As China’s fiscal conditions worsen, a scandal at the Shaolin Temple has ignited a debate over who owns the monastic institution’s cultural heritage and how to commercialize the world-famous brand.
Authorities are investigating Shi Yongxin (釋永信), the long-time abbot of the monastery at the foot of a mountain peak in central China’s Henan Province, on suspicions of embezzlement, maintaining “improper relations” with women, and fathering at least one child. Companies linked to Shi, nicknamed the “CEO monk,” were deregistered and his Buddhist credentials revoked by the Buddhist Association of China, the national governing body for Buddhist affairs.
Bloomberg News was unable to reach Shi. In a statement on Sunday, the temple confirmed that Shi was under investigation and said “relevant information will be disclosed to the public promptly.” Authorities have not concluded whether any inappropriate activity has taken place.
This is not the first time Shi’s conduct has been questioned. In 2015, a whistle-blower accused Shi of similar misconduct, including maintaining mistresses and owning luxury cars. All charges were dropped in 2017. It is interesting that similar allegations are resurfacing.
Shi is credited for turning around Shaolin financially. When he joined in 1981 as a 16-year-old, the monastery was in a dilapidated state, having just survived the Cultural Revolution. Now, Shaolin monks are far from impoverished. The temple has been transformed into a money-making machine, producing films, selling medicines and opening martial arts schools overseas.
Over the years, the abbot had plenty of run-ins with local authorities over what he saw belonged to the monks. In 2009, he objected to a plan to list on the stock exchange assets in Songshan, the mountain range where the temple is located, because he did not want Shaolin to be bundled with other scenic spots. In 2014, the monastery sued the provincial government of Henan for breaching a revenue-sharing agreement over entrance ticket sales.
“How much money can monks spend?” an official fumed.
At the heart of the clashes is who gets to manage — and benefit — from the Shaolin brand, simultaneously spiritual and cool with the dual practices of Zen Buddhism and kung fu. In the early 1980s, Beijing allowed religious groups to self-fund through whatever means to upkeep their establishments and returned religious properties seized over previous decades.
Religion, it turns out, is big business, and many want to share that uncommon prosperity.
To some extent, Shi is a victim of his own success. He is a social media influencer. He is not shy about starting lawsuits. He has set up a labyrinth of corporate entities to monetize the Shaolin brand. He even dabbled in real estate development, spending US$71 million at a land auction in 2022. That prompted some netizens and newspaper editorials to argue that monks should not be so engaged with worldly affairs. Shi had argued for engagement in the secular world to preserve and spread Shaolin culture.
What is wrong with having an earthly abbot? In modern corporate finance terms, Shi is a management monk, who takes the issue of money off the table so his colleagues could focus on more ethereal things, such as meditation and kung fu practice, which require focus and concentration. As to whether he ignored the celibacy required by Buddhism, public opinion could be forgiving. Traditional Chinese literature has plenty of well-liked monk characters who eat meat, drink wine and have sex.
Ownership is becoming a hot topic in China. Two high-profile cases, the inheritance dispute at Hangzhou Wahaha Group, one of China’s largest beverage empires, and the Shaolin scandal, center around who should have control and say over billion-dollar brands.
In the early 1980s, intent on opening up and reforming the economy, Beijing hurriedly passed regulations that gave private citizens and non-profit entities room to experiment and explore capitalism. Decades later, loopholes are starting to bubble up. Controversies around the world-famous Shaolin Temple would not end with the removal of its outspoken abbot.
Shuli Ren is a Bloomberg Opinion columnist covering Asian markets. A former investment banker, she was a markets reporter for Barron’s. She is a CFA charterholder. This column reflects the personal views of the author and does not necessarily reflect the opinion of the editorial board or Bloomberg LP and its owners.
China has not been a top-tier issue for much of the second Trump administration. Instead, Trump has focused considerable energy on Ukraine, Israel, Iran, and defending America’s borders. At home, Trump has been busy passing an overhaul to America’s tax system, deporting unlawful immigrants, and targeting his political enemies. More recently, he has been consumed by the fallout of a political scandal involving his past relationship with a disgraced sex offender. When the administration has focused on China, there has not been a consistent throughline in its approach or its public statements. This lack of overarching narrative likely reflects a combination
Father’s Day, as celebrated around the world, has its roots in the early 20th century US. In 1910, the state of Washington marked the world’s first official Father’s Day. Later, in 1972, then-US president Richard Nixon signed a proclamation establishing the third Sunday of June as a national holiday honoring fathers. Many countries have since followed suit, adopting the same date. In Taiwan, the celebration takes a different form — both in timing and meaning. Taiwan’s Father’s Day falls on Aug. 8, a date chosen not for historical events, but for the beauty of language. In Mandarin, “eight eight” is pronounced
US President Donald Trump’s alleged request that Taiwanese President William Lai (賴清德) not stop in New York while traveling to three of Taiwan’s diplomatic allies, after his administration also rescheduled a visit to Washington by the minister of national defense, sets an unwise precedent and risks locking the US into a trajectory of either direct conflict with the People’s Republic of China (PRC) or capitulation to it over Taiwan. Taiwanese authorities have said that no plans to request a stopover in the US had been submitted to Washington, but Trump shared a direct call with Chinese President Xi Jinping (習近平)
It is difficult to think of an issue that has monopolized political commentary as intensely as the recall movement and the autopsy of the July 26 failures. These commentaries have come from diverse sources within Taiwan and abroad, from local Taiwanese members of the public and academics, foreign academics resident in Taiwan, and overseas Taiwanese working in US universities. There is a lack of consensus that Taiwan’s democracy is either dying in ashes or has become a phoenix rising from the ashes, nurtured into existence by civic groups and rational voters. There are narratives of extreme polarization and an alarming
RSS