Chapter 2570 - Heated Debate (Part 2)

Liu Dalin lifted his teacup, using the lid to push aside the floating leaves. He took a slow sip to moisten his throat and settle his emotions before speaking. "Everyone assumes the Bobo Army is invincible because of their powerful firearms—cannons that can devastate everything within dozens of li. But this is seeing only the leaves while missing the forest entirely..."

"Does Mengliang have a different view?"

"I do," Liu Dalin said, his mind drifting back to that afternoon many years ago when the Australians held their first public funeral. Wu Ya, the county vice-magistrate, had donned commoner clothes and a plain cap to blend in with the onlookers and observe. When he returned, he described the scene so vividly that Liu Dalin could still picture every detail.

"...No theater troupe's gongs and drums. No Daoist priests performing grand rituals. No women wailing in grief. Instead, honor guard soldiers marched in precise formation, rifles shouldered in perfect ranks. When the bugle fell silent, two drummers stepped forward, their military drums beating out a slow, measured cadence. Behind them came two black horses of a breed Wu Ya had never seen—tall and magnificent—pulling a black four-wheeled artillery carriage at a solemn walk. Upon it rested an unadorned wooden coffin. The horses' hooves struck the flagstones in time with the drumbeat. Everything was unprecedented. Nothing could have expressed mourning and grief more powerfully. The atmosphere was so intense that Wu Ya could barely breathe.

"At a sharp command, seven soldiers raised their rifles in unison and fired into the air—three volleys in succession. The crisp gunshots echoed off the hillside and faded into silence. In that stillness, the mournful bugle sounded again, its twenty-four notes playing slowly. Everyone present was moved to tears.

"As earth covered the coffin, Elder Wen Desi himself read the eulogy..."

Even now, recounting this story, Liu Dalin felt moved. "Who would have imagined such an elaborate funeral was held for an unknown common soldier?"

"It was really just for a dead soldier?" His classmates voiced their disbelief in unison. None of them had heard this story from any "Australia-expert," and it seemed scarcely credible.

"I later sent someone to verify it. The name carved on the gravestone was Li Shisan," Liu Dalin confirmed.

"Buying a horse's bones for a thousand gold pieces to win hearts," someone sneered. "I don't believe every Baldy soldier who dies in battle receives such a funeral."

"If you mean an identical ceremony, then no," Liu Dalin admitted. "But when military personnel are buried, there are always complete rites. Four times a year, soldiers and students sweep the graves and lay flowers. Year after year, season after season. Let me ask you: in our dynasty, setting aside common soldiers—even those who rise to the rank of General or Commander—does the court show such respect after their deaths?"

Silence fell over the room. The court held military men in low regard. Death in battle meant nothing more than routine condolences; posthumous honors were threadbare at best. As for annual tomb-sweeping, that depended entirely on family and friends.

"Support in life, burial in death. Then soldiers will fight—this is the natural order of things," Liu Dalin said. "In my view, the most ingenious feature of the Australian military system is the Soldiers' Committee."

"Soldiers' Committee?" Everyone struggled to keep pace with the new terms constantly flowing from Liu Dalin's mouth.

He explained: "The system established by the Senate is founded on equality for all. The Bobo Army has Soldiers' Committees at every level, composed of men elected by the soldiers themselves. For all matters concerning soldiers' interests—clothing, food, housing, transportation—these committees hold supervisory and investigative authority. If a commanding officer embezzles funds, violates soldiers' rights, or abuses his men, the Soldiers' Committee can appeal to higher-ranking officers or even military headquarters. Once verified, the officer faces severe punishment."

Following late Ming custom, most scholar-officials had studied military texts. Whether Sun Wu, Bai Qi, Han Xin, or Wei Qing, Huo Qubing, Zhuge Kongming—throughout history, commanders who wielded troops like divine instruments enforced discipline like immovable mountains and would behead offenders to establish authority. Generals who shared hardships with common soldiers were rare indeed. As for "subordinates challenging superiors"—that was outrageous rebellion. The saying went: "When commoners sue officials, even the innocent are guilty."

