To the World, Part 4

Reconquista is a Spanish word meaning "reconquest." Originally, it referred to the centuries-long warfare to drive the Muslims out of the Iberian Peninsula. Over time, of course, its meaning morphed into a general term for any crusade aimed at beating down heretics. While the First through Third Crusades at least maintained the goal of reclaiming the Holy Land, the Fourth Crusade devolved into a mere plundering horde that sacked Constantinople. Following the crusaders' example, the Spanish Reconquista in the Americas also faithfully replicated the precedent of the Fourth Crusade.

Even so, the Austro-Hungarian Empire was quite accustomed to playing the roles of crusaders and conquistadors. After all, their very own Revolutionary Guard was essentially a holy order of templars established to crush the heretics of Stahlism. Influenced by the Revolutionary Guard, the Austrian Navy and Marines were equally zealous in their missionary work for Stahlism. Of course, one could not simply spread Stahlism to a land devoid of democracy. It was much like how Matteo Ricci and Adam Schall had first introduced astronomical calendars to pave the way for Christianity. Thus, with burning passion, they began to propagate democracy—much like a time-traveler introducing soap to the ancient world.

"Most of the citizens of Dakar are illiterate," Joseph Goebbels reported. "Holding a general election under these circumstances will not be easy."

"Then have them bring drawings that represent each candidate," I replied. "We can have them cast their votes by stamping their fingerprints on those drawings."

"But... how do we establish the voter registry?"

"I hear the French conducted a thorough census of the Dakar population solely for the purpose of exploitation."

"And how do we verify the identity of the voters at the polls?"

"...There is no perfect way. I suppose we must resort to punishing double-voters after the fact. Have them record their names and fingerprints before they cast their ballots, and then we can cross-reference those with the French administrative documents later."

As is the case in any nation, the army was generally filled with uneducated grunts, whereas the navy boasted a higher concentration of educated men. Since the navy operated cutting-edge equipment, a basic level of education was mandatory. Furthermore, while the Austrian Revolutionary Guard was a force dedicated purely to combat, the Imperial Army had transformed into a massive bureaucratic apparatus following the purge of Hötzendorf. With a thousand bureaucrats suddenly deployed, the administrative gears began to turn smoothly, language barriers notwithstanding.

The real problem lay elsewhere. If explaining the necessity of soap to medieval peasants required monumental effort, how much more difficult would it be to make colonized subjects comprehend the necessity of democracy?

"Vote for our Ibrahim! Do so, and we will give you this palm oil for free!"

"What? We—we will give you palm oil and date palm wine!"

"To hell with that! Ibrahim and Joseph are just making things complicated for you, citizens! We will give you cold, hard cash!"

Makgeolli elections—the practice of buying votes with alcohol and gifts—were a common rite of passage for any country where democracy was just taking root. It was no different in Britain or the United States in their early days. In fact, this was relatively tame.

"We cannot match Joseph's financial power," one of N'Diaye's men muttered.

"But didn't many of our people serve as administrative clerks under the French administration? Let us manipulate the voter registry."

"A brilliant idea."

They began by forging the voter registries to assign ballots to non-existent people, then hired random vagrants to cast those votes...

"N'Diaye's faction made the first move?" Ibrahim growled. "We must act quickly!"

"But... Lord Ibrahim, we do not have people inside the governor-general's office like N'Diaye, nor do we have money like Joseph."

"But we have people, do we not? Just ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠tell them to go back and vote twice!"

"B-but... the Austrians..."

"Once we seize power, we can cover everything up. We will deal with the consequences after the fact."

Every imaginable method of election fraud began to surface. Behold—this was the true face of civilization. These were citizens encountering democracy for the very first time in the early 1900s, yet they were already emulating the political prowess of twenty-first-century Russia, where voter turnouts of 146% transcended the laws of physics to encourage civic participation.

