Chapter 49: That Time I Handed Out National IDs in South America. (3)

TL: Skye

Isabella came back the following evening.

"Your Excellency, I've compiled proposals for implementing the Resident Registration Project in the provinces."

She set three files on the desk with a grave expression.

"Is the one on top the proposal that received majority support?"

"It is."

"Let's have a look."

As I opened the file, she began her briefing.

"It's a conciliatory approach through education. The idea is to use the dormitories as bait to win over the laborers working on the plantations, thereby weakening the Plantation Owners' influence."

"Not a bad approach. If the laborers rise up en masse, the Plantation Owners would be terrified."

As a nation develops and society becomes more sophisticated, workers' rights naturally grow stronger. It was arguably the most fitting approach for San Marcos in this period of rapid change.

"But I do have some concerns. The Plantation Owners have built up considerable power over many years. What happens if things escalate into violence?"

"That's why I personally recommend the second option."

I opened the second file as she continued her explanation.

"The plan is to mobilize the National Tax Service to collect back taxes on unreported income."

"So you'd use taxes as leverage to bring the Plantation Owners to heel."

"Correct. There will be resistance, but the advantage is that the justification is airtight. If we set a reasonable figure and negotiate, I expect the Plantation Owners will cooperate willingly."

"A rational choice, very much your style, Isabella."

"You flatter me."

That left only the third file. A familiar name caught my eye at the bottom of the document.

"This one... was written by Director Lucio."

"It was."

Given the man's tendencies, it was almost certainly a hardline approach. I opened the file, and sure enough, it outlined something drastic.

"Retroactively collecting rent for Unauthorized Occupation... The pushback would be fierce, wouldn't it?"

"Yes, which is why most of the Senior Secretaries opposed it. The land belongs to the state, but the crops growing on it are the individuals' property."

"That's certainly true."

This kind of problem was quite common in rural Korea, too.

Village elders who couldn't stand the sight of empty land would plant all sorts of things on it.

The issue was that no matter how unauthorized the occupation, the harvested crops legally belonged to whoever planted them.

The same applied here. The Plantation Owners had indeed occupied state-owned land without authorization, but the vast majority of it had been abandoned wasteland.

They had turned that land into functioning farms and generated steady revenue for the state, so it was hard to justify coming down on them too harshly.

'If we push too hard, they might just flee into the mountains.'

My thoughts deepened. How could I achieve the best outcome with the least damage?

'There's no way nobody gets hurt. In that case, the only option is to choose the path that makes the most people happy.'

After a long moment, I made my decision, feeling as though I were coughing up blood.

"We proceed with all of them, first through last, staggered over time."

"...Pardon?"

Implement every policy to drain the Plantation Owners of their power.

'If I'm thinking about provincial administration going forward, I can't just leave them be.'

There was no other way to secure the happiness of the many through the sacrifice of the few.

Hit them as fast and as hard as possible, then compensate them separately. That was a hundred times the right call.

"They don't pay taxes, they squat on state-owned land... We can't just let that stand, can we? We have to show them that the law still means something."

At my words, Isabella's eyes trembled faintly, and then, as if struck by some profound realization, she bowed her head with a resolute expression.

"Understood. I will convey Your Excellency's intentions without fail."

***

After leaving Yu-jin's office, Isabella went to the underground secure room and assembled the Senior Secretaries.

"His Excellency has..."

The Senior Secretaries, eager to learn which of the three proposals had been selected, watched her expectantly. She met their gazes with composure and spoke.

"He has ordered a bloody purge. It appears he intends to use this opportunity to demonstrate what the authority of the state truly means."

"...Then the third proposal was selected?"

"No."

Isabella shook her head slightly.

"He ordered all three proposals to be implemented."

The room swallowed hard in unison.

"Is he going to have the Plantation Owners arrested and executed, or..."

"No. It seems he intends to stop at collecting back taxes and outstanding rent."

"And if they fail to pay?"

"Then they pay with their bodies."

At her blunt answer, the Senior Secretaries began to tremble.

"Steel yourselves, all of you. Failure will not be tolerated."

The Senior Secretaries nodded with hardened eyes.

If they wanted to make sure His Excellency's blade never turned their way, they had no choice but to give everything they had.

*

A coffee plantation village in southern San Marcos. A truck pulled into the dusty village square.

Vehicles almost never made it out this far, so the arrival was more than enough to draw the villagers' attention.

A loudspeaker crackled to life.

"Ahem, mic test. Good day, everyone!"

The villagers began to gather one by one, and the Ministry of Education official riding in the truck climbed down with a friendly smile.

"Come, come, everyone look this way!"

He handed out flyers as he explained.

"A dormitory has been established in Libertad! You can send your children to school now."

"A dormitory...?"

"What's that?"

"Simply put, it's a place that feeds and houses them. It's fully equipped for studying, so your children can focus on their education."

The crowd began to murmur.

"How much does it cost? We can't afford anything like that..."

"Not to worry! His Excellency has graciously decreed that it will be completely free of charge! The only condition is that both parents and children must complete their Resident Registration!"

"F-free?!"

"Good heavens...!"

The word "free" made the villagers' eyes waver.

It wasn't as though they didn't know. If they didn't educate their children, those children would end up living the exact same lives they did. They hadn't refused out of indifference; the wall of reality had simply blocked the way. But if the state was laying the groundwork like this, that changed everything.

It was a building where their children could study, and it meant one less mouth to feed at home. There was no reason not to send them.

"H-how do we register?"

