Mao: The Unknown Story

by Jung Chang

  China’s role in taking on the US gave Chou the cards to shoot for the moon, and he asked the Master for no fewer than 147 large military-related enterprises, including plants to produce warplanes and ships, 1,000 light tanks per year, with one factory for medium tanks to be ready within five years.

  Stalin prevaricated, responding with platitudes (“China must be well armed, especially with air and naval forces”; “China must become the flagship of Asia”). But he never signed Chou’s list.

  Then there was the question of turf. Stalin had been doling out parts of Asia to Mao since he had begun to think about the war in Korea. Mao had extruded tentacles into half a dozen Asian countries stretching from Japan (the Japanese Communists had come to Peking in spring 1950 to prepare for armed action in coordination with the Korean War) to the Philippines (where the US had strategic bases) and Malaya, where a sizable, and largely ethnic Chinese, insurgency was fighting British rule. In Southeast Asia, Burmese Communist insurgent forces had been moving towards the Chinese border to link up with China to receive supplies and training, just as Ho Chi Minh’s army had done in Vietnam. One evil harbinger who was soon to come to China for training was the future leader of the Cambodian Khmer Rouge, Pol Pot.

  In September 1952, Chou talked to Stalin about Southeast Asia as if its fate were to be entirely decided by Peking, and the Chinese army could just walk in if Peking so wished. The minutes of their meeting on 3 September record that Chou: “says that in their relations with Southeast Asian countries they are maintaining a strategy of exerting peaceful influence without sending armed forces. He offers the example of Burma … The same in Tibet. Asks whether this is a good strategy.” Chou was treating Burma in the same vein as Tibet. Stalin replied wryly: “Tibet is part of China. There must be Chinese troops deployed in Tibet. As for Burma, you should proceed carefully.” But Stalin immediately added, confirming that Burma was Mao’s: “It would be good if there was a pro-China government in Burma.” (Stalin monitored Burma closely through his ambassador, the long-time liaison in Yenan, Vladimirov.)

  Mao was now planning to form his regional conglomerate, using a “Peace Congress” of the Asia — Pacific region scheduled to convene in Peking. This was on Chou’s agenda for his talks with Stalin. Stalin was obliged to acknowledge that China should play “the principal role.” That he was not at all pleased can be seen from what followed. Chou asked “what specific actions” the Russian delegation would take, which was a subtle invitation for Stalin to confirm that the Russians would not grab leadership. Stalin replied sarcastically with one word: “Peace.”

  Undeterred, Chou forged on to say that during the imminent Soviet Party Congress Liu Shao-chi would like to meet Asian Communist leaders. This was a way of trying to secure Stalin’s blessing for Mao to take charge of Asian parties, but dragging endorsements out of the Master was like getting water out of a stone. First mentioned were the Indonesians. The minutes record:

  CHOU EN-LAI … asks whether it would be timely to discuss party issues in Moscow with them.

  STALIN says that it is difficult to tell yet …

  CHOU EN-LAI reports that the Japanese should arrive, and it is likely they will also want to discuss party issues.

  STALIN answers that older brothers cannot refuse their younger brothers in such a matter. He says that this should be discussed with Liu Shao-chi …

  CHOU EN-LAI points out that Liu Shao-chi intends to bring with him appropriate material, in order to discuss a number of questions.

  STALIN notes that if the Chinese comrades want to discuss these issues, then of course we will have no objection, but if they do not want it, then we will not have to discuss anything.

  CHOU EN-LAI answers that the Chinese comrades will definitely want to talk.

  How forceful Chou En-lai was! Relentlessly pursuing the Master as he tried to evade. Two and a half years and a devastating war before, when Mao was in wintry Moscow, Stalin had blocked him from any such meetings. Now, Stalin was forced to concede: “in this case, we shall find the time.” Then, another little sarcasm when the smooth Chou, “ending the conversation, says they would like to receive instructions concerning all these issues.”

  STALIN asks — instructions or suggestions?

  CHOU EN-LAI answers that from comrade Stalin’s perspective this would be advice, but in their perception these would be instructions.

  Chou’s tact masked a startling new degree of assertiveness on Mao’s part. In fact, Mao had even begun conspiratorial operations in the USSR itself.

