Studies on Mao Zedong have been abundant and contentious; hence, there are many differing viewpoints on Mao’s political and personal life. In particular, biographical work on Mao seems to fall into three categories. Earlier monographs tend to portray Sun in a hagiographic manner, depicting him in almost a mythical role. Yet, research done on Mao after the Cultural Revolution tend to deconstruct his career and instead assert that not only was Mao merely a tyrant, he was an intellectual charlatan who lacked ideal and integrity. This essay will not attempt to add any more confusion this subjective dilemma; rather, it will a sample of these differing opinions of scholarship on Mao’s career after 1949. But because the literature of “Mao studies” is so plentiful, this essay will narrow its focus on exclusively on the political biographies rather than ideological or theoretical studies of Mao.

Jerome Chen’s Mao and the Chinese Revolution (1965) is one of the earliest works done on Mao after the establishment of the Communist regime. However, because of the political isolation of the regime in that era, information was not only closely guarded but also difficult to access. Without the benefit of personal interviews or other Chinese language sources,[1] Chen’s research relies on a great deal of speculation and resourcefulness.

According to Chen, Mao was a “brilliant” political leader and military tactician. A true traditional leader, Mao led a modest and simple life and showed a “fatherly kindness” to those working under him. Chen explains that Mao’s dislike of education was due to his practical and “utilitarian” nature. To Mao, theoretical knowledge had no application for peasants who spent much of their time farming.[2] Moreover, he credits Mao for China’s social revolution, for it was his leadership that provided equal land ownership to the peasants while ending unjust class hierarchies. Mao was even a feminist because he had liberated females from the Confucian patriarchal system.

Interestingly, Chen views Mao as an extension of the self-strengtheners of the late Qing dynasty.[3] In contrast to prior claims by Robert Payne or Edgar Snow, Chen disputes arguments that Mao’s father or Mao’s reading of Chinese literature influenced his political career. With no substantial information to support his reasoning, he attempts to make the connection that Mao’s egalitarian nature was based upon his readings of Chinese-translated works by these thinkers. Hence, he surmises that as a self-strengthener, Western thinkers such as Charles Darwin, J.S. Mill, F. Paulsen, as well as J-J Rousseau influenced Mao. Indeed, it was not only later in his life that anarchism and Marxism complemented Mao’s liberal thought.

Athough Stuart Schram’s Mao Tse-tung offers a more detailed analysis into Mao’s life, it faces similar limitations as Chen’s research in that it is restricted to Peking Review, Mao’s poetry, as well as Edgar Snow as its main sources.[4] Nonetheless, Schram is also an apologist of Mao, for he argues that Mao’s fascination with such infamous characters as Qin Shihuangdi and Han Wudi was not because of their tyranny, but because of their nation-building and martial skills.[5] Unlike Chen, Schram insists that the strict supervision of Mao’s father had influenced his career immensely, for it was through his father that he attained his stern work ethics. Moreover, Mao’s interest in Ming novels moulded his rebellious nature and even guided his military campaigns.[6]

According to Schram, Mao’s greatest contribution was his introduction of socialism to China. Because he was a great philosopher, Mao modified Marxism to suit Chinese conditions. Hence, Mao’s eclectic allusions to classical literature and history was his method of easing the masses’ acceptance of a foreign abstract theory in a specifically “Chinese context.”[7] Schram also defends Mao’s thought-reform campaigns as an outgrowth of his earlier successes of the Yan’an rectification campaigns. Far from eradicating his opposition, Mao’s intent was to harmonize and pacify the uncertainty and anxiety created by the destruction of Confucian and monarchial values. He believed that the “void” needed to be filled by conformity of the people; moreover, it was his method for rooting out the tyranny and corruption of the existing merchant classes.[8] Indeed, Schram liberates Mao from any responsibility of the Great Leap Forward or the Cultural Revolution disasters. He argues the economic disasters of the Great Leap were justified by Mao’s good-willed intentions and “ideological advancement” of the nation. As for the chaos of the Cultural Revolution, Schram directs the blame on Jiang Qing and Mao’s personality “cult,” (Red Guards) for they perverted his ideology in order to advance their own interests.[9]

