any autonomy promise could be tested.
Song Yishan later submitted a lengthy report praising developments on the mainland. Chiang reacted sharply, concluding that Song had absorbed CCP narratives. He ordered Song to remain in Hong Kong and barred his return to Taiwan.
The ‘Six Suggestions’
Cao Juren continued to act as an intermediary from 1957 to 1964, carrying oral messages across the Strait. In 1964, Mao Zedong advanced what became known as the “Six Suggestions.” Among them was the idea that Chiang could reside anywhere in China, with Lushan in Jiangxi Province specifically mentioned.
The arrangement was presented as flexibility. In substance, it implied confinement. Chiang Ching-kuo understood that accepting such terms would transform his father into a symbolic figure living under political supervision. The proposal went nowhere.
Looking back, the structure of Beijing’s approach during these years appears consistent. Personal assurances were paired with strategic demands. Administrative latitude was offered in exchange for geopolitical realignment, above all the severing of Taiwan’s ties with the United States. Later initiatives, including the “Message to Compatriots in Taiwan” and “Ye’s Nine Points,” echoed similar themes.
Both Chiang Kai-shek and Chiang Ching-kuo reached the same conclusion: autonomy without security guarantees would be unenforceable. Once external protection was removed, the balance of power would speak for itself.
The international environment shifted dramatically in 1971. Ping-Pong diplomacy signaled athe thaw between Washington and Beijing. Taiwan’s diplomatic position deteriorated rapidly.
Chiang Ching-kuo responded not with new negotiations but with internal consolidation. The Ten Major Construction Projects strengthened infrastructure and industrial capacity. Political reforms, gradual and cautious, widened participation. At the same time, he adopted what became known as the Three Noes Policy: no contact, no compromise, no negotiation with the CCP.
He had come to believe that negotiations were being used to project an image of cross-strait harmony, one that might ease Washington’s retreat. Cutting informal channels was therefore not retreat but repositioning. If talks under weakness led only toward surrender, then resilience had to be built at home.
After Chiang Ching-kuo’s death and Taiwan’s democratization, the political landscape changed again. The Kuomintang’s loss of power in 2000 generated internal debate about how to respond to Beijing. Some senior figures explored party-to-party dialogue outside the sitting government’s framework.
High level talks with Jiang Zemin
In 2001, Chen Lifu and Liang Su-rong reportedly urged then–KMT Chairman Lien Chan to pursue high-level talks with CCP leader Jiang Zemin. Direct dialogue on the mainland, opposition to Taiwan independence, and expansion of the “Three Links” were part of the discussion. The process culminated in Lien Chan’s 2005 visit.
Yet Taiwan by then was no longer governed solely by elite negotiation. Public opinion carried institutional weight. Political bargains touching on sovereignty would face scrutiny beyond party leadership.
During President Ma Ying-jeou’s second term, official exchanges between Taiwan’s Mainland Affairs Council and Beijing’s Taiwan Affairs Office intensified. After the CCP’s 18th National Congress, Xi Jinping outlined a phased political approach toward Taiwan. The contours, as publicly discussed, involved defining the Republic of China’s place within a unification framework, pursuing military confidence-building measures, and eventually negotiating a peace agreement.
In 2014, the Sunflower Student Movement interrupted that trajectory. Triggered by opposition to the Cross-Strait Service Trade Agreement, the protests reflected broader unease about opaque decision-making and sovereignty concerns. The occupation of the legislature signaled that elite-driven arrangements would not proceed uncontested in a democratic society.
From the 1956 secret letter to today’s heightened tensions, cross-strait relations have moved from clandestine exchanges to open systemic rivalry. What began as a contest between former civil war adversaries has evolved into a deeper clash between centralized party rule and democratic self-government.
Beijing’s approach continues to combine appeals to shared identity with demands over political structure and strategic alignment. Peace, in this framework, is presented as contingent on prior unification. For Taiwan, the counterargument has rested on a different premise: security partnerships, institutional resilience, and democratic legitimacy cannot be traded for promises whose enforcement depends on the very authority they would concede.
Chiang Kai-shek refused to relocate under conditions that would have reduced him to a supervised resident. Chiang Ching-kuo chose economic strengthening and political reform over accommodation. The Sunflower Movement asserted that sovereignty questions require public consent.
In Taiwan’s experience, peace has never been an abstract slogan. It has always been tied to security, legitimacy, and the confidence of its own people. When those foundations are weakened, stability becomes uncertain. When they are reinforced, Taiwan’s room to maneuver expands.
The views expressed are solely those of the author.
By Fu Longshan
