Alex Weber

Fall 2005

My research was conducted over the course of two visits to the Shaolin temple in Henan China. During the course of my time there, I interviewed apprentice and practicing monks, the martial arts students and teachers in residence at the numerous schools surrounding the temple, tour guides, and local businesspeople. Of principle interest to me was the on-going government-supported campaign of the current abbot, Shi Yong Xin, to "preserve the cultural integrity of the Shaolin temple," which has included extensive renovations to the temple facilities, the construction of a large tourist complex, the relocation of several hundred local residents, and applications through the newly established Henan Shaolin Industrial Development Co., Ltd. for world cultural heritage status with the United Nations and copyright privileges in over 80 countries. Western reporters and local Chinese alike have criticized the campaign as a commercial venture designed to give the Chinese Communist Party a monopoly on tourism, and there is ample evidence to support some of these claims, but the picture that emerges after extensive first and second hand research is that of a devout Buddhist abbot doing his best to protect the spiritual legacy of his order within the framework of the system available to him.

Commercialization of all things Shaolin is simultaneously a threat to the integrity of the traditional spiritual practice of the monastery and the force that saved it from ruin. By the early 1980’s, the monastic population consisted of less than two-dozen monks scraping by on subsistence farming techniques. The resurgence of interest in the temple that followed the release of Jet Li’s movie "The Shaolin Temple" brought hordes of tourists flocking to this remote, extremely poor agrarian community, and canny locals quickly saw an alternative to subsistence farming hawking souvenirs. In addition to the creation of a tourist industry, the ‘kung fu explosion’ of the eighties generated massive interest in studying martial arts at Shaolin, credited with being the birthplace of all martial arts and certainly the most famous in the martial arts world. This provided impetus for many martial arts masters (some of them former Shaolin monks, some of them trained in other places, some of them con men out to make a quick yuan) to found schools, all claiming to hold the key to true Shaolin kung fu. But in addition to creating a chaotic atmosphere around this once tranquil valley in the Shaoshi mountains, the popularization of all things Shaolin has brought new monks to the temple, and the tourist revenue has provided an opportunity for the reconstruction of temple buildings destroyed by warlords and the cultural revolution.

The Chinese Communist Party has designated the Shaolin temple and the vicinity as a ‘scenic spot,’ the official label applied to a high-traffic tourist destination. This area includes the temple itself, the neighboring "pagoda forest" where the remains of deceased monks and abbots are interred, a statue to Bodhidharma and the cave where according to legend he sat in meditation for nine years, and a handful of small temples and nunneries that dot the surrounding mountains. The much-needed renovations to the temple buildings and supporting structures have been carried out with government funds. In addition to the construction of new temple facilities, a massive parking lot and gate structure have been erected, as well as the Shaolin Wushu Guan, a sprawling structure that is a martial arts school, cultural museum, and exhibition hall combined. Nearby mountain peaks that require an arduous climb to attain the summit (although the monks from the temple have been known to be able to dash to the top in a mere twenty minutes) can now be reached by cable car. When finished, the new temple buildings provide resources that haven’t been available to the temple in over a century—adequate housing for the monks, halls for the study of sutras, and so forth are all currently being added. A common complaint is that much of the original charm has been restored right out of the temple complex; as is the case with almost all of the Buddhist and Taoist temples in China, Shaolin sustained damage during the cultural revolution, and now that the CCP is restoring them in search of the almighty tourist dollar there is a tendency to paint them in garish colors that can seem out of place and anachronistic. The problem is compounded by the fact that there are no existing plans or records of the original temple layout. However, the temple complex is beautiful, and the modern construction is based on traditional styles. Complaints are mainly manifestations of bitterness over government presence at the temple. The tourist industry is the most notable and dominant feature of the environment. With over three hundred licenses issued to date, tour guides outnumber monks three to one. Every morning, buses disgorge throngs of domestic and foreign tourists who wander through and gawk, snap pictures, pose with statues and monks, and so forth. This is disruptive to the atmosphere of what is still a practicing temple; one young monk told me of a time that a drunk and obnoxious visitor was being so disrespectful that the monk and his friend were incensed to the point that they quickly changed into civilian clothes and returned violently to punish the offender. A common complaint from the monks is that it is difficult to find a peaceful place to meditate. Others seem to revel in the spectacle, posing for pictures and playing host to every tourist who crosses their path. Although tourist numbers dropped significantly in 2003 due to SARS, the temple reported over 1.5 million visitors in 2004.

In addition to the numerous official staff of security guards, tour guides, ticket punchers and the like, an unofficial economy has sprung up amongst locals seeking an alternative to scraping by farming wheat. Peddlers hawk food, bottled water, and souvenirs from stalls or from blankets on the ground, and people in motorcycle taxis and minivans make their living bringing tourists or foreign martial arts students to guesthouses and kung fu schools, who will give them a kickback for the business. The vast majority of these entrepreneurs used to live close to the temple to facilitate their business, but the establishment of the Shaolin Scenic Spot involved the forced relocation of most of the locals to the nearby town of Dengfeng. When I asked how the four hundred or so people who currently reside inside the main gates of the area were allowed to stay, the answer was invariably "guanxi," the Chinese word for political connections. However, an interview with the owner of a family-operated guesthouse revealed that those who remain inside face a unique set of difficulties. Everyone who was relocated receives a bi-annual stipend from the government, but those who remained must subsist entirely on their own earnings. They had to pay for the construction of their houses, whereas those who were relocated were given government-subsidized housing. Most challenging of all is the constant threat that at any time they could be forced to relocate and their substantial investments would come to naught. Naturally, the local peddlers and businesspeople are the ones who chafe the most against the campaign to preserve the integrity of Shaolin, but the end result has been a sharp decrease in the sheer chaos of the immediate temple environment, a result that is obviously desirable to the temple administration.