Discarding the traditional political biography, Lucian Pye’s Mao: The Man in the Leader and Robert Jay Lifton’s Revolutionary Immortality offer psychoanalytical approaches in analyzing Mao. Pye, a political scientist, argues that Mao’s childhood played the major role in the shaping of his adult life. Mao’s mother, Wen Qimei, had a profound influence on him, especially on his religious beliefs, love of history, and life ideologies. But Pye pins Mao’s inability to trust even his most intimate associates as a result of his mother’s divided love to his siblings. Claiming that Mao suffered the classic case of “Oedipus complex,” Pye explains that Mao resented the attention his mother gave to his younger brother and was deeply disappointed of her betrayal.[10] As a result, not only did Mao rarely mention his siblings in conversations, he devoted his life in search of “fraternal ties” that he never had as a child. Moreover, he often became ill when mistreated and ignored; Pye attributes such narcissism to Mao’s unresolved issues with his mother, especially his fear of abandonment.

Pye accredits Mao’s other chief influence to his father, Mao Rensheng. Even though Mao resented his father, he was inspired by his criticisms. Hence, Pye contends that Mao was “compulsive” in proving his father wrong.[11] In particular, Mao Rensheng’s charged that his son was lazy and spent too much time reading “useless books” impelled Mao Zedong to dedicate his life in physical fitness and voracious reading so much so that Mao mandated the peasant’s literacy and physical education as part of his political doctrine. Interestingly, in accepting Mao’s boasts that his “united front” with his mother had inspired his later resistance against the Japanese and KMT, Pye asserts that the “pond incident” marked the turning point of Mao’s political career. By threatening to commit suicide, Mao learned that his father’s submission could also be applied to political situations. But by learning to threaten his opponents through “bluffing,” Mao ultimately failed as a parent and husband, for he never allowed himself to be trapped by the responsibilities of the family.[12]

Robert Jay Lifton similarly analyzes Mao’s personality and actions in a psychohistorical framework. Lifton, a psychiatrist, explains that Mao’s incessant political struggles and paranoia, particularly during the Cultural Revolution, were due to his fear of death. Realizing that he had escaped fatality too many times, Mao understood that his demise as “imminent and overdue.”[13] Because he identified the revolution as a part of himself, Mao symbolized the renewal of the communist revolution as his “rebirth.”

Hence, the Cultural Revolution was used psychologically and symbolically to declare war not only tradition, but death itself.[14] The revolution represented a continuity of his life rather than an overthrow of the old order. Similar to Lucian Pye’s arguments, Lifton contends that Mao suffered “survivor paranoia,” for he turned despotic whenever he lost confidence in his claim to political and biological authority (old age). Thus, when he sensed opposition from Deng Xiaoping and Liu Shaoqi and felt threatened by death, he countered by igniting the violence of the Cultural Revolution. However, in arguing that Mao’s political actions were caused by his upbringing and his personal phobias, Pye and Lifton seems to repudiate Mao’s personal accountability of his tragic errors.

In providing the views of some of the major voices of sinologists, Mao Tse-tung in the Scales of History offers a more comprehensive and balanced analysis of Mao’s career. In doing so, many of the authors deconstruct much of the mythical prowess attributed to Mao by previous scholars. While Benjamin Schwartz argues that Mao was amateur philosopher who would have no serious followers had he not been a politician, Schram argues that Mao’s was a feeble Marxist whose ideology was both ambiguous and flawed; in particular, his continual revision of Marxism throughout his career left little direction for his successors to build on after his death.[15] According to Michel Oksenberg, Mao’s power was actually quite fragile during his reign, for his authority had “waxed and waned” numerous times.[16] Jacques Guillermaz argues that Mao was a poor military commander. The success of the Red Army was based on its immaculate organization, in which case Mao was but one of many architects. According to Guillermaz, Mao’s understanding of military was simplified and ambiguous; most of Mao’s speeches contained no substance, for he often employed catchy slogans only to impress the “uncultured masses.” Moreover, he attributes the defeat of the KMT as a result of the Sino-Japanese war’s depletion of its forces, not because of Mao’s supposed ingenuity of utilizing of ancient military tactics.[17]