  CHOU’S MISSION in August — September 1952, transparently aimed at enabling Mao to become a major power and a rival to Stalin, drastically sharpened Stalin’s sense of the threat from Mao, and so he set about undermining Mao by exhibiting special intimacy towards Mao’s top colleagues. Stalin first cultivated army chief Peng De-huai, who came to Moscow in early September, with Kim, for the only tripartite Russo-Sino-Korean summit of the war. At the end of one meeting, most unusually, Stalin took Peng aside for a tête-à-tête, without Chou, which Chou reported to a furious Mao. Peng explained to Mao that Stalin had only talked about the way the North Koreans had been maltreating POWs (which had been causing problems for the Communists diplomatically). Mao remained suspicious, but seems to have concluded that this was just a ploy of Stalin’s to unsettle him.

  Then came another attempt by Stalin to drive a wedge — this time between Mao and Liu Shao-chi, who came to Moscow for the Soviet Party Congress in October. Stalin was extraordinarily, and noticeably, attentive to Liu, demonstrating a degree of intimacy that amazed Liu’s entourage. “Stalin even mentioned his personal matters and moods,” Liu’s interpreter, Shi Zhe, observed. Shi had also interpreted for Mao, and saw the sharp contrast with the way that Stalin had treated Mao. Chou En-lai was to comment to a small circle that Stalin had given a far warmer welcome to Liu than to Mao.

  Stalin then fired a salvo across Mao’s bows with an unprecedented gesture, unique in the annals of world communism. On 9 October, Pravda published Peking’s congratulations to the Congress, which Liu had delivered the previous day. In large type, Liu was billed as “General Secretary” of the CCP (the highest post in other parties). But, as Moscow well knew, the CCP did not have a general secretary. It was inconceivable that this was an accident. “Pravda in those days didn’t make mistakes,” one Russian ambassador to Britain commented to us. Stalin was saying to Mao: I could make your No. 2 the No. 1!

  Liu had to clear himself, so he immediately wrote a note to Stalin’s No. 2, Georgi Malenkov, saying that he was not general secretary, and that the CCP was “all under the leadership of Comrade Mao Tse-tung [who] is the Chairman.” Clearly deciding that the wise thing to do was not to panic, he sent no frantic excuses home to Mao. After the congress, he stayed on as planned to talk to other Asian Communist leaders, including Ho Chi Minh, and together the two discussed not only Vietnam, but also Japan and Indonesia with Stalin. Stalin then kept Liu in Russia for months, until January 1953, to meet the people who were at the top of Mao’s list — the Indonesians. On the night of 6–7 January 1953 Liu finally joined Stalin and Russia’s top agent in Indonesia for an unusually long meeting with the Indonesian Communist leaders Aidit and Njoto, to discuss Peking “taking over” the Indonesian Party. Afterwards, Aidit celebrated by going out into the freezing night to throw snowballs, unaware that little more than a decade later, in 1965, Mao’s tutelage would condemn him and Njoto and hundreds of thousands of their followers to premature and ghastly deaths.

  As soon as the meeting with the Indonesians was over, Liu left Moscow for home that same day. Altogether, he had stayed in Russia for three months. Mao could do nothing about Stalin’s machinations to needle him and stir up suspicion, nor was he able to take it out on Liu, which would play into Stalin’s hands. But he flashed a warning signal to Liu the moment Liu returned to Peking, which amounted to: Don’t get ideas!

  Meanwhile, Mao kept on bombarding Stalin with requests relating to arms industries.
A blockbuster eight-page cable on 17 December 1952 bluntly demanded of Stalin: “Please could the Soviet government satisfy our arms order for war in Korea in 1953, and our orders for arms industries.” Prefaced to this was Mao’s vision for the war: “in the next phase (suppose one year), it will become more intense.” As an added inducement to Stalin to cough up, Mao offered to carry Kim’s bankrupt state, informing Stalin that Peking would subsidize Pyongyang for three years — to the tune of US$60 million p.a., which happened to be exactly the amount Stalin had “lent” to Mao in February 1950; but, per capita, fifty times the amount Stalin had been willing to advance — and from a much poorer country. And, unlike Stalin’s loan, Mao’s to Kim carried no interest. A few weeks later, in January 1953, Mao put in another large request for his navy. Stalin said he would send the armaments requested, and approved Mao’s fleet taking part in naval operations on the high seas for the first time, but he firmly declined to meet Mao’s demands about arms industries.

  AT THIS POINT, the armistice talks had long been in recess, while heavy fighting had continued. On 2 February 1953 the new US president, Eisenhower, suggested in his State of the Union address that he might use the atomic bomb on China. This threat was actually music to Mao’s ears, as he now had an excuse to ask Stalin for what he wanted most: nuclear weapons.

