One word from Chairman Mao is worth ten thousand from others.

The words of Lin Biao—“One word from Chairman Mao is worth ten thousand from others. His every statement is truth. We must carry out those we understand as well as those we don’t”—reveal both the fervor and the peril of devotion to authority. Spoken in the heat of revolution, they were intended as a hymn of loyalty, exalting the leader as more than man, as voice of destiny itself. To Lin, Mao’s word was not mere opinion but living truth, a compass for the multitudes, binding hearts together in unity of purpose. Yet to us who stand beyond that moment, such words must be weighed with wisdom, for they are filled both with the fire of inspiration and the shadow of warning.

In ancient times, kings and emperors were often clothed in the mantle of the divine. Their voices were taken as the will of Heaven. The Egyptians saw the pharaoh as god incarnate; the Chinese emperors ruled under the Mandate of Heaven. In such ages, the command of the ruler was not to be questioned, for to doubt him was to doubt the order of the cosmos. Lin Biao’s exaltation of Mao flows from this same river: the desire of a people in turmoil to anchor themselves in the certainty of a voice that promises order, direction, and salvation. In chaos, men long for a single, unshakable truth.

Yet, history also speaks with another voice. When men raise the word of one above all others, they risk binding themselves to chains unseen. The tale of the Qin Dynasty teaches us this. The First Emperor, Qin Shi Huang, sought to unify all under heaven. His decrees were law, his word unchallenged. At first, unity seemed strength. But the silencing of voices, the burning of books, the exaltation of one will above all others, sowed seeds of ruin. For truth that cannot be questioned becomes brittle, and brittle things shatter when tested by time. Lin’s words, therefore, are not merely praise, but also a mirror showing how loyalty and blindness may walk hand in hand.

And yet, let us not scorn the hearts that believed. In Mao’s time, millions yearned for direction, for hope against hunger, war, and oppression. To them, Mao’s word seemed like a torch in darkness, a promise that the sacrifice of one generation would build the strength of the next. The Long March, in which Mao led his followers through thousands of miles of peril and hardship, gave flesh to his myth. Soldiers who survived famine, battle, and storm believed they had been carried not merely by endurance, but by the guiding truth of their leader. Here we see the power of belief: it can sustain armies, build nations, and overcome despair.

But belief, untempered by discernment, is a double-edged sword. Consider how in later years, during the Cultural Revolution, the words of Mao—treated as absolute truth—were carried out with blind zeal, even when their meaning was obscure, even when they brought pain and ruin. Lin’s command to obey even what was not understood became a chain upon the people, binding them to decisions whose wisdom could not be questioned. Here lies the great paradox: a word exalted as perfect truth can unite, but it can also destroy when followed without reason.

What, then, is the lesson for us? It is this: revere wisdom, but never surrender your judgment. Honor the teachers, leaders, and guides who give light, but do not chain your soul to any single voice. Truth must be tested, weighed, and lived. Even the words of the mighty are but vessels for greater realities. To call every word of man infallible is to give away the freedom that truth itself requires. The ancients taught balance: to follow leaders with loyalty, yet to keep the inner flame of discernment alive, lest loyalty turn to bondage.

Therefore, let this teaching settle into your heart: do not despise authority, but do not worship it either. Seek wisdom in every voice, but bow only before truth itself. Follow leaders when they walk in justice, but if they stray, let your conscience remind you that no man is greater than truth itself. Practically, this means questioning even those we admire, studying deeply the words we do not yet understand, and never surrendering reason to blind obedience. In this balance lies true strength: loyalty without slavery, faith without folly, and freedom joined to wisdom.