Amateurish tricks, such as swapping ballot boxes or employing thugs to shut down unfavorable polling stations, were difficult to pull off under the sharp, watchful eyes of the Austrian military. Instead, they resorted to more sophisticated methods: having a single citizen vote multiple times, creating ghost voters out of thin air, and bribing election officials to hand out ballots that had already been stamped for their preferred candidate. The African people, whom the French had so readily dismissed as uncivilized, possessed intellectual capabilities that were by no means inferior to those of Europeans. They were executing these complex administrative maneuvers with absolute perfection.

"Look here, do you see this cross? This is the symbol of our candidate, Ibrahim! Just press your thumbprint right next to this cross!"

"You son of a bitch, who do you think you're lying to?!"

"If you vote for Ibrahim, the Muslims will slaughter every single one of us Christians!"

"Waaaaah!"

From deceptive symbols to dirty smear campaigns, they had already caught up to their former colonizer, France. They were perfectly executing not just complex administration, but the dirty game of politics as well.

While I was willing to turn a blind eye to vote-buying, I was utterly dumbfounded by the sheer variety of fraudulent voting techniques that cropped up—methods I had never even conceived of. I decided to draw upon the advanced administrative techniques of Joseon, which none of their contemporaries could ever hope to match. To properly enforce administration, the mobilization of physical force is an absolute necessity. In Joseon, the military had been transformed from a parasitic group of tax-consumers into a massive tax-collecting agency akin to a national tax service. Without bayonets and rifles, laws and procedures can never be truly enforced.

Ultimately, I deployed the idle sailors and marines to supervise the election. They began to act precisely like the conquistadors of the Reconquista, who would have slaughtered anyone refusing baptism.

"Aigoo, Austrian officer! That is not what happened...!"

"Stealing blank ballots and stamping them in advance?! Let's start with ten lashes of the cane."

"Aaargh...!"

"Hey! You took palm oil from Ibrahim too, didn't you? We'll let you off with just one lash."

Of course, we could not openly arrest and beat the candidates themselves. Therefore, the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠marines focused on thoroughly disciplining their subordinates with a relentless barrage of wooden clubs. If they wanted to rig the election, they would have to pay for it in physical pain. Even so, it would have been stranger if a two-week election didn't turn into a complete circus. My only goal was to firmly engrave a simple equation into their minds: Election Fraud = A Beating.

The chaotic, slipshod election campaign finally came to an end after two weeks. Joseph Goebbels presented the election results to me with an incredibly awkward expression.

"Vice Chairman! The election results are in," Goebbels said. "N'Diaye received 43%, Joseph received 39%, Ibrahim received 33%, and there were 31% invalid votes."

"That adds up to well over a hundred percent."

"...Indeed it does, sir."

I opened my mouth to object, but then decided to keep quiet. Let's just assume the French had botched their administration so badly that they couldn't even conduct a proper census of Dakar's population. Yes, let's go with that.

"But why are there so many invalid votes? Did our men discard every single ballot suspected of fraud?"

It was strange. That shouldn't have been possible. Compared to other nations' militaries, our soldiers were exceptionally sharp. Our Imperial Army had already handed over the vast majority of its combat duties to the Revolutionary Guard, and we had even outsourced some military operations to Germany. Although the Navy was still a proper military force, the armed forces as a whole had essentially transformed into a state-run German language school and a civil service academy. Still, a military is a military. There was no way a mere thousand men could have caught every single instance of election fraud in such a short timeframe.

"It is not quite that, sir..." Goebbels explained. "Some voters drew pictures of goats on their ballots, while others wrote down unrecognizable names like 'The King of Jolof,' so those had to be excluded. Furthermore, we discarded any ballots that had signatures instead of thumbprints."

"...I see."

At any rate, the voting was complete. Our plan was to transplant a parliamentary cabinet system, much like the one we had in Austria, here in Dakar. You might wonder why we held a presidential-style vote instead. In a mere two weeks, it was impossible to properly divide the territory into electoral districts, let alone vet proper parliamentary candidates. Thus, we decided to operate under a proportional representation system, similar to modern Germany. There wasn't even enough time to form proper political parties and register their names, so we simply named the parties after their respective leaders.

"Now that the election is over, we have one more issue," Goebbels added.

"What is it?"

