Joseon-Style Standing Army (4)

The day after I finalized my agreement with my father-in-law, I visited Choe Yun-deok, who served as Minister of War.

Because supplying makgeolli to the army was a national undertaking in the strictest sense, I had to obtain permission from the Minister of War, the equivalent of the modern Minister of National Defense, before beginning.

"My lord, I believe that although the state may be unable to pay wages to those serving military duty, it should at least supply them with ample liquor."

"You say we cannot pay them wages but should supply them with plenty of liquor? Well, would it not be more important to focus on feeding them until they are full?"

Feeding them well was, of course, very important.

In fact, after the Meiji Restoration, when the Japanese army implemented conscription, the most effective policy for maintaining soldiers’ morale was feeding them well.

When one looks at the records of military life in the Japanese army at that time, an institution that could be called the foremost example of every kind of brutal hazing, the remark soldiers exchanged most often was, ‘It’s nice to be able to eat one’s fill of rice now that I’m in the army.’

Judging from that, one could argue that in a premodern society, merely ensuring that people could eat their fill after joining the army was sufficient welfare.

However, that alone clearly had its limits.

Unless, of course, the people were generally starving and joining the army was the only way they could eat properly.

In any other circumstance, feeding soldiers until they were full would not raise their morale.

"Feeding them well is naturally something we must do. But people are not livestock; do you really think all their complaints about military life will disappear simply because we feed them well?"

"Military duty means going to a completely unfamiliar district for three years without seeing your family or friends and without receiving any wages. It is horrifying whenever I think about it."

"That is why we must provide them with plenty of makgeolli, at least, so they can ease the hardships and heartache they feel while serving military duty. Otherwise, how could they possibly endure it?"

Even up to World War II—or rather, for some time after it ended—the military still distributed alcohol.

Anyone who has experienced it knows that liquor is the best way to relieve the stress of soldiers confined to military life.

I, too, think it is absurd for the state to distribute alcohol to soldiers, but when I consider the problems that would arise if we did not distribute it...

I expect that supplying them with a moderate amount of liquor would be a reasonable solution.

“So you want to supply the soldiers with makgeolli, then—to ease even a little of the hardships endured by those serving military duty.”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I agree with your proposal as well. Since we cannot give them wages, I think it would be good to reduce the pressure they feel somehow by distributing a reasonable amount of liquor instead.”

Everyone encounters painful and difficult problems in life, but if they can gather with close friends—or at least with their coworkers—for a company dinner, eat meat, drink liquor, and even sing at the top of their lungs, the knot in their hearts loosens, and they experience the feeling that they can endure things after all.

Those conscripted into the army would likewise think that enduring difficult military life was something they had to do anyway, and if they drank a glass of liquor with the soldiers in their unit and cheered one another on, it would still help greatly in relieving their accumulated pressure.

"I understand that you want to supply the army with makgeolli. But what do you intend to do next?"

"I intend to have my father-in-law’s merchant guild supply the makgeolli to be used by the army."

Choe Yun-deok tilted his head after hearing my words.

The man who had proposed supplying makgeolli as a matter of policy was not suggesting that a supplier be selected through open bidding; he was recommending a company run by his own relatives.

It certainly did not look good.

Anyone looking at it would have taken me for a corrupt official hopeful trying to favor his father-in-law and make a nice, fat profit.

If someone pulled this sort of stunt in the twenty-first century, it would mean immediate dismissal—no, it would be a matter for which he could not possibly avoid a prison sentence.

So from the Minister of War’s perspective, he naturally could not help but suspect ‘corruption.’

“Are you saying that you want your father-in-law’s merchant guild to supply the makgeolli used by the army?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“I do not think you, Kim Eung-gyo, would make a proposal like this to satisfy your own selfish interests. However, I do not quite understand what led you to think of it. It seems to me that it would be more efficient either to produce the liquor consumed by the army within the barracks themselves, or to build large brewing workshops and run them as a state enterprise, just as the state operates ironworks, and procure it that way.”

Until the very beginning of the twenty-first century, textbooks always taught things in this manner.

Even if you bought the same head of napa cabbage, you had to pay 5,000 won for one at a large supermarket near your home, while you could buy one for 2,500 won if you bought it directly from the farmer who had grown it.

The reason cabbage bought from a farmer was half the price was that it did not pass through any middlemen in distribution.

That was what we were taught...

In modern society, this principle often fails to hold, but in Joseon, the fewer intermediary merchants a product passed through, the lower its price was bound to be.

