Even though Mao had broken all the rules, Shanghai endorsed him. Mao was insubordinate, but a winner. His ambition demonstrated the kind of lust for power essential to conquer China, especially when the Communist forces numbered mere thousands, up against millions on the Nationalist side.
There were two added factors that came into play in Mao’s favor at this moment. Two thousand kilometers north of his location the Russians controlled the Chinese Eastern Railway in Manchuria, which cut 1,500 km through northeast China from Siberia to Vladivostok. Along with this, Moscow had inherited from the Tsars by far the largest foreign concession in China, occupying well over 1,000 square kilometers. Communist Russia had initially promised to give up its extraterritorial privileges, but it never kept its promise, and the Chinese seized the railway in summer 1929.
Moscow formed a Special Far East Army, headed by its former chief military adviser to Chiang Kai-shek, Marshal Blyukher, and prepared to invade Manchuria. Stalin also mooted organizing an uprising in Manchuria to occupy Harbin, the major city in northern Manchuria, “and establish a revolutionary government.” With characteristic brutality, Stalin listed one aim, almost casually, in brackets, as: “(massacre the landowners …).” In November Russian troops invaded, moving 125 km into Manchuria.
Moscow wanted the Chinese Communists to create some diversionary military pressure. It ordered the CCP to “mobilise the whole Party and the population to be ready to defend the Soviet Union with arms.” It was in this context of protecting Russia’s state interests that Mao’s drive assumed urgent importance. Chou’s letter reinstating Mao enjoined: “your first and foremost task is to develop your guerrilla area … and expand the Red Army …” On 9 October the Soviet Politburo, with Stalin present, named “the regions of Mao Tse-tung” (no mention of Zhu) as the key area for expanding partisan warfare in connection with the Manchuria railway crisis.
Moscow had another pressing reason to single out Mao, and this was to do with Trotsky, Stalin’s bête noire, whom he had just exiled. Trotsky had a small, but dedicated, following in China, and Professor Chen Tu-hsiu, the former head of the CCP, cast as the scapegoat by Moscow two years before, was showing signs of tilting towards Trotskyism. Chen also spoke out against the CCP supporting Russia over the railway — a stance, he said, that “only makes people assume that we dance to the tune of roubles.”
Stalin was worried that Chen might throw his considerable prestige behind the Trotskyists. Moscow’s agents in Shanghai were concerned that Mao, to whom Chen had once been a mentor, might side with him.
For all these reasons, the Russians backed Mao, and promoted him with zeal in their media. During the critical months of the Manchuria crisis there were no fewer than four items about Mao in the Soviet Party’s key organ, Pravda, which was soon describing him as the “leader” (yozhd—the same word as used for Stalin). No other Chinese Communist was ever so lavishly acclaimed — not even Mao’s nominal superiors, like the Party general secretary.
When Chou’s instructions to reinstate Mao reached them, Zhu De and his colleagues bowed to Shanghai’s edict, and forwarded the letter to Mao. At the time, Mao was staying in a picturesque village some distance away, in an elegant two-story villa with a palm tree in the courtyard. He had been taking his ease, consuming plenty of milk (a rarity for the Chinese), as well as a kilo of beef stewed into soup every day, with a whole chicken on top. He would describe how fit he was, applying his characteristic yardstick: “I can eat a lot and shit a lot.”
The letter elated Mao. Far from earning him a reprimand, his violation of Party rules and sabotage of his colleagues had brought him only reward. In triumph, he lingered in the village for over a month, waiting for the pressure from Shanghai to pile on Zhu De to kowtow.
At the time, Mao had his wife, Gui-yuan, staying with him, as well as a couple of acolytes. He did not talk politics with the women, preferring to relax with them. After dinner the two couples would walk to a little bridge to enjoy the twilight over a brook lush with water-grass. When darkness fell, peasants would light pine torches at the water’s edge. Shoals of fish would converge on the beacons, and the peasants would catch them with nets, or even bare-handed. Fish heads were Mao’s favorite morsel, and were said to enhance the brain. During the day he sat by his window reading English out loud in his heavy Hunan accent, to the amusement of his friends. This stumbling performance, without really striving to progress, was a kind of relaxation for Mao.
Zhu De and his colleagues “wrote again and again urging comrade Mao to return,” as they reported to an obviously anxious Shanghai. But Mao stayed put until late November, when Zhu sent troops to escort him back formally, as a show of submission.
On 28 November Mao wrote Shanghai a letter that delighted Chou En-lai with its “very positive” spirit and declaration that Mao “completely accepts the Centre’s instructions.” But Mao’s main act of deference was reserved for Moscow. He condemned his old mentor Professor Chen as “anti-revolution,” and proposed a “propaganda drive” against him. A point was made of denouncing Trotsky by name. The troops were given daily pep talks on “armed support for the Soviet Union.”
Having subjugated Zhu, Mao kept him on as a figurehead, and let the army continue to be called the Zhu — Mao Army. This way, Mao both satisfied Moscow and Shanghai, which specifically ordered “unity,” and exploited Zhu’s high prestige among the troops. Zhu went on performing as a front-man for Mao for almost half a century until the two men died within weeks of each other in 1976.
Yet sometimes Zhu gave vent to his anger and frustration. In February 1931 he grumbled to military leaders that he was “just a plaything in Mao’s hands, he had no power, Mao just toyed with him.” This was reported to Moscow, but the Russians did not lift a finger to restrain Mao.
MAO’S RETURN TO COMMAND was announced to a big meeting of army delegates gathered in the town of Gutian in December 1929. To forestall dissent, he employed a ruse. He knew that what the soldiers hated most was the practice of executing deserters. According to a contemporary report to Shanghai, “every time before setting off, a few deserters would be executed and placed along the road as a warning to others.” Incidentally, this demonstrates how hard it was to keep people in the Red Army, contrary to oft-recycled claims. The fact was that even executions did not always work, as the report continued: “But we still can’t stop deserters.”
At Gutian, Mao made much of introducing a resolution to abolish the practice. This move was tremendously popular with the soldiers. But a few months later, when the Gutian resolutions were circulated, this item was not among them. Once Mao had established himself, it disappeared. Deserters continued to be executed.
Having inveigled the delegates at Gutian into looking more favorably on him by showing specious tolerance towards the issue of desertion, Mao was able to get what he really wanted: resolutions to condemn whatever stood between him and absolute power, notably the authority of the professional military. Mao was not a professional army man. Zhu was. So Mao invented a Soviet-style pejorative tag, “purely military viewpoint,” to lay down the line that it was wrong to place too high a value on military professionalism. He loathed the convention of voting even more, as it was a free vote that had turfed him out of office. So he labeled holding a vote as “ultra-democracy,” and abolished the practice.
Mao was addicted to comfort, while Zhu lived like an ordinary soldier. Aversion to privilege was particularly strong in the army because many had originally been attracted to join by the lure of equality, which was the Party’s main appeal. To quell any protests about privilege, Mao now invented the term “absolute egalitarianism” to designate an offense, adding the word “absolute” to make it harder for opponents to disagree. It was from this time on that privilege was formally endorsed as an inalienable part of Chinese communism.