"With this distribution, out of the seventy-five seats in the legislature, N'Diaye's faction will take twenty-eight, Joseph's will take twenty-five, and Ibrahim's will take twenty-one."

"Ah. No ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠single party has secured a majority."

Now came the true beauty of a parliamentary system: the process of forming a cabinet through coalition-building and debate. A long, tedious negotiation lay ahead—one that would likely drag on far longer than the election itself.

"Summon the leaders of each party," I ordered.

I gathered the three power brokers of Dakar. There was no time to waste.

"I will give you exactly one day," I told them. "Form a coalition by whatever means necessary and distribute the cabinet portfolios among yourselves."

"O-one day?" N'Diaye, who had secured the most votes, asked in sheer bewilderment.

"Yes. I will now list the ministries that must be established ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in the new cabinet: Prime Minister, Minister of Internal Affairs, Minister of Military Affairs, Minister of Finance, Minister of Industry..."

"Excuse me, but could you explain the specific authorities granted to each minister?"

"I will leave you with copies of our Empire's constitution and government organization laws. Read them and use them as a reference. Regardless of how you do it, form a coalition that commands a majority."

Once a legal and legitimate government was established, all that remained was to negotiate their entry into the Treaty Organization. The bureaucrats and engineers dispatched by the Treaty Organization would handle the rest anyway. In our current state, where we suffered from chronic domestic shortages, the only things we could readily export were bureaucrats and engineers. After all, our military academies spent far more time teaching accounting and engineering than actual combat tactics.

And exactly twenty-four hours later, they presented their proposal for a coalition government.

"All three of you—or rather, all three of your parties—have decided to form a grand coalition together?" I asked, raising an eyebrow.

A parliament without an opposition party. Even dictators like Chun Doo-hwan, or even Kim Il-sung, maintained token opposition parties just to keep up the facade of "democracy." Yet, these men had simply carved up the cabinet portfolios proportionally based on their vote shares. Well, I suppose it couldn't be helped. Even during the era of George Washington, who won one hundred percent of the electoral votes, there was no formal opposition party. In truth, this election was never about establishing democratic representation. It was merely a test of who could rig an election most effectively, serving as a practical exam to measure their administrative capabilities. It was essentially the equivalent of a Chunin Exam.

"Our Dakar is a newly independent city-state," N'Diaye replied smoothly. "At a time like this, shouldn't the entire nation unite as one?"

"Yes... well, let us try to do it... properly during the next election. Most of you studied in France, did you not? You can just do as they do. Ah, wait! Actually, do not do exactly what they do... but, well, you get the idea."

Since the majority of these leaders had built their influence by collaborating with the French, I had almost told them to emulate France—the very symbol of a democratic republic. But remembering the current disastrous state of France, I had quickly corrected myself. At any rate, as soon as the Prime Minister was selected, we quickly took commemorative photos and signed the treaty to join the Treaty Organization. For the time being, they would be able to get by on the raw materials flowing from the plantations and mines of West Africa. Leaving a portion of the marines behind to maintain order, I set sail once more to round the Cape of Good Hope.

The chaotic, farcical election had finally come to an end.

"Is it over...?"

"New invaders have entered our city, yet the atmosphere feels like a festival."

Upon hearing the news of a new empire's arrival, the citizens of Dakar had harbored a mixture of hope that the chaos of West Africa would finally end, alongside a deep-seated anxiety toward yet another foreign conqueror. However, aside from a few citizens getting beaten with clubs by Austrian marines for attempting election fraud, it did not feel like a hostile invasion at all. As they watched the departing fleet sail away, the citizens felt a strange sense of lingering regret. It was a stark contrast to the way they used to spit and throw salt whenever a French fleet departed.

"Democracy..."

"It seems the white people hold a grand festival called an election once every few years."

"This is the first time white people have left after teaching us nothing but how to throw a festival."

Though it was an election that hardly deserved the name, it had somehow transformed the solemn concept of voting into something lively and enjoyable. Like ancient humans captivated by a time-traveler's soap, the citizens of Dakar began to develop a genuine, burning interest in the concept of elections.