“Mao Tse-Tung, who for decades held absolute power over the lives of one-quarter of the world’s population, was responsible for well over 70 million deaths in peacetime, more than any other twentieth-century leader. He was born into a peasant family in a valley called Shaoshan, in the province of Hunan, in the heartland of China. The date was 26 December 1893. His ancestors had lived in the valley for five hundred years. This was a world of ancient beauty, a temperate, humid region whose misty, undulating hills had been populated ever since the Neolithic age…”
- Jung Chang and Jon Halliday, Mao: The Unknown Story
Mao Tse-Tung – popularly known as Chairman Mao – was one of the titanic figures of the twentieth century, if not all of history. From humble beginnings, he rose rapidly in a time of chaos, war, and revolution, taking control of the Chinese Communist Party, wresting one of the world’s great nations from Nationalist leader Chiang Kai-Shek, and birthing the People’s Republic of China, which is today the most populous – and one of the most powerful – countries on earth.
This accomplishment did not come without costs. Mao was a brutally-focused leader who pursued his superpower goals without regard to human lives. He is responsible for tens of millions of deaths, many from enforced famines that came not from bad harvests, storms, or droughts, but because he was willing to trade needed food for weapons and technology that would allow him to achieve his dreams of global force projection.
The consequences of his actions – not just deaths, but enslavement, imprisonment, and the destruction of historical and cultural artifacts – puts Mao in certain rarefied and dubious company. Nonetheless, despite being comparable to only Adolf Hitler and Joseph Stalin in terms of grave-making, Chairman Mao lived a charmed life, and has enjoyed an equally-charmed afterlife.
During his reign, Mao had a broad base of international support, from the American journalist Edgar Snow, to the French writer Jean Paul Sartre, who called Mao’s “revolutionary violence” a thing that was “profoundly moral.”
Today, at a time when even revered historical figures like Abraham Lincoln and Mohandas Gandhi are being critically reinterpreted, Mao remains startlingly impervious. He stares eternally out from his famed portrait on the Tiananmen Gate, a strange Mona Lisa smile on his lips, guarding the entrance to Beijing’s Forbidden City.
In Mao, authors Jung Chang and Jon Halliday try to change all that on their own, and all at once. The result is a vigorous attack on the Chairman that works better as a polemic than as a biography.
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Structurally speaking, Mao is superb. Having never read about the man before, and having only just begun studying Chinese history, I found this incredibly user-friendly. The authors employ the Table of Contents as an outline, dividing the book into 6 parts, further subdivided into 58 chapters, many of them quite short, assuring that the reader never gets bogged down. Most of the chapters have pedantic names that tell you exactly what you are about to read. For example, there is no mystery about what’s to come in a section called “Takeover Leads to Death of Second Wife,” or “Chiang Kai-Shek Kidnapped.”
Providing further assistance, each chapter has a date-range, and provides Mao’s ages during that particular period. This allows Chang and Halliday to intersperse strictly chronological chapters, with those that are more thematic, without risking confusion.
Judged as a purely literary artifact, Mao is forgettable. The best that can be said of the prose is that it’s clear and grammatically sound. While this isn’t nothing, it would have been nice – at some point in this doorstopper – to have come across an evocative scene or passage.
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In terms of scope, this is a literal cradle-to-grave bio. On the first page, Mao is born, and on the last page, Mao finally dies. Between those two markers, Chang and Halliday tend to stay very close to their subject.
The advantage of this tight focus is that Chang and Halliday can streamline the material a bit, condensing ten volumes’ worth of coverage into 617 pages.
The downside is that a lot of context is lost. Little effort is made at explaining the bigger picture. The authors also assume a lot of foreknowledge, so that instead of properly introducing the “Long March,” they just jump right into revising it. Additionally, fascinating supporting actors – such as Chou Enlai – never become definable personages in their own right. The authors spend an entire chapter discussing the worldwide failure of Maoism, without ever defining Maoism in the first place.
Depending on how much you already know about Mao and China, this might not be a big deal. As a newcomer, I probably should have started elsewhere.
***
Chang has a PhD in linguistics, and Halliday is a historian, and together, they compose a charming husband-and-wife team.
It’s worth noting that Chang was born in China, and her parents were Communist officials, meaning that for her, this is personal. This background gives her an advantage over western historians looking outside-in. Throughout Mao, the authors correct – or at least alter – certain translations, mention speaking to many Chinese men and women who lived through Mao’s rule, and personally consulted Chinese-language sources.
***
The research here seems enormous. The authors claim to have worked on this for ten years, and it’s believable. There is a fourteen-page list of interviews, and eighty-five pages of notes.
For all that work, Mao was sharply criticized and quite controversial when it was published in 2005. I started to explore this aspect, then quit, realizing that much of the tempest is lost behind internet paywalls and dead links, while some of it seems like sour-grapes from professors upset that Chang and Halliday made the bestseller lists, while their monographs languish in library basements.
As best I can tell, most of the contretemps has to do with certain specific allegations, such as Chang and Halliday’s argument that Chiang Kai-Shek allowed Mao to escape during the Long March, as part of a longer game. While they have cited numerous sources for this contention, the authors fail to specify what each source actually provided, making it hard to verify.
I don’t know enough to have a strong opinion either way, but as an attorney, I’m not unfamiliar with arguments. To that end, I found Chang and Halliday to be irritatingly certain of their conclusions, and frustratingly peremptory in their deductions. There were times I wanted to believe what they were saying, but found myself unable, without better evidentiary support.
Still, none of the criticisms I saw of Mao ever challenged the notion that he did really bad things.
And that’s why my main issue with this book is hard to explain.
***
The devastation that Mao wrought is vast. Chang and Halliday do a good job of finding ordinary people caught in the bloody churn of his wake. His spirit should not be allowed to float free and unencumbered by the psychic weight of his self-created calamities. Western academics who think the deaths of a few tens of millions of people is okay, as long as it’s for a good cause, need to recalibrate. College students – including my sophomore-year roommate – should probably think deeper about what it means to celebrate Mao and the CCP, because that’s a tenuous ethical position.
With that said, the battering tone that Chang and Halliday employ actually undercuts their position. They are so relentlessly negative – Mao was a sexual predator; Mao was a bad husband; Mao was a hypocrite; Mao had terrible hygiene and probably stank – that it becomes distracting.
Meanwhile, they never settle on who Mao was, or what drove him to his ends. They often contradict themselves, sometimes stressing Mao’s imbecilic ideas, other times treating Mao as the grand puppet-master, denying others any agency while they dance on his string. Though I spent six-hundred pages with the man, I have little notion about his motivations, his personality, or why so many willingly followed him. Before he got to the top, he had to get to the top, and nothing in Mao demonstrates why this happened.
In short, Mao is probably one of humanity’s alpha criminals, yet Mao is somehow too harsh to be entirely credible.
***
When Mao finally passed from the scene, Deng Xiaoping undid many of his works, leading China to superpower status not by toppling monuments or giving away its grain, but by introducing a socialist market economy, where private ownership exists alongside state enterprises.
In that sense, Mao’s legacy is being left behind. But while current President Xi Jinping is unlikely to revert to the Chairman’s crude economic system, he shares Mao’s love for the concentration of power into fewer hands, and in his belief of a globally-influential nation. Thus, one cannot understand China without attempting to understand Mao, just as one cannot understand our modern world without understanding China.