"It's simple. You ride this truck to the nearest field office, and that's it. We'll bring you back too, so the whole thing takes about six hours."

The procedure was easier than expected, and everyone's faces brightened.

"I want to do it!"

"Take me too, please!"

Just as the villagers were raising their hands one by one...

"Who the hell's causing trouble on my land?!"

...a rough shout rang out, and a group of menacing men came storming in.

It was the local Plantation Owner and his enforcers.

From the way the villagers flinched and stumbled backward, it was clear how ruthlessly the man had kept them under his thumb.

"You're not working, so what the hell are you doing?! Get lost, now!"

A razor-sharp fury.

But the Ministry of Education official didn't so much as blink.

"Are you obstructing official government business right now?"

"Government business? Don't give me that crap! Hey, get this bastard out of here!"

At the Plantation Owner's command, his men advanced with axes and machetes.

They probably expected that would be enough to send the official running.

"Haah... I was hoping to handle this with words."

The official let out a deep sigh, reached inside his jacket, and...

Bang!

Fired a pistol into the air.

"Aaargh!"

The approaching men screamed and dropped to the ground. Staring back at them was the smoking barrel of a handgun.

"Don't make the mistake of thinking I won't shoot. His Excellency has ordered summary punishment for anyone who disrupts these briefings."

The official leveled the muzzle at them and asked.

"So, what'll it be? Keep interfering and get a hole in your head? For the record, I'm former military, and at this range, I can hit nine out of ten shots."

That was right. One of San Marcos's more notorious old laws: with few exceptions, only former military personnel could become civil servants.

Yu-jin had abolished the law shortly after taking office, but that didn't change the fact that the overwhelming majority of current officials were still ex-military.

"If we understand each other, stop making trouble and go home. Next time, I shoot without warning."

"Eek!"

The Plantation Owner and his thugs fled, and the official turned back to the villagers with a bright smile, as if nothing had happened.

"Well, now that the nuisance is gone, let me continue the presentation. Right this way, please."

*

Meanwhile, at the National Tax Service operations room in Libertad.

"Did the Customs Service data come through?"

"We've got it!"

Ricardo, Senior Secretary for Finance, and the National Tax Service staff under the Ministry of Finance were working at a frenetic pace.

"Good. Starting now, we reverse-calculate income tax based on the last ten years of exported coffee bean volumes. They're habitual tax evaders anyway, so feel free to round up when putting together the bills."

"Yes, sir!"

And so, about a month later, once the Ministry of Education officials completed Phase One, the conciliatory approach, it was the Ministry of Finance officials' turn to deploy.

Given the circumstances, they were essentially a tax collection special forces unit, equipped with body armor and rifles.

With the Ministry of Education's cooperation, they fanned out across the country, showing up at Plantation Owners' doorsteps with tax collection notices.

"National Tax Service. We're here to collect your unpaid income tax of $540,000 for the past five years."

"W-what? $540,000?"

Predictably, most Plantation Owners tried to stonewall.

"I've never made that kind of money! What kind of nonsense is this?! I'm not paying! Do your worst!"

"Well... we can't exactly do our worst, but you can pay it off with labor."

Those who carried His Excellency's orders, however, showed no mercy.

"Special Administrative Order No. 4. Tax delinquents shall be sentenced to labor until full payment is rendered. If you continue to resist, you'll be sent to Tortilla Farm in the Central Basin... So what'll it be? Pay the taxes, or work it off at $15 a day?"

"......"

In the end, the Plantation Owners had only one real choice.

"No matter how I look at it, the math seems off. If you could just shave a little off..."

"If you believe the calculation is incorrect, please file a formal appeal with the National Tax Service."

They emptied out their savings and paid their taxes in full.

Being the wealthiest people in San Marcos, at least they managed to avoid being hauled off to Tortilla Farm.

In the end, all they could do was gather together and curse the government.

"This goddamn country! That son-of-a-bitch president! What has the government ever done for us, and now they're shaking us down for taxes!"

"At least we still have the land. We can start over."

"Right. Work the slaves fourteen hours a day and we'll recover in no time. This time we cut their wages and..."

Just as they were spinning their little fantasy of a comeback, dreaming of recovery...

Knock, knock.

...came a polite rapping at the door, followed by men in suits walking in alongside soldiers.

"Good day. We're from the Ministry of Land."

"The Ministry of Land? What are you doing here..."

The official pulled a thick stack of documents from his briefcase, smiled pleasantly, and said,

"We're here regarding the matter of your Unauthorized Occupation of state-owned land."

"...What?"

"It appears you've been operating a farm on state-owned land without authorization. For twenty-four years, since 2001, no less."

"N-no, that land was just sitting there abandoned, so..."

"We're aware of the circumstances, but the law is the law. We will be retroactively billing you for twenty-four years of rent on the forty acres you've been operating."

"Rent..."

"Please don't worry too much. His Excellency, in his boundless generosity, has specifically instructed that the rent be set at the lowest possible rate."

"R-really? How much is it?"

"Fifty dollars per acre per month. That's a bargain, wouldn't you say?"

A bargain indeed. The problem was the scale and the duration.

"Forty acres, so that's $2,000 per month. $24,000 per year. Over twenty-four years, that comes to a grand total of $576,000."

The Ministry of Land official added, driving the nail in.

"Oh, are you perhaps short on cash? His Excellency, in his boundless generosity, has said that if payment is difficult, you may go to the central farm and work it off. At $15 a day, you'd only need to work for a hundred and five years straight with no days off."

"Guh...!"

Across the nation, Plantation Owners foamed at the mouth and collapsed.

*****

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