In Chinese history, once the imperial court decided to "play dirty," the common people actually had no leverage whatsoever. History has repeatedly proven that when the power to make, interpret, and enforce rules is concentrated in one hand, the rules themselves can turn into a scythe at any moment. Take the "Empty Seal Case" during the Hongwu period of the Ming Dynasty as an example. The so-called empty seal refers to local officials pre-stamping on blank documents. This was not an impulsive bad habit but a practice that had persisted for decades, dating back to the Yuan Dynasty. The reason is very practical: when reconciling accounts between local and central authorities, even slight discrepancies in data require back-and-forth modifications and re-stamping, which is time-consuming, labor-intensive, and incurs high administrative costs. As a result, blank stamping became an accepted and relied-upon "bad custom." But the problem is that this bad custom itself is a product of systemic design flaws. However, Zhu Yuanzhang did not admit that the system had issues. For him, the system was always correct; any problems could only be due to officials' misconduct, leading to harsh measures and mass executions. System flaws were transformed into personal sins, ultimately corrected with bloodshed.
Looking at the Qing Dynasty's "Tanting into Mu" policy, Emperor Yongzheng regarded it as virtuous governance, but did fairness truly materialize? Which land was rated as excellent, and which as poor? Where was "over-collecting," and where was "under-collecting"? The authority to judge and operate was not in the hands of the common people; thus, the so-called fairness heavily depended on officials' discretionary power. When power is unchecked, fairness may not really be fairness at all. The "Qingmiao Law" of the Northern Song Dynasty was similarly problematic. Its initial intention sounded very noble: providing loans to farmers during times of hardship was a typical "consideration for the people." But in practice, local officials were afraid to lend money to truly poor and unable to repay—because if they couldn't recover the funds, they would be held responsible. But the task had to be completed, so what did they do? They forcibly lent money to wealthy households. You clearly are not short of money, yet you are forced to borrow—simply because you can repay, and the government wants that interest. Good governance was completely distorted in execution, ultimately becoming a systemic deprivation of specific groups. This is the tragic recurring theme in history: wrongdoers often operate under the banner of "serving the people." I am clearly taking your possessions, yet I can still maintain a good reputation; I am clearly plundering, yet it appears reasonable, legal, and even just.
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In Chinese history, once the imperial court decided to "play dirty," the common people actually had no leverage whatsoever. History has repeatedly proven that when the power to make, interpret, and enforce rules is concentrated in one hand, the rules themselves can turn into a scythe at any moment. Take the "Empty Seal Case" during the Hongwu period of the Ming Dynasty as an example. The so-called empty seal refers to local officials pre-stamping on blank documents. This was not an impulsive bad habit but a practice that had persisted for decades, dating back to the Yuan Dynasty. The reason is very practical: when reconciling accounts between local and central authorities, even slight discrepancies in data require back-and-forth modifications and re-stamping, which is time-consuming, labor-intensive, and incurs high administrative costs. As a result, blank stamping became an accepted and relied-upon "bad custom." But the problem is that this bad custom itself is a product of systemic design flaws. However, Zhu Yuanzhang did not admit that the system had issues. For him, the system was always correct; any problems could only be due to officials' misconduct, leading to harsh measures and mass executions. System flaws were transformed into personal sins, ultimately corrected with bloodshed.
Looking at the Qing Dynasty's "Tanting into Mu" policy, Emperor Yongzheng regarded it as virtuous governance, but did fairness truly materialize? Which land was rated as excellent, and which as poor? Where was "over-collecting," and where was "under-collecting"? The authority to judge and operate was not in the hands of the common people; thus, the so-called fairness heavily depended on officials' discretionary power. When power is unchecked, fairness may not really be fairness at all. The "Qingmiao Law" of the Northern Song Dynasty was similarly problematic. Its initial intention sounded very noble: providing loans to farmers during times of hardship was a typical "consideration for the people." But in practice, local officials were afraid to lend money to truly poor and unable to repay—because if they couldn't recover the funds, they would be held responsible. But the task had to be completed, so what did they do? They forcibly lent money to wealthy households. You clearly are not short of money, yet you are forced to borrow—simply because you can repay, and the government wants that interest. Good governance was completely distorted in execution, ultimately becoming a systemic deprivation of specific groups. This is the tragic recurring theme in history: wrongdoers often operate under the banner of "serving the people." I am clearly taking your possessions, yet I can still maintain a good reputation; I am clearly plundering, yet it appears reasonable, legal, and even just.