Criminal Incompetence #5
While civil war raged in the Ottoman Empire, with France, Germany, Britain, Russia, Persia, and others deploying armies to protect their spheres of influence, the Balkan front—known as the so-called Southern Front—was a cauldron of chaos that surpassed even the Ottoman heartland itself.
"Banzai!"
"Ura!"
"Banzai!"
"Ura!!"
The multinational, multiethnic, multiracial coalition bound under the banner of the Korean Army understood what the Koreans were aiming for—and they loved it.
The Korean military framework embodied overwhelming offensive spirit: reconnaissance from hot-air balloons, vanguard scout armored cars, mortars raining down where needed, and endless reinforcements pouring in. This was the relentless assault they'd all dreamed of.
'Just bulldoze 'em with the armored cars?'
'Go for it.'
'Snipe 'em at night?'
'Go for it.'
The Korean Army—whether facing Russians, Japanese, Indians, Sudanese, or anyone else—granted nearly every demand, every vision of what an army should be. Their infantry divisions were massive, but the support equipment was ridiculously abundant even by those standards. And now, with the coalition pooling resources, there were simply no enemies left in the Balkans at this point.
The terrain made victory points meaningless—that was the only issue!
Perhaps because of that, with Britain having secured the Southern Front and now focused elsewhere after halting Russia's expansionist thrusts, they hadn't sent any battleships here. The Korean Southern Garrison Force was left fending off these offensive zealots popping up from all directions, while pleas to advance into the Balkan interior fell on deaf ears.
What the hell's waiting for us in there anyway?
'Send us to Vienna.'
'No.'
'To Budapest then.'
'No.'
'Fine, at least Constantinople!'
'No... wait, actually yeah?'
With the German forces that the Southern Garrison had so warily watched now slamming their heads into the Korean Central Army Group's trenches and tasting bitter defeat, the somewhat disorganized mixed garrison finally had room to maneuver like a proper army group.
So why not?
"We're liberating Constantinople. For the sake of our brothers in the Turkish Socialist Republic that rose up in Adana."
It didn't matter when Turkey had become "our brother nation." What mattered was that the Supreme Leader had decided to liberate Turkey—and in doing so, split the straits in two, opening paths for Russia to thrust into the Mediterranean, the Atlantic, the Indian Ocean.
For the Supreme Leader, it was about making the whole world tremble at the Soviet threat. In his view—or rather, the General Secretary's—true decolonization required the existence of an anti-colonial, anti-imperialist Soviet Union. America? Those U.S. imperialist puppet parties—three of them wouldn't liberate a single colony. But with the Soviets around, even just America alone could spark decolonization.
'Come forth, Kim Soviet, and liberate this world.'
Claims that a gentle Korea could step in instead of a violent Soviet fell flat. The world couldn't be freed with gentle attitudes alone.
The Ottoman tax system was utter garbage. Let me say it again: the Ottoman tax system was utter garbage.
Starting with the laws themselves being rotten, it was a miracle the empire had survived this long. Without the pepper trade, it probably wouldn't have grown so vast.
Ottomans paid taxes to the center and the provinces; to religious authorities and secular powers; Muslims paid as Muslims, non-Muslims as non-Muslims. What could you even call it?
Korean soldiers, accustomed to the Korean Empire's advanced tax code, would faint in shock at the idea of taxing soldiers just for being soldiers.
Soldiers? Taxes?! On soldiers?!
Korea and the Ottomans shared some surprising similarities. The Ottomans had expanded by respecting local powers through decentralization and positioning themselves as protectors of Islamic civilization—like Rome or the Holy Roman Empire. Korea was roughly the same.
Taxes flowed basically into local autonomous districts, then to the center, which recirculated them back to military districts—a kind of loop. The key difference? Korea had unified its collection methods.
Korea didn't ask questions: it just took 30% flat. If you were earning money, that was it. No year-end adjustments. Just 30% gone.
Rich or poor, Party faithful or heretics, Korean or foreigner—if you made money in the Korean Empire, you paid that 30%.
Even assuming no poor in Korea, most incomes came through cooperatives anyway. The co-ops deducted upfront, so most members didn't even know how much they paid. They just figured "about 30%"—and that was reality.
This meant low administrative burden and minimal tax resistance. Instead of casting endless fishing lines, they cast a net—far more efficient.
Why 30%? It was the Maginot Line where people didn't complain much. Deeper still: to skim 30% from the rich and capable without resistance, even beggars had to proudly pay their 30% to the state.
While other nations chased the rich with clubs, Korea used those savings as commissions to incentivize private collection, fostering an atmosphere where not paying simply wasn't an option.
If even beggars pay 30%, what about you?
No double-dipping like wealth taxes, property taxes, inheritance taxes—yet you'd still refuse? Worse than a whore in tax evasion.