  Ever since the first Bomb had been dropped on Hiroshima in 1945, Mao had longed to possess one. One of his economic managers, Bo Yi-bo, recalled that all through the early 1950s, “at all meetings and on all occasions, Chairman Mao would talk about the fact that we had no atom bombs. He talked and talked. Chairman Mao was really anxious!” Mao successfully concealed this hankering from the public, affecting instead an image of nonchalant contempt for atomic weapons, and pretending that he preferred to rely on “the people,” a position made famous by his remark in 1946 that the atom bomb was “a paper tiger.”

  As soon as Eisenhower made his remarks about possibly using the Bomb, Mao dispatched his top nuclear scientist, Qian San-qiang, to Moscow. Mao’s message boiled down to this: Give me the Bomb, so that you will not be drawn into a nuclear war with America. This confronted Stalin with a serious dilemma, as Russia had a mutual defense pact with China.

  Stalin did not want to give Mao the Bomb, but he was worried about Eisenhower. It was under this unremitting pressure — from Mao as much as from the West — that Stalin, it seems, decided to end the Korean War. According to Dmitri Volkogonov, the Russian general who had access to the highest-level secret archives, Stalin made the decision to end the war on 28 February, and told his colleagues he was planning to act the next day. That night Stalin was felled by a stroke, which killed him on 5 March. Mao may well have been a factor in the stroke. At the last dinner Stalin had talked about the Korean War, connecting the failure to keep Yugoslavia’s Tito in the camp with the Communists losing the chance to win in Korea. He also brought up the Comintern in the Far East, and how it had failed in Japan. After dinner, he read some documents, and the last was a report that his attempt to assassinate Tito had failed. Stalin had suspected Mao of being a Japanese spy in the past, and was viewing Mao as a potential Tito. His obsessive mind may have been revolving around Mao, reflecting that getting rid of Mao would be just as daunting a task as trying to finish off Tito. Mao may have helped cause Stalin’s stroke.

  Mao went to the Soviet embassy to mark Stalin’s death. An embassy staffer claims that Mao had tears in his eyes and had trouble standing up straight, and that Chou wept. Actually, Stalin’s death was Mao’s moment of liberation.

  On 9 March a giant memorial service was held in Tiananmen Square, with an organized crowd of hundreds of thousands. Strict orders were issued to the populace, including the injunction “Don’t laugh!” A huge portrait of Stalin was draped above the central archway, and the ceremony opened with Mao bowing before the portrait and laying a wreath. Many speeches were made, but none by Mao. Nor did he go to the funeral in Moscow, though Mme Mao, who was then in Russia, visited Stalin’s bier. Chou attended the funeral in Red Square, and was the only foreigner to march with the top Russian mourners, walking next to security chief Beria, in bitter cold (among Chou’s gifts was immunity to temperature).

  Stalin’s death brought instant changes. During an all-night meeting on 21 March, the new Russian leaders, headed by premier Georgi Malenkov, told Chou they had decided to end the war in Korea. Stalin’s successors were keen to lessen tension with the West, and made it clear that if Mao cooperated over stopping the war he would be rewarded with a large number of arms enterprises — ninety-one — which Stalin had been delaying. Unlike Stalin, who saw Mao as his personal rival, the new Soviet leaders took the attitude that a militarily powerful China was good for the Communist camp.

  But Mao insisted on keeping the Korean War going. He wanted one more thing: the Bomb. In fact, this was the main goal of Chou’s trip, along with arms industries. Chou tried hard to get the nuclear physicist Qian San-qiang’s group into Russian nuclear research institutes, but their repeated requests for the transfer of nuclear technology were turned down. Qian kept pushing for two months, a period that coincided exactly with Mao’s foot-dragging over ending the war. Then, in May, Moscow put its foot down.

  The Communist camp had for some time been waging a huge campaign accusing the US of using germ warfare in Korea and China, and had vaguely claimed large numbers of deaths from germ attacks. Captured US airmen were made to confess to dropping germ bombs, sometimes on camera.

  Mao used the issue to whip up hatred for the US inside China. But the accusations were concocted. When Stalin died, the Kremlin immediately decided to drop the charges, which, Beria wrote to Malenkov on 21 April 1953, had caused Russia to “suffer[ed] real political damage in the international arena.”

