the more a reformer wields the blade of efficiency, the more they uncover deeper structural ailments embedded in the roots of power. Just as Hai Rui attempted to cut through the bureaucratic decay of the Jiajing era with moral absolutism, Musk, under the banner of "streamlining
government," slashed bloated institutions—only to find himself entangled in Washington’s dense jungle of interests. Agency closures triggered waves of legal battles, mass layoffs led to betrayals by political allies, and even internal tech teams protested against his "idealistic
tyranny" by resigning.
This predicament fundamentally stems from the ecological laws of the power arena. In the Ming Dynasty, the "switching from rice to mulberry" policy ultimately became a mere fig leaf for land annexation—just as modern calls for government downsizing often
morph into tools for interest realignment. When Musk vowed to cut away the "dead wood" of bureaucracy, he failed to realize that these roots were already intertwined with the system’s entire nutrient supply network. What was being eliminated was not just redundant positions but
also the invisible contracts that sustained the system’s operation; what was being terminated was not just inefficient projects but also the delicate balance of power among competing interest groups.
History repeatedly proves that pure technocratic reform is inevitably swallowed
by the swamp of power struggles. From Zhang Juzheng’s Kaocheng Law to Musk’s fiscal austerity, reformers often mistake institutions for mechanical devices, failing to recognize that human nature is the true operating system. As Tesla’s market value evaporates in political turmoil
, perhaps the Silicon Valley maverick should revisit Hu Zongxian’s lament: "While silt certainly clogs the river, draining it entirely may also cause the embankments to collapse."