In October 2018, Mr. Chen forwarded to me the first draft of this book and briefly introduced the author. I was immediately moved by the fact that, at nearly ninety years of age, the author was still so determined to complete a 300,000-word work of such length. After reading it carefully, however, I discovered that many of his viewpoints differed from my own. Therefore, I refrained from commenting on the manuscript, so as not to dampen the author’s enthusiasm.

Unexpectedly, the author took no offense. Instead, with an open attitude, he invited me to write a preface for the book. Such broad-mindedness appears to be the result of many years spent in the United States, where his thinking was well nurtured and freed from narrowness and prejudice. Since neither of us is troubled by differences in opinion, I will take this opportunity to offer some personal reflections after reading the work.

The author has surveyed a vast body of material published before and after the Cultural Revolution—documents, revelations, and commentaries concerning Mao Zedong’s life and even posthumous evaluations. These materials are both abundant and scattered; many points cannot be verified, and numerous judgments remain controversial. Thus, the author adopts a form close to fiction to weave together such complex sources. This demonstrates his ingenuity, though it inevitably approaches dramatization.

I greatly appreciate the evaluation of Mao given by veteran CCP leader Chen Yun: “He had a role in founding the Party; he made contributions in founding the nation; he was incapable in governing the country; and he bears guilt for the Cultural Revolution.” Power corrupts. The greater, longer, and more extreme the power, the more thoroughly it corrupts.

Mao was born into a relatively well-off peasant family in Shaoshan, Xiangtan, Hunan. From receiving a traditional village education to traveling through nearby counties with paper, brush, ink, and inkstone, he would have witnessed the suffering of the common people and hoped for change. At that time, Mao Runzhi was not unlike other progressive young Chinese seeking intellectual advancement. Driven by a thirst for knowledge, he attended normal school and then sought opportunities in Beijing. With the help of friends, he obtained a respectable position at the Peking University library—one that allowed him to support himself while continuing his studies.

His intelligence was high. Had he devoted himself to rigorous scholarship, he might well have become a master on par with Kang Youwei, Liang Qichao, Hu Shi, Liang Shuming, or Chen Yinke. Indeed, he won the appreciation of Professor Yang Changji, and Yang’s daughter, Yang Kaihui, gave herself in marriage to him.

What, then, was the true reason he left Beijing and turned instead into a leader who admired violent peasant uprisings? It was surely not as simple as reading Marxist works translated from Russian into Chinese by figures such as Chen Duxiu and gradually becoming a believer in communism. Perhaps we might compare him with Hitler of Germany. The paintings Hitler left from his youth suggest that, with greater effort, he might have become a fine artist. In this respect, Hitler and Mao Runzhi share a curious parallel.

After Mao became the “Long Live” ruler, his subordinates exalted his thought as the pinnacle of contemporary Marxism-Leninism—an exaggeration that can only be treated as a historical joke. In fact, Mao himself knew during his lifetime that many people no longer believed in Marxism. On his desk lay volumes of Zizhi Tongjian, and his study was filled with exquisite thread-bound classical books. Photographs and documentaries from before and after the Cultural Revolution made this clear to the world.

From the Zunyi Conference until his death, Mao enjoyed forty-one years of power—rising from a mountain strongman in Jinggangshan to the ruler of the entire nation. During that time, he experienced repeated ups and downs, crises and restorations of authority. In order to preserve this absolute power, he became accustomed to sacrificing everything and everyone else. He had already completed the transformation from reformer to feudal autocrat and undergone the corruption inherent in that change.

Mao’s imperial guard, known as Unit 8341, is widely known. He lived to the age of eighty-three and held power for forty-one years. The coincidence between these numbers and “8341” is striking. Did this numerical coincidence create in the supremely intelligent Mao a premonition or psychological pressure? The claim that “a true materialist fears nothing” hardly applies to this “ten-thousand-year ruler.”

This “sun that never sets,” this self-styled great monarch—if his spirit were to ascend before the Jade Emperor after death, would he willingly kneel? In the 1940s in Chongqing, did he not lead cheers of “Long live Chiang”? Within a few years, he drove Chiang to Taiwan. In the 1950s, when promoting the Great Leap Forward, the People’s Communes, and the General Line—the “Three Red Banners”—he wrote poetry proclaiming vast transformations of heaven and earth. His court poets quickly composed corresponding verses that were circulated nationwide and even entered school textbooks:

“There is no Jade Emperor in heaven, no Dragon King on earth.
I am the Jade Emperor, I am the Dragon King.
Commanding the mountains and rivers to clear the way—I have arrived!”

This poem both catered to and exposed Mao Zedong’s desire to be the supreme “son of the dragon” on earth and the Jade Emperor in heaven.

Consider also the contrast between two songs. The “Internationale,” familiar to communists, declares: “There has never been any savior, nor do we rely on gods or emperors…” Yet during the Cultural Revolution, the song “The East Is Red” replaced the national anthem, proclaiming: “China has produced a Mao Zedong; he is the great savior of the people.” The lyrics appear contradictory, yet in another sense not contradictory at all. They can be understood intuitively, and perhaps also explained explicitly.

Ancient emperors had remonstrating officials by their side. Mao, however, was elevated under the slogan of “greatly establishing the absolute authority of Mao Zedong Thought.” He was proclaimed the creator of the pinnacle of Marxist knowledge. The entire nation was required to heed Chairman Mao’s teachings. By that logic, he should long ago have become the leader of the world.

Since Einstein’s equation E=MC² gained recognition, and with the advent of computers and robots controlled by computers, human understanding of the world has entered a new era. We know that matter and energy can be transformed into each other. Humanity need not exploit others to obtain what Marx called “surplus value.” Computers and robots can replace heavy intellectual and physical labor. This development fundamentally challenges materialism and refutes Marxist theory at its core. Those who still cling to this doctrine, no matter how they attempt to elevate it to a peak, remain incompatible with modern science and the theories that sustain it. No matter how much absolute power they wield to impose it on others, they cannot avoid the outcome described in the ancient line: “Beside a sinking ship, a thousand sails pass by; before a withered tree, ten thousand trees bloom in spring.”

Returning to this book, the author at times seems to portray Mao’s crimes as the result of being misled by subordinates, sparing Mao even the need for self-defense. This interpretation is unlikely to be accepted even by cadres within the Communist Party. In truth, both crimes and mistakes are the product of top-down influence combined with flattery. The early Cultural Revolution slogan that “everyone shares responsibility for erroneous remarks” later forced Mao’s successors to proclaim “Long live the victory of Mao Zedong Thought” as justification for their own conduct. This attitude became entrenched and continues to steer China toward disaster.

The positive significance of this book lies in encouraging some readers to reexamine the history of the “first thirty years and the latter thirty years.” Perhaps through such reflection, deeper understanding may emerge.

NEXT: Preface III: A Heavy Hammer Striking the Deified Image of Mao Zedong