Mao: The Unknown Story Read online

  Unlike Chen, Mao showed no qualms about taking Moscow’s money. He was a realist. Russian funding also transformed his life. After the congress he began to receive 60–70 yuan a month from the Party for the Hunan branch, soon increased to 100, and then 160–170. This large and regular income made a tremendous difference. Mao had always been short of money. He had two jobs, headmaster and small-time journalist, and he dreaded having to depend on these two occupations to make his living. In two letters written in late November 1920 to a friend, he had complained bitterly, saying: “a life just using the mouth and brain is misery to the extreme … I often go without a rest for 3 or 4 hours [sic], even working into the night … My life is really too hard.”

  Then he had told some friends: “In the future, I most likely will have to live on the salaries of these two jobs. I feel that jobs that use only the brain are very hard, so I am thinking of learning something that uses manual labour, like darning socks or baking bread.” As Mao had no fondness whatever for manual labor, to volunteer such an idea showed he had reached a dead end.

  But now he had a comfortable berth as a subsidized professional revolutionary. He gave up journalism, and even resigned his job as headmaster, able at last to enjoy the kind of existence he could hitherto only dream about. It seems to be now that he developed his lifelong habit of sleeping late into the day and staying up reading at night. In a letter to his old best friend Siao-yu written two months after the 1st Congress, he was almost ecstatic:

  I am now spending most of my time nursing my health, and have become much fitter. Now I feel extremely happy, because, apart from getting healthier, I don’t have any burden of work or responsibility. I am busy having good food every day, both indulging my stomach and improving my health. I also can read whatever books I want to read. It is really “Wow, what fun.”

  To be able to eat his fill and read to his heart’s content was Mao’s idea of the good life.

  In October 1921 he was able to set up house with Kai-hui, in a place called Clear Water Pond, and had enough money to afford servants. It was a lovely spot, where water flowed into a large pond and changed from muddy to clear, giving the place its name. The house was a traditional building, with black wooden beams and motley brick walls, overlooking fields of vegetables and backing on to low hills.

  In theory, the house was the office of the Hunan Party branch. As the provincial Party leader, one of Mao’s main tasks was to recruit members, but he did not throw much zeal into the cause. When he had first been asked to recruit for the Youth League in November 1920, he had delegated the job to someone else and gone off on holiday with his girlfriend Si-yung, claiming that he was off “to research education.”

  Unlike most founding dictators — Lenin, Mussolini, Hitler — Mao did not inspire a passionate following through his oratory, or ideological appeal. He simply sought willing recruits among his immediate circle, people who would take his orders. His first recruit, his friend and bookshop manager Yi Li-rong, described how, soon after Mao came back from the 1st Congress, he called Yi out of the bookshop. Leaning against a bamboo fence in the yard, he told Yi that he ought to join the Party. Yi muttered some reservations about having heard that millions had died in the Russian Revolution; but, as he said, Mao “asked me to join and so I joined.” This was how Mao set up his first Party branch in Changsha. It consisted of just three men: himself, Yi, and the friend he had taken to the 1st Congress.

  The next to join were members of Mao’s family — his wife and his brothers, whom he had sent for from the village. Tse-min had been running the family business and was smart with money. He took charge of Mao’s finances. Mao summoned more relatives from their village to Changsha, and doled out various jobs. Some entered the Party. Outside his circle of family and friends, his recruiting was sparse. Mainly, he trawled very close to home.

  Actually, at the time, quite a lot of young people in Hunan were attracted to communism, including the man who was to become Mao’s No. 2 and president of China, Liu Shao-chi, and a number of other future Party leaders. But they were introduced to the Party not by Mao but by a Marxist in his fifties called Ho Min-fan, who had been county chief of Changsha. Min-fan sponsored Liu and others for membership in the Socialist Youth League in late 1920, and made the introductions for them to go to Russia. He himself did not get to go to the Party’s 1st Congress because the invitation was sent to Mao, who was extremely jealous of Min-fan, especially of his success at recruiting. When Liu Shao-chi returned from Moscow in 1922, Mao grilled him about how Min-fan had achieved this.

