Over the weekend I noticed a very favorable review in the WaPo of a book that might interest certain friends of the decanter, entitled Mao:  The Real Story.

Written by Alexander V. Pantsov and Steven I Levine, and apparently based in large part on a Russian language study of Mao recently written by the former author,  the book evidently provides a lot of documentary evidence of the marching orders Mao received straight from the Kremlin and establishing him as a first class rat-bastard Stalinist.

Not that I personally think Mao was especially ideologically driven.  Stalinism was a means to him, not an end.  And the end had nothing to do with the transformation of a backward medieval empire into a glorious workers’ paradise but was instead really nothing more than a psychotic “will to power”.  Mao was all about Mao and to hell with everybody else.  (Which, come to think of it, also describes old Uncle Joe himself pretty well.)

It never ceases to beggar belief, at least my belief, that while everyone agrees on the eeeeevilness of Hitler and even most soft lefties have come to grudgingly admit that Stalin had problems, there is still a very large group of people who ought to know better who continue to view Mao as hip, who think of him as a visionary and even think him kinda cute and adorable.    I certainly hope that I never get to the moral state in which I can justify, apologize for or dismiss the champeen genocide of world history so lightly.

 

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