That was because the costs incurred while passing through multiple middlemen were so high.

I doubt Choe Yun-deok was suggesting direct production because he fully understood such commercial principles, but regardless, if direct production were managed properly, it was true that it would require minimal expenditure.

“Certainly, if the state built and operated a large workshop to brew makgeolli for the soldiers, we could supply it without passing through merchants and thus without paying much in fees.”

Transportation could be entrusted to the navy, while the costs incurred in production would be limited to the initial expense of building the factory, labor costs, and the price of grain as the raw material.

Moreover, if the state operated the makgeolli workshop, we would not even need to make a particular profit...

In theory, at least, we could produce makgeolli of decent quality at the lowest possible cost.

But there was one problem: this was all only theoretical.

"However, can you be certain that the merchants supplying the grain and the clerks and scribes handling the brewery’s accounting and operations will not engage in foul play along the way?"

Choe Yun-deok shook his head.

"Even among officials who have mastered the Four Books and Three Classics, corrupt individuals occasionally emerge and squeeze the people dry... How can we trust the clerks and scribes managing the brewery, and how can we place complete faith in the merchants supplying the grain?"

"If they set their minds to it, they are capable of completely blinding even His Majesty and me, just as the monks once did when they took over the people’s tribute obligations before Bangwonbeop was implemented."

Ever since I personally demonstrated the importance of commerce, the court had begun to take an interest in it.

Therefore, it was true that the officials’ understanding of commerce was much deeper than before, but...

To put it coldly, even if I generously gave them the benefit of the doubt, their understanding of commerce had merely risen from the level of a first-grade elementary school student to that of a first-grade middle school student.

By contrast, the merchants our court officials had to deal with were a group of seasoned professionals who had spent their entire lives in business.

If an expert and a middle-school student competed using specialized knowledge, who do you think would win?

The expert. One hundred percent.

Likewise, if the merchants deliberately set out to commit fraud, we officials would have no choice but to be cheated right before our eyes.

‘There is no company easier to embezzle from than a public enterprise that does not pursue profit. That is an undeniable fact.’

“If the clerks and merchants colluded and began lining their pockets, it would ultimately cost far more money than purchasing makgeolli produced at a merchant’s brewery.”

Although both Choe Yun-deok and I had mentioned only clerks and scribes as examples of officials...

In reality, if the court established something like a fifth-rank government bureau to produce makgeolli for the soldiers and operated it as a state-owned brewery...

I knew very well that the merchants, clerks, and even poorly paid officials would join forces and turn it into a serious breeding ground for corruption.

“We would end up wasting far more money while trying to save a little. Yes, I think you are right.”

“Thank you for understanding, my lord.”

“Since your merchant guild would be taking on a government project, should we not have government officials at least oversee inspections, even if they do not manage it directly?”

That was only natural.

They would be taking over an entire government project; what if the state did not conduct inspections as well?

I did not regard the court’s budget as money free for the taking. I considered it all to be the people’s hard-earned tax money, so I intended to seek only a reasonable level of profit.

A merchant concerned only with profit, however, would spend every waking hour plotting how to embezzle money by taking advantage of a lack of oversight.

“Have officials from the Ministry of Taxation, the Ministry of War, and the Office of the Inspector-General oversee it. And there is one more thing I would like to suggest. Since we will have to manufacture large quantities of weapons and uniforms, what do you think of entrusting the manufacture of all weapons other than gunpowder weapons—including matchlocks—to private workshops?”

“We could set the price based on the cost of manufacturing weapons at the Military Arms Office and have outside workshops produce them. And since they are weapons used by the state, they would also have to meet the appropriate standards.”

“It would be good to have them make the weapons and uniforms according to fixed specifications. Then, if part of a weapon were damaged later, it would be easy to repair, and it would also be easy to make a new one.”

Once standardization was introduced, replacing parts would become easy.

Moreover, it would make mass production through division of labor more convenient.

“That does sound good. But there is one thing I am worried about.”

“What is it?”

Choe Yun-deok looked at me and asked with a grave expression,

“If we tell the yangban to pay taxes instead of serving military duty, do you really think there will be no one who opposes it?”

“Surely no one would oppose it, would they?”

If opposing it would get their heads smashed in, who would dare object...

No. There were plenty of idiots in this world beyond anything I could imagine, so perhaps there would be opponents after all.

And Choe Yun-deok’s concern became reality.