It was not until the 1980s that Mao studies began to change. As Ross Terrill argues, there was an intellectual fascination with Chinese Communism as well as a respect for Chinese history and culture prior to Mao’s death. Lee Feigon also suggests that Mao’s support of student attacks on government bureaucracy and ideological orthodoxy attracted many Western intellectuals disillusioned by the Vietnam War. Hence, sinologists tended to believe the best in Mao and thus avoided examining his pathology.[18] However, by the 1980s, tragic accounts from émigrés who escaped China coupled with Deng Xiaoping’s successful practice of pragmatic policies impelled western scholars to analyze Mao’s method of rule with greater scrutiny.

Dick Wilson’s Mao: People’s Emperor was one such biography that challenged Mao’s position. He argues that Mao rarely believed in his own ideological preachings. Far from an intellectual, it was Mao’s concern for Chinese society – not Marxism – that attracted him to public life. Thus, Wilson charges Mao as a “barrack-room philosopher” who possessed little intellect; he simplified Marxism not only for the people, but also for himself.[19] Because his experience of isolation and rejection by the elites during his youth helped him identify with peasants, his revolution was very successful in achieving his initial goals of liberating the peasants and the nation from hardships.

But as he attained more power, his personality changed for the worse as he steadily transformed into a cynical tyrant who manipulated his subjects but failed miserably in managing state affairs. Instead of governing his country, Mao spent his fifty-six years in the CCP in ten debilitating “two-line” struggles against his own comrades. Wilson defends Mao’s victims, especially Peng Dehuai, Lius Shaoqi, and Lin Biao, as sincere and loyal cadres who were helplessly purged because they voiced their criticism against Mao. In Wilson’s view, Mao’s greatest failure was not his personal cruelty that led to the deaths and imprisonment of innocent lives; instead, it was his inability to collaborate with men of genuine talent who could served to build a better China.[20]

Published in 1980 and revised in 1999, Ross Terrill’s unsympathetic view of Mao remained unchanged over the years; if anything, his criticism of Mao is even harsher. Terrill argues that Mao’s malevolence increased relative to his rise in power. He portrays Mao as a humble peasant during his Yan’an days who cared little for his subject’s homage; he read all of the letters sent to him from the public and was sensitive to the plights of the peasants. But by the 1960s, at the apex of his power, Mao had an unquenchable appetite for reverence; yet, he became so distant and distrustful of his followers that he spent most of his time secluded in his study with the company of books and young women.

In chronologically partitioning Mao’s life according to eight distinct stages,[21] Terrill argues that Mao began and ended his career as a secular pragmatist; in between that time, he embraced Marxism only to be disillusioned by it. But even though there were many “different Mao’s” Terrill questions whether he was ever a benign ruler. He argues that Mao’s rise to malice emerged the very moment the PRC came into being in 1949. According to Terrill, the Cultural Revolution had after the Hundred Flowers campaign, for the failure of the movement not only resulted in Mao’s doubt and disillusionment with socialism, it also made him suspicious of all criticism against his rule.

Mao used “revisionism” as his weapon in attacking opponents while shrewdly leaving its meaning indeterminate so that he could subjectively utilize it in his attacks. Mao would ally with anyone as long as he was useful to him but would discard the person like a “used Kleenex” the moment he saw fit.[22] In 1980, Terrill insisted that China would have been better had Mao died twenty years earlier; by 1999, he contends that Deng’s triumphant revitalization of China confirms his claim. In arguing that China could have followed Deng’s successful policies decades earlier, Terrill maintains that Mao had tragically held China back from modernization.[23]