Zhao Xunru couldn't contain his doubt: "What Mengliang describes is truly unimaginable. If soldiers routinely lodge complaints, officers lose all authority. How can military orders be enforced? How can enemies be defeated in battle?"

But He Wuzhou interjected: "Brother Housheng is mistaken. Mengliang's point is that when deploying troops and charging into battle, soldiers must still obey officers' orders. Anyone who violates battle orders or cowers before the enemy cannot escape military law."

Liu Dalin nodded. "The Two Guangs are frontier regions of vital importance, yet military administration has fallen into decay. The ranks are depleted—Guangzhou especially so. But this isn't unique to Guangzhou; the entire realm suffers the same rot. Why? Military farming colonies were originally an excellent ancient method of both cultivating and defending. Yet colony commanders in the capital and provinces care only about enriching themselves. Some seize monthly wages. Some press soldiers into private labor and commerce. Some use levies to deduct stipends. Some reduce cloth rations on pretexts of drills and supplies. Soldiers wear rags, eat gruel, have no medicine when sick, no coffins when dead. They swallow their resentment in silence with nowhere to appeal. The colony lands in Chaozhou were famously fertile, yet most were secretly occupied by garrison officers or seized by powerful households. Colony supervisors extorted tribute money from soldiers and engaged in open corruption. How could soldiers not go hungry? Since the Zhengde reign, military ranks have become degraded and despised by society. Capital officials in ministries and censors, provincial military supervisors and military-civil governors—all heap pressure upon them. The Five Armies Command Office has become a useless appendage, its officers treated like errand boys. When Li Sunchen entered the Hanlin, he immediately changed to civilian registration and avoided any mention of his military household origins. Brother Longyou knows my words are true."

In truth, when Zhu Yuanzhang established the military household system, he hadn't intended to treat military households as a degraded class like the Later Jin and Southern and Northern Dynasties had. Military households, beyond the burden of military service and garrison administration, were no different from civilian households. There was no discriminatory policy. Many Ming officials came from military household backgrounds—most famously Zhang Juzheng.

But over generations of operation, the system had grown heavy with oppression and burdens. Mass desertions and concealment led the court to conscript criminals into the military or force civilian households to register. Gradually, military households' social standing plummeted. Civilians refused to marry them or associate with them. Though nominally commoners, they were often treated as little better than the base-born.

He Wuzhou's expression shifted at these words. Li Sunchen was his fellow townsman. After becoming Minister of Rites in Nanjing, Li had built walls around the public military household burial ground at Great Army Mountain and decorated the gate with "Minister's Ancestral Estate"—to distinguish himself from common military households. Only during the Qingming festival through the tomb-closing period each year would he open it for other military household surnames to enter and pay respects. This revealed precisely how low military status had sunk—the Li clan couldn't wait to erase any trace of their origins.

More critically, He Wuzhou himself came from military household background. Everyone present understood that Liu Dalin had named Li Sunchen rather than him directly to preserve his classmate's dignity.

"Indeed so," He Wuzhou acknowledged, wiping his brow.

Liu Dalin continued: "In the Bobo Army, officers and soldiers are equals. Officers may not humiliate soldiers—otherwise, there's the Soldiers' Committee to file complaints. Military marriages are protected by law. If some rake seduces a soldier's wife, the Senate punishes him severely. Soldiers earn two yuan monthly, with wages never passing through officers' hands. Pay is distributed face-to-face with no deductions. Meals are fully supplied by the military. Each year, two sets each of summer and winter uniforms are issued. The military employs special army doctors who treat illnesses for free, all possessing remarkable healing abilities. Support in life, care in sickness, burial at Jade Hill when dead. As Sunzi wrote: 'Which ruler has the Way? Which general has ability? Who has heaven and earth's favor? Whose laws are enforced? Whose troops are stronger? Whose soldiers are trained? Whose rewards and punishments are clear? By these I know who wins and who loses.'"