  Once Mao became official CCP branch boss, he schemed to oust his unwitting rival. Min-fan ran a public lecture center which occupied a fine property, a grand clan temple called Boat Mountain. Claiming to need it for Party purposes, Mao moved in, together with his group, and made life so impossible for Min-fan that he ended up leaving both the premises and the Party milieu. Mao told Liu Shao-chi a year later that Min-fan, Liu’s mentor, had been “disobedient. So we drove him out of Boat Mountain.” By using the word “disobedient,” especially about someone much older, Mao was revealing his thuggish side. He had not behaved this way in his earlier persona. When he first met his friend, the liberal Siao-yu, Mao had bowed to show respect. He had been courteous to his peers and superiors alike. A taste of power had altered his behavior. From this time on, Mao’s friendships were only with people who would not challenge him, and these were largely apolitical. He was not friends with any of his political colleagues, and hardly ever socialized with them.

  Removing Min-fan was Mao’s first power struggle. And he won. Under Mao, there was no Party committee. Meetings were rare. There was just Mao giving orders, though he took care to report regularly to Shanghai, as required.

  MAO WAS DOING NOTHING about another major task, which was to organize labor unions. He felt no more sympathy for workers than he did for peasants. Writing to a friend in November 1920, in which he complained about his own conditions as an intellectual, he remarked: “I think labourers in China do not really suffer poor physical conditions. Only scholars suffer.”

  In December 1921, workers in Anyuan, an important mining center straddling the Hunan — Jiangxi border, wrote asking the Communists for help, and Mao went up to the mine — the first time on record that he went near any workers. He stayed a few days and then left, delegating the practical work to someone else. After this brief dip in the grimy world of the coal miners, he told Shanghai that he had come “to his wits’ end” with “the workers organisation.”

  There were effective labor organizers around, though, especially two non-Communists who founded a Hunan Labor Union and recruited more than 3,000 of the approximately 7,000 workers in Changsha. The two were arrested in January 1922 while leading a big strike. In the small hours, they were executed — hacked to death in the traditional manner, an event that gave rise to a storm of protest nationwide. When the governor who killed them was later asked why he did not target Mao, his answer was that he had not seen Mao as a threat.

  IT WAS THANKS TO HIS ineffectiveness at organizing labor and recruiting that Mao was dropped from the Party’s 2nd Congress in July 1922. This was a most important occasion, as it passed a charter and endorsed joining the Comintern, thus formally accepting outright Moscow control. Later, Mao tried to explain away his absence by claiming that he “intended to attend” but “forgot the name of the place where it was to be held, could not find any comrades, and missed it.” In fact, Mao knew plenty of Party people in Shanghai, including some of the delegates, and there was no chance that he could have accidentally missed what was a very formal occasion. His absence from the congress meant that he might lose his position as the Party boss in Hunan. Russian funds would no longer come through him, and he would have to take orders from someone else. This prospect spurred him to act: first he visited a lead and zinc mine in April 1922, and in May he went back to Anyuan, the coal-mining center. He also led a number of demonstrations and strikes. On 24 October, when Kai-hui gave bi
rth to their first child, a son, Mao was not with her, as he was away negotiating on behalf of the builders’ union. He gave their son the name An-ying: An was a generation name; ying meant “an outstanding person.”

  Mao also finally set up a Hunan Party committee at the end of May, a year after being made Hunan boss. It had thirty members, most of them not recruited by himself. The future president, Liu Shao-chi, described on his deathbed how the committee worked under Mao. “I had many meetings at Chairman Mao’s house,” he wrote, “and apart from asking questions, I had no chance to speak at all. In the end, it was always what Chairman Mao said that went … the Party in Hunan already had its own leader and its own distinctive style — different from the Party in Shanghai.” Liu was putting on record as explicitly as he could that Mao had already started behaving dictatorially in the earliest days of the Party.