You didn't pay taxes, so someone died on-site today. Guess you die too.
The Korean wallet was transparent; hiding was nearly impossible. A fixed-salary official suddenly flush with cash? Dragged in with family. Stories don't match? Korea disowns him.
A cooperative head suspiciously rich? Dragged out with the board. Partners' tales differ? Korea never knew him.
Thus, Korea hired tons of public servants not to maximize collections, but to minimize psychological reasons for evasion—or desire for it.
Yes, Korea explained it constantly. Morning assemblies: "Our taxes built that bridge." "Our taxes made that reservoir."
And promised: more on kids' education; higher ed from 10% to 20%, 30%. No more ignoring elderly poverty. Tomorrow better than today, next day better than this.
Every government promises something. Nothing new. But the speaker, the weight behind it—that differed.
No "no budget now, maybe never" brush-offs. Even in wartime, Korea kept its word. War was the perfect excuse to renege, yet they didn't.
So people trusted Korea and paid up. Everyone needs something to believe in.
It was like a casino: if the boss acted like a mobster—keeping his word unless hell froze over, never showing weakness—people paid taxes emotionally, even knowing rationally little came back. Life was fun: laugh, spend, enjoy, go home, repeat. Why worry or save?
With national trust, citizens saved less, spent more. If government was Communist China or 21st-century Japan seizing 90% of wealth, impossible—people hoard, government starves at the capillaries.
Trust saves and dooms nations. The Ottomans had long lost it.
But that's why the Turkish Socialist Republic had to be different.
"We'll help build a Turkish nation-state, so release all the independence agitators you oppressed? Isn't that breaking the promise a bit?"
"Promises are made with actions, not words. How can we claim to be their nation if Turks persecuted other ethnicities themselves?"
The Armenian revolt had sparked mass persecution of not just Armenians, but others. Build the Turkish Socialist Republic on the same Ottoman scale? It'd still be half-dead.
People inside wouldn't change just because the state did. Ottoman and Turkish had to differ somehow.
"Focus on internal reforms over territory first. We'll help with land distribution, tax reform, suffrage principles. Only then will Turks rally to you."
"Me, who tore the Ottomans apart?"
"You didn't tear it. You opposed the war to the end, but they sided with Germany. This is what you salvaged."
Otherwise...
"Or do you want to see Turks fall to the same oppressed state they inflicted on Kurds?"
'That's not what I meant, I... I...'
Words stuck in his throat. Fear of being history's villain, preserved forever. He'd lived long, failed plenty. All that remained: honor, duty.
But this way of shouldering it? Where was his own honor? How would posterity point fingers?
Both futures terrified him: descendants oppressed, or himself vilified by them. How to face Allah?
Kim Ok-gyun just gazed softly at the man's frailty.
'He told me to turn this guy into a proper leader, the nation into a normal country... this'll be tough.'
But what could he do? The Supreme Leader wanted it this way.
Ok-gyun got the reason, more or less. The man probably saw his own reflection here.
"Your Excellency, I hear you're interested in Korea's development history."
"...Yes."
"Our Supreme Leader saw potential in you. That's why he sent me."
"?"
"Don't listen to losers' complaints. Why so down suddenly? Scared of history's judgment?"
The prime minister was speechless. This wasn't diplomatic speak.
But that's why he couldn't ignore it.
"Be dictatorial if needed. Autocratic too. If the world's rotten and unchanging, your nation stepping up might be right."
Kim Ok-gyun had once wondered why the young man—no, the youth he'd brought in—could be so brutally ruthless. Merciful one moment, vicious the next.
Now he knew: poor power control. Had to change things, but back then his base was weak, so against entrenched powers, the Supreme Leader had gone rough.
Sons made to slaughter fathers with their own blades, atone publicly before all—it was necessary to change.
Purging pro-Russia, pro-China, pro-Japan factions; kings, fathers, brothers, teachers, elders, women—seizing one-party dictatorship. Necessary.
Even betrayers and adulterers: calling in Japanese to butcher the queen mother, parading her corpse. Necessary.
But all that fueled gossip. "Necessary" was no excuse. Now everyone watched their mouths out of fear, but later?
Walking the king's path now wouldn't erase those bloody hegemony footprints.
Not secrets—just hushed. The Supreme Leader would face the tribunal someday.
Did he not know? Would he even care?
'Compared to this trembling fool before the great task, yeah, he's a different breed.'
The Excellency would kill a queen mother twice, thrice, without hesitation. Posterity's verdict? Their problem.
He'd extend a hand to the exploited, but tell losers: stand first, then whine.
'No clue. Where the hell does he see himself in this guy?'
To Ok-gyun, the man screamed "history's loser"—the very type the Supreme Leader mocked.