How could these scholar-officials not know that the Ming garrison system had long since collapsed? They had shifted to recruitment, yet enlistment and discharge lacked any mature system. Military social status remained low, and soldiers lived by the sword's edge. In Ming armies, wage arrears were common. Soldiers wouldn't fight; desertions were frequent. Some would collect pay from one army, then join another to collect again. As the saying went: "Good iron isn't made into nails, good men don't become soldiers." Respectable families would never send their sons to be common soldiers. Criminals, paupers, rogues, bandits, and drifters enlisting had become the norm. Soldiers and bandits were indistinguishable.

Yet Chen Zizhuang had to admit that Ming's circumstances were entirely different from the Baldies'. Even knowing the Australian military system had its merits, there was no way to emulate it.

He spoke up: "Though the Australians have a ruler, they call him a 'figurehead.' Figurehead means 'not real.' All power rests with the Senate. Is this not simply Cao Cao holding the Emperor hostage to command the lords? The Australians' so-called 'equality for all'—this is unprecedented upheaval in three thousand years, no different from the collapse of rites and music during the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods. Can father and son be equal? Filial piety is the root of virtue, the source of all teaching. Our bodies, hair, and skin we receive from our parents—we dare not damage them. This is how filial piety begins. To establish ourselves along the Way, make our names known to posterity, and thereby bring glory to our parents—this is how filial piety is completed. Filial piety begins with serving parents, continues with serving the sovereign, and ends with establishing oneself. Of the three thousand crimes under the five punishments, none is greater than unfilial conduct. Those who intimidate their sovereign recognize no superior; those who disparage sages recognize no law; those who are unfilial recognize no kin. This is the path to great chaos!"

Yao Dian agreed with Chen Zizhuang's view: "I've heard that the people of Lingao mostly violate human order, knowing no clan relations. When they have resentments they cannot contain, they take up clubs and beat each other at will—do they distinguish elders from juniors? Those people are ignorant of propriety and righteousness. Though born of the same womb, they feel like strangers from Hu and Yue. Though living under the same roof, they pass like travelers on the road. They calculate the tiniest profit and abandon the deepest affection—do they know brotherly duty? All this springs from thin customs and corruption of human relations—grave harm to morality. The Australians call themselves Song descendants. 'Crooked Prime Minister' Wang Anshi's reforms loudly proclaimed: 'Heaven's changes need not be feared, ancestral ways need not be followed, men's talk need not be heeded.' The Veritable Records of Emperor Shenzong assessed the New Faction as 'falsely claiming to continue, openly slandering and deceiving, exhausting false praise on Xining reform ministers.' Later ages all considered Song's fall the fault of employing petty men. Who are these petty men? Ding Wei, Cai Bian, Zhang Dun, Wang Anshi, and their ilk. Ancestors are the source from which our bodies emerged—established at birth and unchangeable. Honoring ancestors means carefully preserving ancestral teachings. Establishing clan leaders, clarifying genealogies—these ensure everyone knows their origins. Setting up clan fields and charity estates gives all widowed, orphaned, poor, and weak clan members something to rely on—this is how to unite the clan. This is a thousand-year legacy of clan law. Now the Australians practice evil laws, wanting to destroy our clans, scatter our people, transform Xia into Yi. Their hearts deserve death!"

Though the words rang with grand righteousness, everyone understood the reality clearly: the reason the Australians viewed clans as thorns in their eyes was simple—one shouldn't let others sleep soundly beside one's own bed. The Australians wanted to establish a Qin-First-Emperor-style system with laws reaching directly to the grassroots. They couldn't tolerate vast local powers within their domain.

Imperial statecraft had always been "outwardly Confucian, inwardly Legalist." The Australians' actions weren't anything novel to scholars. Yet though Qin ultimately unified the Six States, it also left the historical lesson of "falling after only two generations." The Han dynasty nominally "honored Confucianism exclusively" but actually practiced "outwardly Confucian, inwardly Legalist"—essentially a correction of Qin-era politics.

(End of Chapter)