  Meanwhile, as Mao worked to mend fences with the center of power, he had a lucky break. In January 1923 most of the CCP cadres working in Shanghai found themselves at odds with an order from Moscow to do something seemingly bizarre, and arbitrary: to join another political party, the Nationalists (also known as the Kuomintang, or KMT). Moscow needed provincial Communists who would support its position — and found Mao.

  THE NATIONALIST PARTY had been founded in 1912 by the merger of a number of Republican groups. Its leader was Sun Yat-sen, who had briefly been the first provisional president of the Republic, before losing power to the army chief Yuan Shih-kai. Since then, Sun had been trying to form his own army and overthrow the Peking government.

  This objective led Sun to embrace Moscow. The Russians shared his goal of subverting the Peking government, as it was refusing its consent to their occupation of Outer Mongolia, which was then Chinese territory. The CCP was far too small to topple the Peking government, so Moscow’s envoys looked round among various provincial potentates, and found that the only one willing to accept the Soviet presence was Sun.

  Sun was based in Canton, the capital of the southern coastal province of Guangdong. He asked the Russians to help him build a force strong enough to conquer China. In September 1922 he told a Russian envoy that he wanted to establish “an army with arms and military matériel supplies from Russia.” In return, as well as endorsing the Soviet occupation of Outer Mongolia, Sun proposed that Russia occupy the huge mineral-rich province of Xinjiang in the northwest. Russia’s chief envoy, Adolf Joffe, reported in November that Sun “asks that one of our divisions should take Xinjiang … where there are only 4,00 °Chinese troops and there cannot be any resistance.” He suggested to the Russians that they invade from Xinjiang deep into the heartland of China, as far as Chengdu in Sichuan, on his behalf.

  Not only did Sun have big ambitions and few scruples, he had a sizable party with thousands of registered members, and a territorial base with a major seaport at Canton. So in early January 1923 the Soviet Politburo decided: “Give full backing to the Nationalists,” with “money [from] the reserve funds of the Comintern.” The decision was signed by the up-and-coming Stalin, who had begun to take a close interest in China. Sun had thus become, as Joffe told Lenin, “our man” (italics in original). His price was “2 million Mexican dollars maximum,” roughly 2 million gold rubles. “Isn’t all this worth 2 million roubles?” Joffe asked.

  Moscow knew that Sun had his own agenda, and was trying to use Russia, just as Russia was trying to use him. It wanted its local client, the CCP, to be right there on the spot to ensure that Sun toed Moscow’s line and served Moscow’s interest. So it ordered the Chinese Communists to join the Nationalist Party. In a secret session, Stalin spelled out: “we cannot give directives out of here, Moscow, openly. We do this through the Communist Party of China and other comrades in camera, confidentially …”

  Moscow wanted to use the CCP as a Trojan horse to manipulate the much bigger Nationalist Party; but all CCP leaders, starting from Professor Chen, opposed joining Sun’s party, on the grounds that it rejected communism and that Sun was just another “lying,” “unscrupulous” politician out for power. Moscow was told that sponsoring Sun was “wasting the blood and sweat of Russia, and perhaps the blood and sweat of the world proletariat.”

  Maring, the Comintern envoy, faced a revolt. This is almost certainly why Mao was brought to Party HQ. The pragmatic Mao embraced Moscow’s strategy. He promptly joined the Nationalist Party himself. A more fervent Communist, actually an old friend of Mao’s, Cai He-sen, told the Comintern that when Maring put forward the slogan “All work for the Nationalists,” “its [only] supporter was Mao.”

  Mao did not believe in his tiny Party’s prospects, or that communism had any broad appeal. He made this crystal-clear at the CCP’s 3rd Congress in June 1923. The only hope of creating a Communist China, he said, was by means of a Russian invasion. Mao “was so pessimistic,” Maring (who chaired the congress) reported, “that he saw the only salvation of China in the intervention by Russia,” telling the congress “that the revolution had to be brought into China from the north by the Russian army.” This was in essence what happened two decades later.

