The Collapse of the First Zhili-Fengtian War and the Rise of the Zhili Clique

The aftermath of the First Zhili-Fengtian War in 1922 marked a pivotal moment in China’s warlord era. When the Fengtian forces retreated beyond Shanhaiguan, the Zhili warlords Cao Kun and Wu Peifu emerged as the new power brokers in Beijing. This military victory created what contemporaries called the “Zhili-as-Central-Government” political configuration, where the Zhili faction effectively controlled the national administration while maintaining a thin veneer of republican legitimacy.

Cao and Wu, however, were not content with merely wielding de facto power behind the scenes. They aspired to formalize their control by removing President Xu Shichang—who had shown pro-Anhui and pro-Fengtian leanings—and dismantling the southern constitutional protection movement led by Sun Yat-sen. Their ambition was nothing less than the complete unification of China under their military rule. As Cao Kun reportedly declared: “I resent Xu Shichang for excluding me and fear his connections with Fengtian as future threats, thus I’m determined to expel him.”

Wu Jinglian’s Constitutional Restoration Scheme

The mastermind behind the political strategy to legitimize Zhili dominance was Wu Jinglian (1873-1944), a seasoned politician with extensive parliamentary experience. As the former Speaker of the House of Representatives, Wu proposed the ingenious “Restoration of Constitutional Continuity” (法统重光) plan to Wu Peifu through his protege Wang Chengbin.

Wu’s proposal called for reviving the old parliament dissolved in 1917 and reinstating former president Li Yuanhong as an interim leader. This would achieve three objectives simultaneously: remove the disliked Xu Shichang, undermine Sun Yat-sen’s constitutional protection movement by making its legal basis redundant, and create a transitional government that could eventually elect Cao Kun as president through parliamentary procedures.

The brilliance of this scheme lay in its apparent legality. By reactivating the 1917 parliament and having it formally elect Cao Kun, the Zhili clique could claim legitimate constitutional succession rather than naked military usurpation. As Wu Peifu recognized, this approach would “kill two birds with one stone”—providing legal cover for their power grab while neutralizing southern opposition.

The Forced Resignation of Xu Shichang

The campaign to oust Xu Shichang unfolded with military precision. On May 14, 1922, Wu Peifu began circulating a secret telegram among northern warlords advocating Li Yuanhong’s restoration. Zhili-aligned commanders like Sun Chuanfang quickly voiced support, while old parliamentarians under Wu Jinglian’s leadership established preparatory offices in Tianjin.

Xu Shichang, recognizing the threat to his position, attempted to block the parliament’s revival. He ordered the Tianjin police to suppress parliamentary activities, only to receive the humiliating reply that local authorities took orders from Zhili commanders, not the nominal president. Xu’s subsequent attempts to bribe southern legislators into boycotting the parliament similarly failed when his intermediaries publicly denounced the scheme.

By late May, the pressure became unbearable. Wu Peifu sent Xu a blunt memorandum outlining two paths: restoration of the 1917 parliament (the “regular method”) or a national convention (the “extraordinary method”). The message was clear—Xu’s resignation was inevitable. On June 2, after Zhili representatives physically entered the presidential palace demanding he vacate the premises, the isolated Xu finally resigned and departed Beijing under military escort.

Li Yuanhong’s Conditional Return

Li Yuanhong, living in quiet retirement since his 1917 ouster, initially hesitated when approached to resume the presidency. The warlords’ sudden enthusiasm for constitutional restoration aroused his suspicions. Through his secretary Rao Hanxiang, Li issued his famous June 6 “Fish Telegram” (鱼电), making his acceptance conditional on nationwide “abolition of military governors and troop reductions” (废督裁兵).

This bold demand struck a chord with war-weary citizens but posed a direct challenge to warlord interests. While provincial militarists offered perfunctory endorsements, none actually disarmed. Wu Peifu privately fumed at Li’s audacity, while Cao Kun’s faction briefly considered bypassing Li entirely to install Cao directly.

Faced with Zhili ultimatums—including the dramatic scene where Cao and Wu’s representatives knelt before him—Li ultimately capitulated. On June 11, 1922, he returned to Beijing under Zhili escort, becoming the first Chinese president to be reinstated after leaving office.

The Hollow Victory of Constitutional Restoration

Li’s restoration quickly revealed itself as constitutional theater. The revived 1917 parliament (dubbed the “Year Six Congress”) immediately clashed with Sun Yat-sen’s rival “Year Eight Congress” in Guangzhou over legitimacy. Attempts to incorporate southern leaders into Li’s cabinet failed spectacularly when appointees like Tan Yankai and Huang Yanpei refused to serve.

Most crucially, the “abolition of military governors” proved utterly stillborn. While Zhejiang’s Lu Yongxiang ceremonially renamed himself “Military Affairs Commissioner,” other warlords openly mocked the initiative. Wu Peifu continued expanding his forces, recruiting 10,000 new troops in Shandong alone during the supposed demobilization period.

The cabinet became another battleground. Wu Peifu sabotaged Li’s preferred nominee Tang Shaoyi through blistering telegrams, while key ministries fell under direct Zhili control. When Finance Minister Dong Kang attempted fiscal reforms, warlord revenue seizures rendered them meaningless. By August, the government couldn’t even pay Beijing’s teachers and officials, leading to violent protests.

The Gathering Storm

By autumn 1922, the contradictions of the Zhili-dominated restoration were becoming unsustainable. Li Yuanhong, though more assertive than during his first presidency, remained trapped between public expectations and warlord realities. His attempts to assert civilian authority—such as provincial appointments—were routinely blocked by military commanders.

Meanwhile, Wu Peifu’s interference grew increasingly brazen. His protégé Sun Danlin essentially ran the Interior Ministry while spying on the president, creating what one observer called “a government within the government.” The final humiliation came when Wu vetoed Li’s cabinet choices through public telegrams, reducing the presidency to a figurehead role.

In the south, Sun Yat-sen dismissed the Beijing government as an illegal Zhili puppet. His alternative vision—a workers’ militia system limiting China to 300,000 troops—gained traction among reformers disillusioned with Li’s powerless restoration. Meanwhile, Zhang Zuolin’s Fengtian clique regrouped in Manchuria, preparing for the next round of warlord conflict.

Conclusion: The Broken Promise of 1922

The 1922 constitutional restoration experiment represented both the peak of Wu Peifu’s political ingenuity and the bankruptcy of warlord constitutionalism. While brilliantly executed as a short-term power play, it failed to address China’s fundamental crisis: the military’s domination of politics. The revived parliament became a tool for Cao Kun’s eventual presidency rather than a genuine representative body, while Li Yuanhong’s well-intentioned reforms collapsed against the reality of armed regionalism.

This episode demonstrated how easily republican institutions could be manipulated by strongmen while simultaneously revealing their enduring symbolic power—even warlords felt compelled to cloak their ambitions in constitutional rhetoric. The failure to implement “abolition of military governors” would haunt China for decades, as the revolution’s unfulfilled promise of civilian government gave way to full-blown militarism in the Nanjing Decade and beyond.

In the end, the 1922 restoration wasn’t about law or democracy, but about providing the Zhili clique temporary cover until they could arrange Cao Kun’s permanent presidency. When that moment came in 1923 with history’s most infamous bribery scandal—the 5,000 silver dollars per vote election—the fragile facade of constitutional government collapsed completely, leaving China’s republican experiment in tatters.