  The accusation of fabricating the charges was now used to put pressure on Mao to end the war. Soviet foreign minister Molotov wrote to his colleagues that the Chinese had given the North Koreans “an intentionally false statement … about the use of bacteriological weapons by the Americans.” The Koreans, he said, were “presented with a fait accompli.” The Russians were laying the groundwork for throwing all the blame onto Mao.

  On 2 May the Kremlin told its new ambassador in Peking, V. V. Kuznetsov, to deliver an unprecedentedly harsh message to Mao, which read:

  The Soviet government and the Central Committee of the CPSU [Soviet Party] were misled. The dissemination in the press of information about the use by the Americans of bacteriological weapons in Korea was based on false information. The accusations against the Americans were fictitious.

  The message “recommended” that Peking drop the accusations, and informed Mao menacingly that the Russians “responsible for participation in the fabrication … will receive severe punishment.” Indeed, the Soviet ambassador to Pyongyang, V. N. Razuvayev, had already been recalled, as Mao certainly knew, and tortured by Beria’s men.

  Kuznetsov saw Mao and Chou at midnight on 11–12 May. Afterwards he reported to Moscow that Mao back-pedaled. According to Kuznetsov, Mao said “that the campaign was begun on the basis of reports from the [Chinese] command … It is difficult now to establish the authenticity of these reports … If falsification is discovered, then these reports from below should not be credited.” Kuznetsov was clearly under orders to give a detailed account of Mao’s reactions. He reported that: “some nervousness was noticed on the part of Mao Tse-tung; he … crushed cigarettes … Towards the end of the conversation he laughed and joked, and calmed down. Chou En-lai behaved with studied seriousness and some uneasiness.”

  Mao had every reason to feel uneasy. Moscow’s language was uncommonly severe. It showed how determined the Kremlin was to end the war, and signaled a readiness to apply extreme pressure, and to disavow something that Stalin must have approved. Coming fast on the heels of the Kremlin disowning Stalin’s last fake conspiracy, the “Doctors’ Plot” (the first time any action of Stalin’s was publicly repudiated, which came as a bombshell to the Communist world),
the new Kremlin was telling Mao it was determined to have its way. Mao was clearly taken aback, as he gave orders to end the war that very night.

  Mao could see that getting the Bomb from Russia was out of the question for now, as the new Kremlin was bent on lowering tension with America. So he recalled his nuclear delegation from Moscow, and settled for the arms projects that the new Kremlin leaders had offered. He ordered his negotiators in Korea to accept voluntary repatriation of POWs, which had been on the table for over eighteen months.

  Two-thirds of the 21,374 Chinese POWs refused to return to Communist China, and most went to Taiwan.† The one-third who returned to the Mainland found themselves labeled as “traitors” for having surrendered, and suffered appallingly for the rest of Mao’s reign. One other dire, and little-known, contribution Mao made to the misery of the Korean nation was to help consign over 60,000 South Korean prisoners, who were illegally retained by the North at the time of the armistice, to a terrible fate. Mao told Kim to hold on to them. These unfortunate men were dispersed to the remotest corners of North Korea to conceal them from prying eyes and minimize their chances of escape, and this is where any survivors are probably held to this day.

  AN ARMISTICE WAS finally signed on 27 July 1953. The Korean War, which had lasted three years and brought millions of deaths and numerous wounded, was over.

  More than 3 million Chinese men were put into Korea, among whom at least 400,000 died. An official Russian document puts Chinese dead at 1 million.

  Among those who died in Korea was Mao’s eldest son, An-ying, killed in an American air raid on Peng De-huai’s HQ, where he was working as Peng’s Russian translator. It was 25 November 1950, just over a month after he had entered Korea. He was twenty-eight.

  He had married only a year before, on 15 October 1949. His wife, Si-qi, was a kind of adopted daughter to Mao, and she and An-ying had known each other for some years. When An-ying told his father in late 1948 that he wanted to marry her, Mao had flown into a ferocious rage and bellowed at him so terrifyingly that An-ying fainted, his hands going so cold they did not react even to a boiling hot water bottle, which left two big blisters. Mao’s furious reaction suggests sexual jealousy (the beautiful and elegant Si-qi had been around Mao for much of her teens). Mao withheld consent for many months, and then told the couple to delay getting married until his regime was formally proclaimed, on 1 October 1949. By the time of his first wedding anniversary, An-ying was gone. As was the rule, he did not tell his wife where, and she did not ask.