Although Li Zhisui’s The Private Life of Chairman Mao is controversial in that it offers an unsavory view of Mao with few sources to support his claims but his own reminiscences, it is nonetheless an insightful study since it represents the recent accounts of CCP émigrés. Because he was Mao’s personal physician, Li accompanied him on most of his activities; hence, his accounts are particularly illuminating in that they resolve some of the uncertainties about Mao that historians have had over the years. Indeed, according to Pye, Li’s psychological portrait validates much of his earlier analysis of Mao’s psyche. Pye asserts that Li’s accounts have finally allowed him to confirm in a 1996 revision of his book that Mao was indeed a “narcissist with a borderline personality,” a statement he had hesitated to use in 1976 for fear of backlash by the intellectual community.[24]

More significantly, Li Zhisui reveals that Mao was inept at running a government. Mao had no regard for America’s nuclear weapons, for he believed that China’s large population could sustain any nuclear holocaust. In fact, Mao did not live according to a time schedule; working during the night and sleeping during the day, Mao had most of his CCP meetings while in bed wearing pyjamas.

Fascinating as may be, Li’s memoirs carries a vendetta in that it attacks Mao’s character; his illustrations become especially explicit and shocking the further he progresses in his accounts.[25] He is particularly revealing about Mao’s sexual activities. Not only did Mao have an insatiable appetite for women, especially attractive and naive peasant girls, Mao had numerous accomplices who proudly recruited females for him. Li even charges that Mao was homosexual, for he forced young males to satisfy his sexual favours. However, Ross Terrill explains that Li’s bitterness against Mao’s debauchery stemmed from the resentment against his own father’s infidelity.[26]

In contrast to Li’s intimate depiction, Philip Short’s Mao: A Life does not place interpretation of Mao’s character as its central theme. Instead of explicitly denouncing his actions, he offers the political, diplomatic, as well as military facts of Mao’s career and lets the record speak for itself. As opposed to the limited sources that were available earlier researchers, Short takes advantage of accessing classified archives previously unavailable to researchers.[27] Hence, his research revises many of the suppositions made by previous scholars.

I disputing earlier notions that Mao’s Cultural Revolution was astutely planned and executed, Short reveals that the much of events had transpired spontaneously and most of Mao’s decisions impulsively implemented. According to Short, it was the girl dancers in the conservative Red Guard troupe who frequented Mao's bed that successfully “persuaded the Chairman” in supporting their cause. Because of their inducement, the Cultural Revolution took an unexpected turn as the conservative Red Guards regained power and prolonged the struggle.[28] In evaluating Mao’s part in the Great Leap Forward and Cultural Revolution and anti-rightist campaign disasters, Short argues that Mao’s record indeed places him as one of history’s greatest murderers.[29]

In contrast Terrill or Short’s scathing views, some recent scholarship has attempted to reinterpret Mao’s career. While they do not disagree that Mao’s career was flawless, revisionists such as Andrew Walder and Lee Feigon argue that in order to better understand Mao’s legacy, we must first deconstruct the existing biases in western scholarship. Feigon’s Mao: A Reinterpretation argues that Mao’s opponents who control the current mainland regime have distorted our view of Mao.[30] Walder’s “Actually Existing Maoism” further contends that the negative connotation of Maoism is a Western “reconstruction” very different from “actually existing Maoism.”[31] Mao’s intentions were never malicious, for his main purpose was to create a socialist utopia; the subsequent chaos that occurred in his campaigns was never intended.[32]

Feigon goes one step further in his defence of Mao in arguing that his policies, including the Cultural Revolution, were successful in the long run. Not only did Mao end corruption in the CCP, he extended education for everyone and had helped revitalize Chinese culture, all the while maintaining growth in agricultural economic production.[33] In using Stalin as Mao’s main base for comparison, Feigon argues that Mao was far tolerant individual who valued talent and consultation. Far from bloodthirsty, Mao was lenient in punishing his opponents; in fact, Feigon claims that most of Mao’s tarnished image was due to his subjects intention to fulfill quotas. As for economic disasters, Mao had little responsibility, for the state did much of the planning.[34] Feigon even disputes the existence of any personality cult. In his view, Mao allowed consensus and made sure uncensored news were available to all CCP members.[35]

