Mao: The Unknown Story

Apart from symbolizing total loyalty to Mao, soldier Lei Feng exemplified another vital point: the idea that hate was good, which was drilled into the population, especially the young. Lei Feng had reportedly written: “Like spring, I treat my comrades warmly … And to class enemies, I am cruel and ruthless like harsh winter.” Hatred was dressed up as something necessary if one loved the people.

As a particular hate figure, Mao built up Khrushchev, on the grounds that he practiced “revisionism.” The Chinese press was flooded with polemics demonizing the Soviet leader, which the population was force-fed at weekly indoctrination sessions. It was thus drilled into people’s minds that Khrushchev and other “revisionists” were villains (like murderers in a normal society). Eventually, the other shoe would drop: Mao would condemn Liu Shao-chi as “China’s Khrushchev,” and disobedient Party officials as “revisionists.”

The first time Mao raised the specter of a Chinese Khrushchev was to his top echelon on 8 June 1964. Liu knew that Mao was driving at him, and that the tornado was about to strike. His options were limited. All he could do was try to entrench his own position to make it harder for Mao to get him. Then, in October, something happened in Moscow that gave Liu an opening.

ON 14 OCTOBER 1964, Khrushchev was ousted in a palace coup. Mao saw an opportunity to resuscitate Soviet assistance for his missile program, which had fallen far behind schedule. He found himself in the position of finally possessing the atomic bomb, but lacking the means to deliver it. For this, he needed foreign know-how, and he set his sights on improving relations with the new leadership in the Kremlin, now headed by Leonid Brezhnev. Within days, Chou was telling Soviet ambassador Chervonenko that it was Mao’s “utmost wish” to have a better relationship. Chou requested an invitation to the anniversary of the Bolshevik Revolution in Moscow on 7 November.

The new Soviet leadership was also interested in finding out whether a rapprochement was possible, and made sure that Mao was the first to hear about Khrushchev’s downfall, before it was made public. But the Kremlin quickly realized that the prospect was extremely dim as long as Mao remained in charge. Ambassador Chervonenko recalled what happened when he went to tell Mao. “It was about 11 pm when I entered Mao’s residence.” After hearing the news, Mao

thought for a moment or two, and then said: “Nice move you have made, but this is not enough” … After the meeting, Mao … saw me off. The car wouldn’t start, so the driver took a bucket and went to the kitchen with Mao’s bodyguard. The moon was shining on the lake. Mao was standing beside my stalled car: “There are still a few things that need fixing,” he said, “and your Plenum hasn’t done them all.”

Mao insisted that Moscow must repeal its Party program and, in effect, disown de-Stalinization. This was out of the question for the new Soviet leaders, and so it seems that they used Chou’s visit to test the water to see whether there was a possibility of the CCP dumping Mao.

At the reception in the Kremlin on 7 November, the big day, Chou and his delegation were walking round toasting old acquaintances when Soviet defense minister Rodion Malinovsky approached Chou, bringing along Russia’s top Chinese-language interpreter. Out of the blue, Malinovsky said to Chou: “We don’t want any Mao, or any Khrushchev, to stand in the way of our relationship.” “I don’t understand what you are talking about,” Chou replied, and walked away at once. Malinovsky then turned to Marshal Ho Lung, China’s acting army chief: “We’ve got rid of our fool Khrushchev, now you get rid of yours, Mao. And then we can have friendly relations again.” Malinovsky used barrack-room language: “The marshal’s uniform I am wearing was Stalin’s dog-shit, and the marshal’s uniform you are wearing is Mao Tse-tung’s dog-shit …” Ho Lung argued with him, and then the Chinese delegation left the reception.

Chou sat up all night composing a cable to Mao. The next morning, Brezhnev came with four senior colleagues (but not Malinovsky) to the Chinese delegation’s residence, where Chou made a formal protest. The Russians apologized, saying that Malinovsky’s words did not reflect their views, and that he was drunk. But, quite apart from the fact that Malinovsky was a man who could hold his liquor, such words could never be spoken lightly by the army chief of one country to the premier and an army chief of another country, particularly when the countries involved were totalitarian Russia and China. Moreover, the Soviet leadership did not censure Malinovsky, which they surely would have done had this been a genuine gaffe. All the evidence suggests that Malinovsky acted deliberately, in a way that could be disowned. A top Russian intelligence expert on China used a telling formulation to us: “We learned that we could not divide Chou and Mao.”