Alive and Well in Peking

Time and again, Mao Tse-tung has dropped out of sight for extended periods, only to make a dramatic reappearance—swimming in the Yangtze River, standing atop the Gate of Heavenly Peace in Peking, greeting a visiting dignitary. Last week, after yet another tantalizing absence, Mao was back again, this time to welcome Ethiopia's Emperor Haile Selassie to Peking. As one of the 27 aides who accompanied the Lion of Judah told it, the Chairman seemed in the pink. Mao "was smiling and waved his arms to greet his royal visitor," he reported. As the two leaders began their private 105-minute talk, Mao was "in a very good mood, ready to make jokes."

It was Mao's first public appearance since early August, and it scuttled, once again, speculation that he might be dead or gravely ill. Nonetheless, the materialization of Mao only served to complicate the mysteries that have enveloped Peking since early last month—notably the sudden cancellation of the Oct. 1 National Day parade.

Champion Pragmatist. Most analysts remain convinced that the events reflect a sharp policy debate. Almost certainly, the debate involves the coalition of moderate army and government leaders who hold most of the levers of power in China these days and the fire-breathing leftist radicals who blossomed during the Cultural Revolution. The fact that twelve out of the 21 members of the Politburo have not been active in public for at least a month suggests that the struggle is being waged at the very top levels of government. All along, however, Peking has been working hard to dispel suspicions that Mao's regime is in turmoil, or even paralysis. That may be one reason why the Chinese were so ready to accept and announce Henry Kissinger's impending second visit to Peking.

Nevertheless, something was obviously amiss. Five weeks ago, just after a Chinese jet with nine aboard crashed mysteriously deep in Mongolia, the entire Chinese air force was abruptly grounded; with rare exceptions, it still is. The three top military chiefs, including Army Boss Huang Yung-sheng, one of the leading scourges of the radical left, have not been seen in more than a month. The most visible man in Peking these days is durable Premier Chou Enlai, the champion of the pragmatists. Last week, in a meeting with a diverse group of 70 Americans—among them Black Panther Huey Newton and Old China Hand John S. Service—at the Great Hall of the People, Chou pointedly invoked Mao's name in defending China's recent approaches to the U.S.

No Sense. But Chou's high profile does not necessarily mean that the moderates have won out. After Chou, the liveliest figure on the Peking scene nowadays is Mao's wife, Chiang Ching, the reddest of the Red Guard leaders during the Cultural Revolution. For nearly two years she was out of the limelight. But the current issue of the English-language propaganda magazine China Pictorial features eleven color photographs reportedly taken by the multifaceted Mme. Mao. One was an unusual portrait of Mao's long-missing heir apparent, Lin Piao. Lin, who was last seen in June, was pictured reading the Chairman's Little Red Book—but without the army cap that he almost always wears to hide his balding head.