Turning 'Grief into Strength'

Precisely at 3 p.m., the huge throng, estimated at 1 million, stood with heads bowed in Peking's T'ien An Men Square. After three minutes of silence, Premier Hua Kuo-feng delivered a eulogy to the dead leader, emphasizing his theoretical contributions to Marxism. When Hua had finished speaking, the master of ceremonies, Politburo Vice Chairman Wang Hung-wen, announced the playing of The East Is Red, then curtly declared that the final mourning services for Chairman Mao Tse-tung were over.

Throughout China, the Great Helmsman was mourned much as he would probably have wished. While hundreds of thousands of Chinese--bureaucrats and party officials, generals, peasants, children--filed past Mao's bier in a somber, emotional ceremony at Peking's Great Hall of the People (see box next page), millions more paid their respects by following the official admonition to "turn grief into strength."

No Sunday. Everywhere, the Chairman's death spurred redoubled efforts at earthquake repair and new construction. On the Sunday after Mao's death, TIME Diplomatic Editor Jerrold Schecter reported from Peking, "instead of taking the customary day off, thousands of workers, students and soldiers labored on the rebuilding of the gray stone homes that line the capital city's narrow alleyways; an estimated 30,000 houses were damaged by the July 28 earthquake. In Kweilin, southwest China's poetic wonderland of rivers, caves and mountains, mourning meant memorial meetings and work. Long lines of students one day walked sobbing along the main street of Kweilin with white paper wreaths for Chairman Mao. They were followed by peasants hauling grass and fodder on bamboo yokes, while motorized carts filled with building stones and charcoal lined the road. Construction is the watchword."

The post-Mao leadership headed by Premier Hua seems to be saying that the Peking regime will continue to function despite the genuine national grief over Mao's passing. An editorial published in China's major newspapers cited what was claimed to be a previously unpublished dictum from Mao: "Act according to the principles laid down." Mao's successors, the implication was, would follow the basic domestic and foreign policies established before the Chairman's death.

Almost everywhere, Mao was held up as a symbol of self-sacrifice and hard work. China's press devoted itself to condolences and tributes that poured in from all regions of the country. Some were from peasants or workers from areas that Mao had visited during his revolutionary career, recalling the Chairman's kindness or inspirational qualities. One, by the "8341 unit" of the People's Liberation Army, charged with sentry duty at Mao's Peking residence, Forbidden City, stressed his abstemious habits and concern for the masses. Mao, the soldiers noted, worked "at all hours," frequently "ignoring calls to meals" and seldom resting, even on holidays and festivals. His shirts, shoes, blankets and sheets were said to be "worn thin from many years of use"; Mao refused to have his quarters refurbished for 20 years after "liberation" in 1949. In short, Mao was a model of the selflessness that was the heart of his vision for a remade Chinese society.

In diplomatic matters, Peking emphasized a mood of business as usual. The Soviet Union was attacked with customary stridency. The Chinese officially rejected condolence messages from the Communist parties in Moscow and most of the Soviet-bloc countries, including Cuba and Mongolia. A diatribe against Moscow's policy toward the developing world was entitled "Soviet Quack Medicine Go to Hell." The Chinese also took delight in the defection to the West of MIG-25 Pilot Viktor Belenko (TIME, Sept. 20), cheering that it "put the Soviets in a fix and shamed them into a rage."

At the same time, Peking reaffirmed its main lines of policy toward the U.S. After Mao's death, Peking first stopped, then pointedly reinstated the three-week China tour of former Defense Secretary James Schlesinger, who in Chinese eyes is a symbol of American toughness toward the Soviets and skepticism of detente. In their talks with him, the Chinese have emphasized the dangers of appeasing Moscow far more than their own differences with Washington over Taiwan.

Mood of Moderation. To an extent, the new leadership must continue Mao's policy to maintain its own credentials. Moreover, moderation seems to be the mood of the country. Evidently, ordinary Chinese are simply tired of the nearly constant political tub thumping by the radical faction in Peking. Without Mao's active backing, the radicals in the leadership may find it difficult to pursue their preferred programs without risking a loss of support from powerful provincial leaders.

Thus for the moment, Hua Kuofeng, the firm but moderate Premier, seems in charge. He stood first in the lineup of leaders at Mao's mourning. He has also impressed foreign observers with his cool, adept handling of both the recent earthquakes and the obsequies for Mao. But will he consolidate his power, as Leonid Brezhnev did in the Soviet Union after the ouster of Khrushchev? Or will he, like Georgi Malenkov after the death of Stalin, eventually be relegated to obscurity? Many observers believe that he might endure, given the apparent strength of the moderates in China today. But the first indications of Hua's future may come out of the plenum of the Tenth Party Congress, and preparations for that already seemed under way last week. As the mourning for Mao drew to a close, no one could say whether the plenum would ratify the present leadership or mark the beginning of a bitter power struggle whose outcome few Chinese--and no outsiders--could possibly foresee.

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