A Culture of Honor Among Ming Officials
In the intricate political theater of Ming Dynasty China (1368-1644), resignation became an unexpected weapon in bureaucratic warfare. A peculiar custom emerged where high-ranking ministers, upon facing impeachment accusations, would immediately submit resignation letters—not necessarily because they admitted guilt, but to demonstrate their commitment to personal integrity over political power. This performative act carried high stakes: if the emperor accepted the resignation, the official’s career would end abruptly.
The practice reflected Confucian ideals that prized moral character above worldly success. However, as the case of Grand Secretary Zhang Juzheng (1525-1582) reveals, this ritual often concealed deeper power struggles. When Zhang’s protégé Liu Tai publicly accused him of corruption and abuse of power, the veteran statesman initially followed convention by drafting his resignation—only to be stopped by colleagues who recognized the dangerous game at play.
Zhang Juzheng’s Crisis: When Loyalty Meets Ambition
The 1575 confrontation between Zhang and Liu laid bare the tensions beneath Ming bureaucratic decorum. As the architect of the Wanli Restoration’s reforms—including the controversial “Kao Cheng” performance evaluation system—Zhang had accumulated enemies. His student Liu Tai’s explosive memorial accused him of:
– Building family wealth through corrupt land acquisitions
– Creating a climate of fear through harsh administrative policies
– Surrounding himself with loyalists to consolidate power
When Zhang moved to resign, his allies intervened dramatically. Grand Secretary Lü Tiaoyang appealed to Zhang’s sense of duty: “If you leave now, the state you’ve rebuilt will crumble.” Another minister, Zhang Siwei, dismissed Liu as “a minor censor unworthy of your attention.” Their arguments exposed the resignation ritual’s true function—not as surrender, but as a test of imperial confidence.
The Theater of Power: Resignation as Political Gambit
Zhang’s subsequent actions reveal the calculated nature of Ming resignation politics:
1. First Resignation Attempt (1575): An emotional appeal highlighting his “failed stewardship,” designed to provoke reassurance
2. Imperial Response: The young Wanli Emperor and Empress Dowager Li dispatched eunuchs to Zhang’s home with handwritten pleas to stay
3. Strategic Withdrawal: Zhang remained absent from court for days, allowing tension to build
4. Final Resolution: The throne ordered Liu Tai’s punishment (100 lashes and exile), demonstrating unequivocal support for Zhang
This choreography followed Ming political scripts where:
– Resignation tested the ruler’s trust
– Imperial rejection of resignation reaffirmed the official’s mandate
– Punishment of accusers reinforced hierarchical bonds
The Aftermath: When Revenge Wears a Mask of Mercy
Zhang’s handling of Liu Tai became a masterclass in political theater. Rather than demanding harsh punishment, he petitioned for leniency—having Liu merely stripped of rank rather than executed. This apparent magnanimity served multiple purposes:
1. Demonstrated Confidence: By sparing his attacker, Zhang showed supreme assurance in his position
2. Controlled the Narrative: Avoided creating a martyr while still neutralizing a threat
3. Delayed Retribution: Four years later, new corruption charges emerged against Liu, leading to his eventual exile—a reminder that Ming politics often settled scores through patience rather than immediacy
Legacy of the Resignation Ritual
The Zhang-Liu confrontation illuminates enduring dynamics in Chinese political culture:
– Performance Over Substance: The elaborate resignation dance prioritized demonstrating correct form over transparent governance
– Power Through Vulnerability: Officials like Zhang strengthened their position by appearing ready to relinquish it
– Imperial-Commissioner Tension: Even powerful ministers ultimately depended on the throne’s favor
Modern parallels abound, from corporate executives offering resignations during scandals to politicians testing support through symbolic withdrawals. The Ming practice reminds us that in hierarchical systems, the appearance of selflessness often becomes the ultimate power play.
As Zhang himself noted in private correspondence after the crisis: “I care only for the state’s affairs, not personal safety.” This statement—like the resignation ritual itself—contained layers of meaning, serving both as noble ideal and calculated positioning in the unending Ming political game.
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