Another ubiquitous feature of Shaolin are the martial arts schools that literally line the road from the main gates to the neighboring town of Dengfeng. There are over 70 schools in the immediate area, the largest of which boasts an enrollment of 40,000 students. These students range in age from as young as four years old to people in their mid-twenties; the vast majority of students are of elementary school age or adolescents. These students are only allowed to return home one month out of the year to celebrate the New Year, and train six days a week. In addition to a grueling regimen of physical exercise and martial arts training, they have three or four hours of more traditional schooling (classes like math, science, and English) a day. Because many students have difficulties adjusting to the Spartan lifestyle, it is common to see senior students and instructors posted on duty outside of the school complexes at night to catch runaways. There are female students alongside the boys, but the highest female enrollment at the schools I investigated was approximately three percent. Many of these students dream of being movie stars, but most will become bodyguards, soldiers, police, martial arts teachers, or physical education instructors. Most striking to me was that although these schools teach very traditional Shaolin martial arts, there is a complete lack of interest in the Chan Buddhism that provides the core of this practice, and (with the exception of one school run by a former monk) none of the spiritual or ‘internal’ practices of the art are taught to the students.

Like the local residents, the vast majority of the martial arts schools that had cropped up around the temple were relocated to Dengfeng. Only three remain inside the main gates of the scenic spot, one of which has its administrative offices inside the temple proper. Again, the determining factor in who was allowed to remain is guanxi; the master of that particular school just happens to be a personal friend of the abbot.

Foreign martial arts pilgrims from more than thirty countries train at these schools, but the vast majority of students are Chinese. The foreigners pay grossly inflated tuition prices, but most receive preferential treatment, better accommodations, and translation services. A handful of foreigners forego the school experience in favor of one-on-one training with the monks, some of whom are happy to earn a little money by giving personal lessons. I encountered one young German man who had come to the temple at the age of sixteen, and has been living there for six years. He was originally attracted to the martial arts, but now devotes his time exclusively to meditation and traditional Buddhist practice under the auspices of one of the older monks who has taken him on as a student. He supports himself in the same way as the local businessmen: by introducing foreign martial artists to schools in exchange for kickbacks, and providing translation services when needed.

In spite of the chaotic environment created by the tourists and martial arts students, the monks are a close-knit, spiritually focused community. Apprentice monks receive intense training in all of the traditional Shaolin disciplines: dharma, meditation, the martial arts, the breathing exercises of qi gong, folk medicine, and so on. One monk described the order as his family, bound together by Confucian relationships and supporting each other in their quest for spiritual development. The abbot was consistently praised as a man devoted to his spiritual family, who had their best interests at heart. The temple has decided not to ordain any new monks for the next two years, preferring to focus instead on helping to raise the young monks they have. Much has been made in the western press of the mysterious political connections with which he has reclaimed the area surrounding Shaolin for the temple, and he does indeed appear to be well connected. As one former monk put it, "throughout history, the Shaolin monks have always served the Emperor. Now they serve the Communist Party." That may be true, but the Party serves Shaolin as well. By lending considerable support to the abbot’s campaign (much of which is devoted to stressing the fact that Shaolin is a spiritual discipline and more than the practice of martial arts), giving funding and protection, and taking pride in the rich heritage of the monastery, the CCP plays a significant role in ensuring the continued vitality of the order. ''It's a process that the society has to go through, spreading standards," abbot Yong Xin says. "What Shaolin is trying to do is work from our origins, from the basics, and we're doing pretty well.'' When at home, the monks lead a lifestyle very similar to the one that has been practiced at the temple for over a thousand years. They meditate, attend chanting services, exercise with running and kung fu, etc. But the young warrior monks spend almost half of their lives on the road, giving exhibitions and instruction, and serving as cultural ambassadors to the world. Much like their 17^th century predecessors who fought for the Ming army and traveled under the Imperial banner, the Shaolin monks of today are cultural ambassadors for their homeland.

As to the temple’s recent mercantile efforts, the abbot is very matter-of-fact. ''We are not against pursuing commercial interests. We only hope we can play a positive role in the society, while not violating a spirit that is 1,500 years old.'' Money is being made selling the Shaolin name regardless of how the temple administration might feel about it, so it is only natural that the temple receives a cut. In the end, the temple manages to be both a place of serious refuge and the spectacle that the tourists desire. And although most tourists (and reporters as well) don’t see much of the true heart of the temple, their patronage allows that heart to continue beating. One of the monks complained of a common tendency among visitors to "look at a few buildings, and go away thinking they’ve seen the real Shaolin." The truth is, the majority of visitors have no desire to see the real Shaolin, and there are plenty of people willing to provide the spectacle they seek.