However, whether for or against Mao Zedong, there remains the question that is inadequately unanswered by his biographers: What factors led to Mao’s ability to control such an enormous population? Mao’s biographers seem to evade this issue, for they focus mainly on his role (or non-role) in the creation of the Communist state. While admirers such as Chen and Schram assert that Mao’s role was essential for the revolution, opponents such as Wilson, Terrill and Short concur that Mao had hindered the nation’s modernization; yet, both sides never quite explain why Mao never suffered any real power struggles. Scholars tend to redirect the issue to Mao’s luck, arguing that he was a survivor and crafty politician who was always in control of his destiny and whose power was almost mythical. But why had Mao, unlike Hitler or Stalin (as many like to compare with), never experienced any coup d’etat or assassination attempts? As a dictator, did Mao really have such a stranglehold on such a vast populace? If so, how did he maintain it? Because much of the scholarship is still Mao-centred, there seems to be a great deal yet to be learned about the controversial rule of this enigmatic figure of Chinese history.

Bibliography:

Ch’en, Jerome. Mao and the Chinese Revolution. London: Oxford University Press,

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Feigon, Lee. Mao: A Reinterpretation. Chicago: Ivan R. Dee, 2002.

Guillermaz, Jacques. “The Soldier.” Mao Tse-tung in the Scales of History. Ed. Dick

Wilson. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: 1977, 117-143.

Li, Zhisui. The Private Life of Chairman Mao. Ed. Anne Thurston. New York: Random

House, Inc., 1994.

Lifton, Robert Jay. Revolutionary Immortality: Mao Tse-tung and the Chinese Cultural

Revolution. New York: Random House, 1968.

Oksenberg, Michael. “The Political Leaders.” Mao Tse-tung in the Scales of History.

Ed. Dick Wilson. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: 1977, 70-116.

Pye, Lucian. Mao Tse-tung: The Man in the Leader. New York: Basic Books, Inc.,

1976.

Pye, Lucian. “Rethinking the Man in the Leader.” China Journal. 35 (January, 1996):

107-112.

Schram, Stuart. Mao Tse-tung. New York: Simon and Schuster, 1966.

Schwartz, Benjamin. “The Philosopher.” Mao Tse-tung in the Scales of History. Ed.

Dick Wilson. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: 1977, 9-34.

Short, Philip. Mao: A Life. London: Hodder and Stoughton, 1999.

Terrill, Ross. Mao: A Biography (1980). Stanford: Stanford California Press, 1999.

Walder, Andrew. “Actually Existing Maoism.” Australian Journal of Chinese

Affairs. 18 (July, 1987): 155-164.

Wilson, Dick. Mao: The People’s Emperor. Sydney: Hutchinson, 1979.

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[1] Chen’s main sources are limited to Edgar Snow, Robert Payne, Benjamin Schwartz, and Mao’s childhood friends, Siao Yu, and Emily Siao.

[2] Jerome Chen. Mao and the Chinese Revolution. London: Oxford University Press: 1965, p. 4-5.

[3] Chen views Mao as a belonging to the new generation of “self-strengtheners,” such as Kang You-wei and Liang Qichao. Ibid., p.7.

[4] Choosing to ignore Mao’s ideological texts, Schram instead analyzes Mao’s poetry, particularly those written during the Long March in dissecting Mao’s political and personal profile.

[5] Stuart Schram. Mao Tse-tung. New York: Simon and Schuster: 1966, p.16.

[6] In particular, the The Water Margin (Shuihuzhuan) and The Three Kingdoms had the greatest influence on Mao. Indeed, Schram attributes the CCP’s conquering of Tsunyi, Guizhou due to Mao’s diligent understanding and emulation of Liu Bei’s campaign in The Three Kingdoms. Ibid., p.167.

[7] Ibid., p.206.

[8] However, in defending Mao, Schram dubiously sidesteps the violent terror campaigns launched by the CCP during the thought-reform campaigns. Ibid., p.250-252.

[9] Ibid., p.304.