  His enthusiasm for the Moscow line shot Mao into the core of the Party, under Maring. There he exerted himself as never before, now that he could see hope in what he was doing. Moscow’s chief bagman in China, Vilde, who doubled as the Soviet vice-consul in Shanghai, singled out Mao and one other person in a report to Moscow as “most definitely, good cadres.” Mao was appointed the assistant to Party chief Professor Chen, with responsibility for correspondence, documents, and taking the minutes at meetings. All Party letters had to be co-signed by him and Chen. In imitation of Chen, Mao signed with an English signature: T. T. Mao. One of the first things Chen and he did was to write to Moscow for more money—“now that our work front is expanding.”

  HAVING SHEPHERDED its local Communist clients into the Nationalists, Moscow now sent a higher-level operator to control both the CCP and the Nationalists and to coordinate their actions. Mikhail Borodin, a charismatic agitator, was appointed Sun Yat-sen’s political adviser at Stalin’s recommendation in August 1923. A veteran of revolutionary activities in America, Mexico and Britain, he was a good orator, with a powerful voice, a dynamic organizer and a shrewd strategist (he was the first person to recommend that the Chinese Communists should move to northwest China to get near the Russian border, which they did a decade later). He inspired descriptions like “majestic,” and radiated energy even when ill.

  Borodin reorganized the Nationalists on the Russian model, dubbing their institutions with Communist names, such as Propaganda Department. At the Nationalists’ First Congress in Canton, in January 1924, Mao and many other Chinese Communists took part, and the tiny CCP secured a disproportionate number of posts. Moscow now started to bankroll the Nationalists in a big way. Most importantly, it funded and trained an army, and established a military academy. Set on a picturesque island in the Pearl River some ten kilometers from Canton, the Whampoa Academy was modeled on Soviet institutions, with Russian advisers and many Communist teachers and students. Planes and artillery were shipped in from Soviet Russia, and it was thanks to Russian-trained troops, backed in the field by cohorts of Soviet advisers, that the Nationalists were able to expand their base substantially.

  Mao was very active in the Nationalist Party, and became one of sixteen alternate members to its top body, the Central Executive Committee. For the rest of the year, he did most of his work in the Nationalist office in Shanghai. It was Mao who helped form the Hunan Nationalist branch, which became one of the biggest.

  Mao even went as far as seldom attending meetings of his own Party. His keenness about working with the Nationalists drew fire from his fellow Communists. His old — and more ideological — friend Cai later complained to the Comintern that in Hunan “our organisation lost almost all political significance. All political questions were decided in the Nationalist provincial committee, not in the Communist Party Provincial Committee.” Another dedicated labor organizer concurred: “Mao at
that time was against an independent trade union movement for workers.”

  Moreover, Mao suddenly found himself cold-shouldered by some of Moscow’s envoys, as his patron Maring had left China the previous October. Although Mao got on well with Borodin, he struggled to defend himself against the ideological purists. Moscow had ordered the Chinese Communists to keep their separate identity and independence, while infiltrating the Nationalists, but the ideologically woolly Mao could not draw the line between the parties. On 30 March 1924, one of these ideologue envoys, Sergei Dalin, wrote to Voitinsky:

  What you would hear from CC [Central Committee] Secretary Mao (undoubtedly a placeman of Maring’s) would make your hair stand on end — for instance, that the [Nationalist Party] was and is a proletarian party and must be recognised by the Communist International as one of its sections … This character represented the Party in the Socialist Youth League … I have written to the Party’s CC and asked it to appoint another representative.

  Mao was duly fired from this position. Criticized as “opportunistic” and “right-wing,” he found himself kicked out of the Central Committee, and was not even invited to attend the next CCP congress scheduled for January 1925. His health now took a downturn, and he grew thin and ill. A then house-mate and colleague told us that Mao had “problems in his head … he was preoccupied with his affairs.” His nervous condition was reflected in his bowels, which sometimes moved only once a week. He was to be plagued by constipation — and obsessed by defecation — all his life.