China: Peking Puzzles

There he was, apparently hale, saying nothing but acknowledging with a wave the cheers of the 500,000 celebrators jammed into Peking’s Tien-anmen Square for Communist China’s 20th anniversary. To the solemn strains of The East Is Red, Chairman Mao Tse-tung made his first public appearance in 4½ months, confounding reports from Moscow that he had suffered a serious stroke. Japanese newsmen and British diplomats emphasized that, at 75, he seemed in excellent health. For the time being, that put to rest doubts about whether Mao was still around—except among Moscow sources, who insist that he has at least two doubles.

Aside from Mao’s materialization at Tienanmen (the Gate of Heavenly Peace), what most intrigued China experts was the evidence, coming from both Peking and Moscow, that a fresh effort to heal the Sino-Soviet rift might be under way. Not once during his 15-minute keynote speech did Defense Minister Lin Piao, Mao’s heir apparent, specifically denounce the Soviets by name. Instead of damning the “Soviet revisionist renegade clique,” he restricted himself to the euphemism “social-imperialism.” To be sure, he stressed China’s military might, but the emphasis was defensive. “On the vast land of China, wherever you go,” he warned possible invaders, “there will be your burial ground.” Lin made no mention of the fact that China had set off its first underground nuclear explosion and tested a hydrogen bomb in the atmosphere just before the anniversary.

For their part, the Russians put out even more conspicuous signals. Moscow’s message congratulating the Chinese on the Oct. 1 anniversary of Mao’s takeover, longer and more positive than last year’s, stressed the need to negotiate differences. Sino-Soviet trade talks were under way in Moscow—though analysts were quick to point out that these talks have been held annually, even in the worst periods of Sino-Soviet tension. There were other signs as well. Two hundred thousand copies of a stinging anti-Mao broadside were withdrawn a day after they went on sale in Moscow; a check of bookstores in the capital indicated that all other anti-China books had also been quietly removed. A Yugoslav press report, originating in Moscow, said that both Soviet and Chinese troops were withdrawing from forward positions along their common Far East border.

If there was uncertainty about Sino-Soviet problems, there was an equal amount of speculation over what seemed to be a shift in Mao’s relationship to China’s army. Peking usually describes the army as having been “founded and led personally” by Mao and “directly commanded by Vice Chairman Lin.” Now, however, the phrase has been changed to state that the army is “commanded directly by Chairman Mao” and Lin. To outsiders, that seemed an absurdly small clue, but changes of this sort are not made absentmindedly in Peking; analysts believe that Mao is attempting to underscore the party’s control of the army. One reason may be to counter speculation in the West that the army has been running everything in China as a result of the chaos caused by Mao’s cultural revolution.

A further puzzle was the absence from the celebration of those Politburo members who are headquartered outside Peking. Did continuing unrest in the provinces keep them close to home? Nobody was sure—and that is perhaps the most striking thing about Communist China as it begins its third decade. Though it is the world’s most populous nation, it has drawn so tight a curtain around itself that virtually nothing of its present policies, personnel and problems is known for certain.