Shaolin Temple should take a vow of chastity, not poverty

Shuli Ren, Bloomberg

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, the longtime 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 July 27, 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’s 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 didn’t want Shaolin to be bundled with other scenic spots.

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.

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 $71 million at a land auction in 2022. That prompted some netizens and newspaper editorials to argue that monks shouldn’t be so engaged with worldly affairs. Shi had argued for engagement in the secular world to preserve and spread Shaolin culture.

But what’s 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 can 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 won’t end with the removal of its outspoken abbot.

Courtesy Bloomberg/Shuli Ren