Chapter 275: The Propaganda Offensive

However, this sparrow was a bit too small. Lin’gao was a small and poor county with a small population and no prominent scholars with official connections. Without strong support from the local gentry, these grand government institutions, which relied on local finances, gradually fell into disrepair after only a few years of existence. The magnificent yamen buildings also became dilapidated. Except for the Confucian school, which the county had to maintain, the others had long been empty. The Grain Collection Bureau occupied the most magnificent of these, the Daoist Affairs Office. This former official Daoist management department of the Great Ming had no Daoist priests, not even statues or altars, and looked very desolate.

Wu De valued the official style of this yamen—compared to other yamen, its gatehouse and main hall were larger, which would provide enough office space for future expansion. He had the Lin’gao Construction Company rebuild and renovate it on the original site, turning it into the yamen of the Grain Collection Bureau.

Although it was a yamen of the Great Ming, it operated in a modern style. Behind the horseshoe-shaped wooden counter sat the first batch of graduates from the National School’s tax crash course. Other features such as the one-meter line and railings for queuing were also in place. Moreover, there was a stricter system of order here than in the other world. A few yamen runners, who had been screened and retained from the study class, swaggered around with whips, specifically to maintain order in the queue.

Many people came to declare voluntarily, but many others were reluctant. In their view, the ultimate goal of surveying the land was inevitably to tax all the land. Although many landowners might not be able to use “flying sprinklings” or “deceptive entrustment,” it was easy to conceal the amount of their land.

But the Australians’ threat was also clear: anyone who failed to declare and register by the deadline, or made a false declaration, would have their unregistered land confiscated and turned over to the public—no one doubted that the Australians would do what they said.

The Transmigration Group used a modern “violent propaganda” model to remind the people everywhere: hurry up and declare! Dingding launched a large-scale propaganda campaign. Every few days, a propaganda team would go to the countryside, beating drums and gongs to publicize the land declaration. Colorful notices and posters—as the common people called them—were posted all over the villages.

The posters produced by Zhou Dongtian’s printing factory were genuine woodblock prints. The woodblock New Year picture artisans painstakingly carved the designs designed by the Propaganda Department onto wooden boards and then printed them in several colors. The effect was not good, but the cost was low, making them suitable for propaganda posters. The most shocking of these was a man in a flying fish robe with a fierce face, pointing at you with the words below: “You, have you declared honestly?!”

This noisy, aggressive propaganda was something the common people had never seen before. In the past, besides the grain collectors who came to press for taxes in the autumn and the occasional peddler, no outsiders ever came to the villages. Now, strange propaganda teams arrived: men and women in strange clothes, driving covered ox-carts or pushing beautiful handcarts.

As soon as they arrived in a village, the liaison officer would beat a gong to gather all the villagers, old and young, to listen to the lecture. The propaganda team leader would read out the notice from the Grain Collection Bureau about the land survey and its importance.

After he finished speaking, the propaganda vehicle with a loudspeaker would play a majestic song that people had never heard before, over and over again. The passionate melody broke the tranquility of the countryside. In the intervals between the songs, a loud male or female voice would shout slogans:

“Measuring the land benefits the country and the people!”

“Clarifying the taxes is a hundred-year plan!”

“Deceiving the Grain Collection Bureau is deceiving the emperor!”

“Resisting the survey is a dead end!”

“Declare early, benefit early!”

…

The slogans were so loud they could be heard outside the village, making people’s ears ring. These slogans would also be painted on the walls of the village. Under the ox-carts were personnel seconded from the army and the National School, carrying notices, paste buckets, brushes, and ink buckets, painting slogans and posting notices all over the walls. Even the walls of the pigsties were not spared. Army soldiers with rifles and county runners with clubs stood around like fierce wolves, reminding the people that the threats in these slogans were by no means empty words.

After the policy propaganda team left, the cultural propaganda team would follow, singing and talking about the benefits of surveying the land and clarifying the taxes. There were no cultural and recreational activities in the countryside. Even a monk who could chant scriptures could gather a large crowd. After the performance, they would also distribute a kind of beautiful candy, transparent sugar cubes in various colors. Not to mention the children, even the adults were tempted—this was the fruit candy produced by the food factory.

The propaganda offensive of carpet bombing had a great effect. Originally, the government was just a distant and vague existence. Now, it was by your side at all times, sometimes as a propaganda team, sometimes as a wall full of notices and slogans, constantly reminding you what you should do and subtly threatening you with what would happen if you didn’t. The effect was quite significant.

Under this constant and repeated hammering, more and more people came to declare voluntarily. Some small and medium-sized landlords and landowners knew that there was no possibility of escaping if they delayed. Those who knew the times were wise, so it was better to declare obediently.

