🔗 Share this article

For a religious figure, the claims were disturbing. Lovers, illegitimate children, misuse of funds. But in 2015, the chief monk of Shaolin monastery, the birthplace of Zen Buddhism and kung-fu in the country, was untouchable. Shi Yongxin, labeled the “CEO monk” who transformed the 1,500-year-old temple into a commercial empire valued at millions of Chinese currency, remained in power. Shortly after, he was cleared of all charges.

A Decade Later

However a decade after, the 60-year-old monk was not so lucky. In the month of July, not long after Shi came back from a visit to the Vatican to see the deceased Pope Francis, the monastery released a announcement saying that he was being investigated for allegedly diverting money and for siring children out of wedlock with several partners. Less than a fortnight after, he was dismissed and lost his religious status. He has disappeared after that.

Shi’s demise, for accusations resembling those made—and overcome—in 2015, was the most prominent in a series of scandals that have rocked the nation's Buddhist temples in recent months.

Controversies and Political Scrutiny

These events highlight the increasingly unstable position of powerful religious leaders in China, as government backing for the commercialisation of religious sites is replaced by an focus on austerity and loyalty to the state.

In the same month, a well-known cleric known as Daolu—real name {Wu Bing|Wu—was stripped of his title by the national Buddhist organization after police in Zhejiang province said that he was under investigation for alleged deception. The monk is accused of collecting donations under the guise of collecting money for unmarried pregnant women and underprivileged youth, which was actually spent on personal extravagances. The facts are unclear if he, who has not been heard from since the story emerged, denies the allegation.

In the following month, a video of monks from the city of Hangzhou's Lingyin Temple sitting around a table counting large sums of money went viral, catapulting the ancient temple into a online controversy.

“People who worship Buddha struggle financially, and clerics become rich,” commented one online observer.

Wealth and Spirituality

There is nothing built-in in Buddhism in China that forbids the amassing of riches, says an expert, an associate professor of East and South Asian religions. In the Middle Ages, monasteries stood in for financial institutions, lending cash to traders while charging substantial fees.

However while raising money for religious purposes is seen as permissible, growing personally rich can draw negative attention to one’s reputation.

Criticism comes from ordinary people who see riches as being spiritually corrosive, and, increasingly, from the government, which under the guidance of Xi Jinping has cracked down on excess wealth and corruption.

Overhauling the Temple's Business

The nation's temples have alternated in and out of political favour in recent decades. During the Chinese Communist party’s (CCP) agricultural restructuring in the 1950s, temples were stripped of their properties. Many religious sites were damaged or harmed in the cultural revolution of the 1960s-70s. But as the nation began a era of market changes and opening up in the 1980s, temples were back in vogue, with many embracing visitor attractions to support themselves, often with clear government support.

Among the well-known monastic leaders who seemed to gain individually in this time, Shi was the most successful. Born Liu, he entered the Shaolin temple in Henan province as a teenager in 1981. Back then, the temple was in disrepair. However as he advanced to leadership, he negotiated with local officials to re-open religious spaces and charge entry to visitors. Quickly, thousands were arriving, with the local government receiving a 70% cut. Gift shops selling Shaolin-branded merchandise also appeared, and the commercial entity was created.

Shi’s reputation grew in the meantime. In 2006, the Dengfeng city government gave him a luxury sports car valued at a million yuan to honor his contributions to local tourism. He shrugged off complaints, stating “Monks also need to eat.”

With money came political power. Between 1998 to 2018 he served as a delegate to the national legislature. During his tenure, he met international figures, diplomats and Queen Elizabeth II, and took a group of kung-fu practitioners to Russia for a show at the invitation of the Russian leader. This prompted one local near the temple to observe that the political heft of government representatives seemed insignificant in comparison with the abbot.

Growth and Challenges of the Temple Economy

Its popularity rose as the so-called “religious commerce” in the country expanded—its market size is predicted to reach 100 billion yuan by the close of the year.

As China suffers with slow economic growth, religious sites in theory are a benefit to both local governments and the public. The authorities gain from rising domestic spending as people flock to temple-cum-tourist attractions, while people finding it hard to find work or purpose in the community are increasingly turning to spirituality for support.

Yet temples also must tread an ever-tighter line between public appeal and state compliance. “Authorities is highly watchful to how much influence is being amassed by religion,” Cheung says.

Analysts believe that Shi’s ouster could have been due to a withdrawal of backing rather than any particular misconduct.

“It’s almost always that there is something else [going on] that has to do with support networks,” says Ian Johnson, the author of a book on religion, a volume about religion in China.

Xi has shown a particular interest in indigenous faiths. Early in his career he assisted in re-open significant Buddhist temples and develop them as tourist attractions, a blueprint for how the secular government could work with faith.

But in recent times, the leader has attempted to dial back the excesses of religious commercialisation. In 2017, the government updated its regulations on spiritual matters, stating that temples risked damaging the “pure and solemn reputation” of the nation's traditional beliefs. The new regulations stipulated that religious venues must be non-profit operations and prohibited the excessive promotion of fee-based rituals such as burning incense and drawing lots for fortune-telling.

A New Direction

Now it seems that the temple, located in the jagged Song Mountains, is being brought to heel. After being installed in the summer, the former abbot's replacement, an abbot named Shi Yinle with a image for modesty, declared an overhaul of the commercial operations. He stopped paid shows, banned costly consecration rituals, said he would remove {temple shops|on