Chapter 140: Special Propaganda
“It’s alright. The Grand Library has already deleted the parts about the origins of the Ming Cult and the Ming Dynasty. It’s not a big deal. The parts about Zhu Yuanzhang have also been completely revised, so there shouldn’t be anything taboo.” Zhao Yingong said, “It’s just that the plot is a bit stiff now, and it reads very strangely.”
Zhou Dongtian nodded. The export of books to the Ming Dynasty was less about making money and more about the needs of foreign propaganda work—exporting new scientific and technological views, values, and cultural perspectives, promoting the “Australian lifestyle,” disrupting the thinking of the Ming people and intellectuals, and subtly carrying out “peaceful evolution.” Although this method could not change the face of the entire society in the short term, it would at least plant the seeds of “pro-Australian” sentiment in the minds of some people, cultivate a batch of “quislings,” and reduce the resistance to future social reforms.
However, exporting books involved the social and historical background of literary works and the issue of technology diffusion in popular science works. Zhou Dongtian knew that there had been great debate within the Yuanen Senate about which types of scientific and technological books should be exported and which technologies must be restricted and kept secret. Some Yuanen believed that no technology should be exported, while others believed that disseminating some basic scientific knowledge would be beneficial to the overall cause.
Zhou Dongtian believed that the current European missionaries were vigorously using the export of European science and culture to attract some knowledgeable people within the Ming Dynasty to convert to Christianity. In contrast, Australian goods were mostly presented as “curious and ingenious contraptions,” and many people showed a strong interest in Australian science and culture, which was superior to Western technology. If they strictly kept secrets just for some illusory “threats,” it would only shut these people out.
He certainly did not advocate for the unrestricted and arbitrary dissemination of technology, but there was no harm in disseminating a lot of common scientific knowledge. For example, the “Introduction to Optics” printed this time was considered easy to understand by the Yuanen, but in this time, it was definitely high-tech. This popular science book was intended for readers with a junior high school education level in the old world. Such readers were almost non-existent in this time.
Zhou Dongtian was in favor of printing and selling more similar popular science books. Many popular science series and agricultural technology series compiled for rural youth and educated youth in the 1960s and 1970s could be used for publication and sale to the Ming Dynasty. Although their ultimate fate would mostly be to be treasured as some kind of “strange book” in libraries that were not easily shown to others.
The dissemination of some simple knowledge and technology would not pose any threat to the Yuanen Senate under the current conditions. In the material conditions of an agricultural society, much of the knowledge and technology disseminated was completely impractical because the social environment had no possibility of realizing it. On the contrary, it would lead many people who were interested in and could study it to discover that the only place where they could truly realize their ambitions and ideals was Lin’gao…
As for some technologies that were practical in the current social environment, such as scientific farming and breeding, they were only beneficial to Lin’gao because the Yuanen Senate had a strong demand for agricultural products. From this point of view, the improvement of Ming agricultural technology was only beneficial to the transmigrators.
The limited export of technology and the large-scale export of culture was the dissemination route determined by the Yuanen Senate.
“After this batch of books is sold, there should be more demand,” Zhou Dongtian said with a smile. “I think the impact of comics will be huge. In fact, there are only a limited number of Jin Yong’s books that we can pirate. It would be better to pirate a large number of Liang Yusheng’s and Chen Qingyun’s works. Oh, and there’s also Huanzhu Louzhu—sword immortal novels should be more to the taste of the Ming people, right?”
The two discussed the next step of the publishing business. Zhou Dongtian and his group of Yuanen would be returning to Lin’gao soon. He planned to continue this cultural invasion career in Lin’gao.
“The next batch will be the Yuanen carrying out Operation Engine. Your place will be a constant stream of people. You’ll have to work hard.”
“It’s my job,” Zhao Yingong said. “I plan to arrange for this group to go to Phoenix Mountain Manor. There’s no need to arrange for them to enter Hangzhou again—if Zhang Dai spreads the word, Qinghefang will soon become a lively cultural salon. It’s better for the Yuanen to show their faces as little as possible.”
“Of course, of course. Have you set up your underground organization yet?”
Zhao Yingong was a little confused, but he quickly understood that Zhou Dongtian was talking about a secret organization that had no connection to his public identity and the Shanhai system.
“The Black Dragon Society system? I haven’t started on it yet—it’s a rather dangerous job. It requires a strong native executor to operate effectively,” Zhao Yingong said. “If the person is too strong, they’re hard to control; if they’re not ruthless enough, they’re useless.” He asked in return, “Do you have any plans?”
“A few days ago, a telegram came for me from Lin’gao.”
Zhao Yingong nodded. The telegram was received by the Hangzhou station’s radio, but it used another department’s code, so he didn’t know the content, only that the header indicated it was for Zhou Dongtian.