[10] Ibid., p.98-99.

[11] Ibid., p.117.

[12] Ibid., p.142.

[13] At the time of the publication, Mao was already 74 years old. Many commentators, including Lifton, believed Mao was frail and near the end of his life. Robert Jay Lifton. Revolutionary Immortality: Mao Tse-tung and the Chinese Cultural Revolution. New York: Random House: 1968, p.8-9.

[14] Ibid., p.151.

[15] Stuart Schram. “The Marxist.” Mao Tse-tung in the Scales of History. Ed. Dick Wilson. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: 1977, 68-69.

[16] According to Oksenberg, Mao’s authority was weak during the PRC’s early years between 1949 and 1955, when decision-making was delegated among party members. Between 1955 and 1959, Mao gained power during the “Great Leap” campaigns. His power waned between 1960 and 1965 after his campaign failed. However, his power reached climax between the years 1966 and 1969 of the Cultural Revolution, only to subside for the last time between 1969 and 1976, when decision-making was delegated to Jiang Qing and the Gang of Four. Michel Oksenberg. “The Political Leader.” Mao Tse-tung in the Scales of History. Ed. Dick Wilson. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press: 1977, p.72.

[17] Ibid., p.137-138.

[18] Ross Terrill. Mao: A Biography (1980). Stanford: Stanford California Press: 1999, p.15, 25.

[19] Indeed, Wilson argues that Mao was never a great thinker. He points out that large sections of Mao’s “On Dialectical Materialism” was directly plagiarized from other authors. Dick Wilson. Mao: The People’s Emperor. Sydney: Hutchinson: 1979, p.190-192.

[20] Ibid., p.451.

[21] Terrill’s eight stages: 1) Mao began with his embrace of universal individualism (youth); 2) belief in proletarian progress (1920s); 3) peasant revolt (1930s); 4) guerilla communism (Yan’an period); 5) building of the nation through socialism; 6) disillusionment with socialism (1950s); 7) loss of philosophical and moral values; and finally, 8) return to highly subjective individualism (1970s)

[22] Ross Terrill. Mao: A Biography (1980). Stanford: Stanford California Press: 1999., p.465.

[23] Ibid., p.465-467.

[24] In fact, Pey contends that Li Zhisui’s accounts far exceeded his initial reservations of Mao. “Rethinking

the Man in the Leader.” China Journal. 35 (January, 1996): 108-110.

[25] Pye asserts that some of Li’s accounts had “crossed the doctor-patient confidentiality.” Ibid., p.107.

[26] Indeed, Li is sympathetic to Jiang Qing’s plight despite their animosity, for he contends that her

wickedness was caused by Mao’s unfaithfulness and her constant fear of his abandonment.

Ross Terrill. Mao: A Biography (1980). Stanford: Stanford California Press: 1999, p.15.

[27] Short also supplements written sources with his own oral interviews with people who worked under Mao. Philip Short. Mao: A Life. London: Hodder and Stoughton: 1999, p.643.

[28] Ibid., p.574.

[29] Ibid., p.631.

[30] According to Feigon’s rational, the Communist bureaucrats, that Mao “tried to eliminate have been allowed to shape our understanding of Mao. They have created a world in which the perpetrators of evil have often come to be seen as its victims.” Lee Feigon. Mao: A Reinterpretation. Chicago: Ivan R. Dee: 2002, p.4-5.

[31] Andrew Walder. “Actually Existing Maoism.” The Australian Journal of Chinese Affairs. 18 (July, 1987), p. 156-158.

[32] Ibid., p.164.

[33] Lee Feigon. Mao: A Reinterpretation. Chicago: Ivan R. Dee: 2002, p.139-150, 164-165.

[34] Feigon claims that Deng Xiaoping was the person who promoted the Great Leap Forward and carried out its policies. Ibid., p.97.

[35] Again, Feigon contends that the personality cult was the creation of Mao’s underlings. Deng Xiaoping was most responsible for carrying out the crackdown of the reactionaries prior to his own demise in 1966. Ibid., p.114.