Chapter 2081: Taizong Chronicles 23: Tax Reform Enters Deep Waters

The various struggles within the court had hardly ever ceased—between sovereign and minister, among ministers themselves, between the noble and the common, all alike. And that grand Mid-Autumn Festival celebration seemed merely a pause for rest, allowing all sides to conserve their strength, bide their time, and scheme, in preparation for the next round of confrontation.

Sure enough, barely three days after the Mid-Autumn Festival, before the smell of gunpowder in Luoyang's air had fully dissipated and while the lanterns and colored silks everywhere were still bright, more than a dozen memorials were presented onto the imperial desk of Emperor Liu Yang.

These were memorials Liu Yang could not afford to take lightly. Among them were policy proposals, remonstrance petitions, impeachments, and secret reports—but regardless of the form in which they were submitted, all concerned the tax reform still underway in the Great Han.

Counting from the time Zhao Pu was reinstated as chancellor, took charge of state affairs, and formally pushed forward the tax reform, it had now been seven years.

Any reform, under the forceful push of the central court, would be enough to produce some results in seven years—whether they be achievements or ill consequences.

It could be said with certainty that by the autumn of the first year of Yongxi, the Great Han's tax reform had been fully rolled out, with the results of the land survey being the most obvious marker. Even a remote circuit like Gaochang Circuit had reported its latest land survey data—though that was purely symbolic, a gesture of respect for the authority of the central government.

For the sparsely populated Gaochang Circuit, land and pasture data meant little; for a long time to come, population would be the core issue of governance there, and taxation was no exception.

Unlike the interior prefectures and circuits of the Great Han, after the first two or three years of exploration in the tax reform, the court had also timely adjusted the tax policies of the various northern border circuits, abandoning the initial practice of using pasture division as the basis for taxation—that approach had proven completely unreliable in practice and was virtually infeasible.

Therefore, for the border regions, especially the nomadic tribes, the court ultimately decided to levy taxes by head count. Even the presumptuous policy of "dividing land to households," which completely dismantled the tribal system, was also adjusted.

By the twenty-seventh year of Kaibao, the court's taxation of circuits such as Gaochang, Hexi, Yulin, Shanyang, and Yanbei had basically reverted to collecting cattle, sheep, horses, and camels according to tribal population. Of course, the new tribes and clans were reorganized under the court's household registration system—at least the old tribal forms maintained entirely by clan kinship had transformed into the mixed gatherings of various Hu peoples of today.

This was a conclusion reached after the court's own deliberation: for Hu and Han subjects engaged in nomadic production, a certain scale of organization had to be maintained—appointing tribal chiefs and clan leaders to manage, organize production, and collect taxes, which also facilitated the court's governance.

The north adapted measures to local conditions, and so did the south—especially the vast southwestern region. Setting aside other matters, the very peculiarity of the native chieftain system meant that taxation policies needed to be tailored accordingly.

Fortunately, because the court had maintained a steady pace in tax reform affairs, it had not yet had time to expand into the southwest before making timely adjustments.

For the southwestern prefectures and circuits, the court's plan was even simpler: directly collect a certain amount of tribute from the various native chieftains. As for how the chieftains managed and squeezed their mountain folk and barbarian subjects, that was their own business.

Nor was there fear of trouble breaking out—with the court's strength, it was more than enough to suppress any rebellious commoners or barbarians. Moreover, this was a balance that had developed over twenty or thirty years since the native chieftain system was extended throughout the great southwest.

But if the court were to implement tax reform in the chieftains' territories, conducting land surveys, that would indeed stir up great chaos. Special circumstances called for special treatment. But likewise, whether in the north or the southwest, among the border prefectures and counties there was no shortage of Han engaged in traditional farming, and there were also bureaucrats and landlords holding land—for these cases, naturally, the new system applied, all falling under land tax.

Then the question arose: first, how to distinguish landlords from native chieftains—this was nearly unsolvable. The tax reform in the southwestern prefectures and circuits had not yet been in place for three full years, but from the very start, disturbances had been incessant.

Chieftains rioted, landlords complained, and sometimes the two even united to resist the court's tax policies, while some bureaucrats deliberately muddied the waters. As vested interests, it was only natural for them to make all sorts of moves to protect their own benefits.

This led to constant unrest across the great southwest in a short period, with sharp conflicts—even cases of court-appointed tax officials being killed. What ultimately suffered, of course, was local public order and the court's authority, as well as those common folk who simply and peacefully accepted being exploited.

Back then, in view of the grim situation in the southwest, the court was greatly angered, especially at the inaction of local governments. For this reason, Liu Yang—then still Crown Prince—personally signed and issued decrees, replacing, dismissing, and even, in the routine manner of killing a chicken to warn the monkeys, removing a number of officials from circuits such as Jiannan, Qianzhong, Yunnan, Guangxi, and Annam, and ordering the circuit authorities to suppress the disturbances.

With the court applying pressure, the local powers could not hold out easily—after all, the central government's authority remained very strong. The various local factions reined themselves in, and within no more than a month, the disturbances ceased at once. However, while the great unrest stopped, small troubles continued unabated; amid the endless wrangling and confrontation, the progress of the tax reform was naturally delayed.

Regarding those disturbances in the southwest, the central government, even if not fully aware of every detail, had some understanding. How to break the deadlock, however, was a difficult question—not for lack of sufficient strength to act, but simply because it was not worth it.

Therefore, on Zhao Pu's proposal, the court secretly sent people to the southwestern circuits to test the waters, especially in those places where Han and barbarians lived intermingled and where clan landlord forces ran deep.

The tax reform was a major policy of the court, pursued with firm resolve and unwavering consistency—there could be absolutely no compromise. Every prefecture and circuit must complete the land survey, and the court would levy taxes based on it.

Although the balance of power was lopsided, what happened in the southwest was still a game between local and central authority. The "local worthies" did not dare truly defy the court, and they still had to give some face to the central government.

Therefore, over the following year or so, the southwestern prefectures and circuits gradually reported their land survey results to the Ministry of Revenue. Then, on the recommendation of Han Hui, then serving as Finance Commissioner, it was decided to calculate taxes based on the reported figures plus an additional twenty percent.

Of course, the gentlemen of the Hall of State Affairs also understood that even so, there was still some padding in the numbers—but this counted as a compromise reached between the court and the southwestern prefectures and circuits. Similarly, the north followed the same approach, for as border regions, maintaining stability justified some special policy treatment, which was normal practice.

Of course, the fundamental reason was that neither the north nor the southwest was the focus of the court's tax reform. In those places, whether the results were achievements or disasters, they could hardly shake the foundations of the Great Han.

If in the first two years of the tax reform, the capital region and Henan Circuit—as pilot areas—were already beset by incessant disputes and resistance, drawing much attention and conflict from all sides,

then looking back from the first year of Yongxi, seven years later, after entering the deep waters of reform, the situation could truly be called a pandemonium of demons dancing wildly, with chaos in every form on display.