“The content is actually very simple. It’s about special propaganda…” Zhou Dongtian said, stroking his beard. The so-called “special propaganda” was a “euphemism” invented by Zhao Manxiong, which essentially meant “spreading rumors to confuse the public.”
The work of “special propaganda” had been carried out in Guangzhou since the victory of the second anti-encirclement campaign. The Guangzhou station had distributed a large number of “special propaganda” pamphlets, using sensational stories and various “truths” to shake the social foundation of the Ming Dynasty.
Facts have proven that sex and politics are always popular topics among the masses. Although this kind of propaganda could not change any reality in the short term, the proliferation of “truths” after the large-scale distribution of pamphlets showed that this method was still effective. A characteristic of an agricultural society is that news is mainly spread by word of mouth. The more sensational and explosive the news, the faster it spreads. Moreover, neither the government nor the gentry had sufficient means to refute the rumors. Often, they could only let the rumors dissipate on their own.
However, the dissemination of this method must be carried out by a secret organization and cannot be done by a “public figure” like Zhao Yingong. Otherwise, if something went wrong, the foundation of the Hangzhou station would be destroyed. Therefore, it was necessary to rely on an organization like the “Black Dragon Society” that specialized in grassroots work.
Zhao Yingong planned to take advantage of the 1631-1632 drought in Zhejiang, and during the period of relative social chaos, establish the underground organization of the Black Dragon Society. Of course, the specific organizers would be sent from Lin’gao. The Hangzhou station would only maintain a single-line contact with this organization.
“The pamphlets can be printed here. I plan to set up another small printing press in Phoenix Mountain Manor, specifically using a few woodblock printing craftsmen to do this. The couriers will bring the master copies, I’ll print them, and then quietly transport them out to be distributed by the Black Dragon Society. What do you think?”
“That’s good,” Zhou Dongtian said with a smile. “I know the Publishing Guidance Group has organized people to concoct a lot of messy stuff, basically a three-in-one of sex, politics, and lies. I’ve read a few, and they’re really creative…”
“Oh? Who wrote them?” Zhao Yingong’s curiosity was piqued. Before he left, he had seen some so-called “truth” pamphlets at the Foreign Intelligence Bureau. They were written very convincingly.
“It was done by a man named Zhang Haogu,” Zhou Dongtian said. “You don’t know him? He now has the title of Director of the Office of Truth in the Grand Library. All the books you sell in the Ming Dynasty are reviewed and revised by him.”
“Zhang Haogu? The name sounds familiar, but I can’t quite remember who he is…”
“Achoo!” Zhang Haogu sneezed loudly and took out a handkerchief to wipe his nose—Lin’gao had no such luxury as facial tissues. The only mass-produced daily-use paper was toilet paper made of straw and sanitary paper for medical institutions and women. Pure cotton handkerchiefs, a long-lost daily necessity, had reappeared in the lives of the Yuanen. It wasn’t inconvenient, as they had maids to wash their clothes and handkerchiefs every day.
He looked at the manuscript paper in front of him, densely covered with characters. Zhang Haogu had his own computer, but to save its lifespan, he only used it for certain important tasks, such as “find,” “replace,” and “keyword search.”
“It’s almost finished,” he said, stretching lazily. He flexed his sore wrist. On the rosewood desk were thick stacks of manuscript paper and a pile of used-up dip pen nibs—according to regulations, they had to be returned to the warehouse to get new ones. There was also a finely crafted inkstand, an imported European item from Macau.
Zhang Haogu picked up the manuscript on the table—the cover had the large characters “Memoirs of an Imperial Physician.” The manuscript was a thick stack, about three hundred thousand words, and had cost Zhang Haogu a great deal of effort. To write this book, he had even consulted Liu San on many questions to ensure that the concepts of traditional Chinese medicine in the book were correct.
Zhang Haogu was a Yuanen who had studied humanities and social sciences. This kind of specialty was not highly valued in the Yuanen Senate. He had been idling away his time in the Grand Library for a long time.
But he had found his own niche. He specifically submitted a proposal to the Executive Committee on historical issues, proposing that from now on, there should be a systematic “creation of history” and “control of history.” He proposed that this department be called the “Ministry of Truth,” to reflect that the truth, from ancient times to the present, was in the hands of the Yuanen Senate.
This proposal received “high attention” from the Executive Committee, and Zhang Haogu was given the position of Director of the newly established Office of Truth. But after taking office, he found that his main job was to work for the “Publishing Guidance Group.” This ad hoc body, composed of Ding Ding, the representative of the Ministry of Culture, Yu E’shui, the representative of the Grand Library, and Zhou Dongtian, the director of the printing press, had to compile and publish a large number of books and pamphlets. They originally needed to be “sanitized” to remove inappropriate parts. Zhang Haogu, who had offered his services, became the best available labor force.