After hesitating for a few days, Fu Bu’er finally took his land deed to declare. Before he left, his wife did not, as in the past, throw herself on the ground and roll around, trying to stop him. She just stared at Fu Bu’er blankly, with a look of bewilderment.

Fu Bu’er, who was originally dissatisfied with his wife’s nagging, felt a little sorry for her. He thought that this woman had always been for the sake of their family property, and his heart softened a little.

“Don’t worry, haven’t the Australians been good to us?” Fu Bu’er said with a confident look. “They won’t let us suffer a loss.”

He wasn’t too sure about this in his heart. But the help of the Heaven and Earth Society and the recent new measures in grain collection had made Fu Bu’er have great trust in the Australians. He believed that the Australians would not do anything to harm the people.

So Fu Bu’er, carrying his land deed, a backpack with dry food and water, set off for the county town to register with many people from the village. When they passed by Fu Yousan’s gate, the old man looked at them with the eyes of a wise man looking at fools:

“Go on, go on, all of you walking into a trap!” Fu Yousan muttered to himself with a look of having foreseen everything.

His eldest son, Fu Yizhuang, by his side, was not so confident:

“Father! The declaration is almost done in the village…”

“Let them go. We won’t move.”

“But the Australians are coming to the countryside soon. Our family has so much land, we can’t hide it from them!” he said, timidly looking at the large slogan painted on the opposite wall: “Resisting the survey is a dead end.” The character for “dead” was painted particularly large, almost occupying the entire wall.

“What are you afraid of!” Fu Yousan suddenly lost his temper. “I don’t believe the Australians are all gods!” he said, stamping his cane fiercely. Fu Yizhuang was so scared he flinched, thinking his father was going to beat him with the cane again.

Fu Yousan’s confidence was not without reason. The Fu family had the most land in Meiyang Village. And a large part of it was hidden in a valley in a hilly area near the village. Although the terrain was not particularly treacherous, it was far from the village and the main road, with dense forests and tall grass, and complex paths that ordinary people could not find. Fu Yousan had built a small estate there, where his youngest son lived with a few trusted servants and their families, farming the land. Even Chen Minggang, who knew the land situation of the whole county like the back of his hand, only knew that the Fu family had hidden land, but he didn’t know how much or where it was. He just used this to extort some money from them.

“The land on the estate was originally reclaimed wasteland without a deed,” Fu Yizhuang said in a low voice. “It doesn’t matter whether we declare it or not. But the land near the village can’t be hidden. We have to make a gesture to get by…”

Fu Yousan put on a lecturing face: “Exchange for a new deed? When the Australians leave, won’t it be a piece of waste paper?”

“The new land deed is still from the government. The Grain Collection Bureau is run by Magistrate Wu of the county,” Fu Yizhuang explained.

Although Fu Yousan was the head of the Fu clan, the largest family in Meiyang Village, and the richest man in the village, with a look of disdain for everyone and a need to mock everyone to show his elderly wisdom, he was most afraid of officials. Even if a yamen runner from the county came to the village, Fu Yousan would be so scared he would hide and not dare to meet him, only sending his sons and nephews to deal with it.

Hearing that the Grain Collection Bureau was run by the county yamen, and that Wu Ya, the “second-in-command of the county,” was in charge, Fu Yousan’s originally calm expression immediately became flustered.

“You rebellious son!” he cursed. “Why didn’t you say this earlier!” he said, hitting Fu Yizhuang on the head with his cane.

“The notices have been posted in the village for days…” Fu Yizhuang said, feeling wronged after being hit for no reason.

“How dare you talk back!” So Fu Yizhuang was hit again with the cane. “Quick, copy the notice and let me see it!”

In a large office of the Grain Collection Bureau, a blackboard was set up. On it was a progress chart. All the registered villages in the county were posted on it with paper strips. Beside them were small paper flags of different colors, with the latest progress numbers written on them.

Wu De updated this progress chart every day based on the latest data sent in—since the Grain Collection Bureau’s yamen was renovated, the leadership group had moved here from Zhang Youfu’s estate to facilitate the grasp of the land survey matters.

On the blackboard, there were only a few small red flags indicating 100% completion. Most were just over half.

“The progress is starting to slow down.” Wu De glanced at the newly drawn weekly comparison chart next to him. This week’s increase rate was lower than the previous weeks.

After the large-scale propaganda offensive began, the number of self-declarations increased rapidly, but in the recent week, the growth rate began to decline significantly. This showed that the effect of the propaganda was fading.

He called Dingding:

“…The effect of the propaganda is fading. You need to think more and see if there are any new propaganda methods.”

“I understand, but there are too few propaganda vehicles. Can you allocate a few more? Especially the loudspeakers on them.”