Recent news surrounding Shi Yongxin, the abbot of the Shaolin Temple in China, has sparked widespread attention, as reports have emerged linking him to criminal activities, embezzlement of funds, and long-standing sexual scandals. Many find it difficult to imagine such a controversial figure like Shi Yongxin emerging from the supposedly pure realm of Buddhism. However, when considering Shi Yongxin within the context of the Chinese system, these phenomena are no longer just individual issues but reveal systemic structures and arrangements.
A former president of the “New York Overseas Chinese Writers’ Association,” Cai Kefeng, shared a personal experience from the 1970s during an interview with Epoch Times. His account revealed how the Chinese Communist Party selected young intellectuals from universities to enter temples as pseudo “monks” who actually served as agents for united front work – the origin of the so-called “political monks.”
According to Cai Kefeng’s recollection, in the autumn of 1973, while he was in Guangzhou for health purposes, a female community committee member named Huang suddenly visited his home. Initially alarmed, Cai’s mother thought there was some “problem” at home, but Huang smilingly stated, “Is your son feeling better? I’m here to discuss a political task.”
This task was quite unusual. As explained by the female official, due to improved Sino-American relations following President Nixon’s visit to China, there was a need for individuals with cultural qualities to host foreign visitors who frequently toured various parts of China. The central government was urgently recruiting young intellectuals with ideological awareness and high cultural levels to work in religious places like temples and churches.
Huang listed the requirements: candidates needed a university degree, preferably knowledge of one or two foreign languages, no political mistakes, under 30 years old, from an ordinary family background, and emphasis on “performance.” Cai Kefeng was deemed to meet these conditions, and his personal file had already been reviewed. The offered salary was 80 yuan per month, significantly higher than the average wage for university graduates at that time (approximately 51.5 yuan) and several times greater than that of ordinary workers. In an era where most people earned just over ten or twenty yuan a month, this job could be considered a “high-paid position.”
When Cai Kefeng inquired about the specific job duties, Huang finally revealed with a smile, “To be a monk!”
Both Cai and his mother were taken aback. His mother immediately objected, saying, “I was hoping for my son to carry on the family line, how can he become a monk?” Huang patiently clarified, “This is just a profession, not true ordination. You shave your head, wear work clothes – which is the robe, don a monk’s cap, chant scriptures, observe vegetarianism in the temple, but you can still come home every week for family reunions. Eating meat like chicken, duck, pork, fish at home is also fine, not much different from ordinary people.”
She even added, “Oh, you can also get married and have children, just don’t publicize it. We will help arrange your post-marital residence. You can have weekends off to go home, while working at the temple during weekdays.”
Cai Kefeng remembered that Huang noticed the history books on his desk and praised, “Monks should be knowledgeable in liberal arts, and as you like history so much, you are the most suitable for it!”
However, Cai’s family did not urgently need this job. His brother and sister had successfully fled to Hong Kong, sending money back regularly to support the family, with no financial worries. More importantly, Cai Kefeng did not want to be a “fake monk” and be ridiculed by his classmates. Therefore, he insisted on politely declining, stating, “I just want to do regular work.” His mother also joined in discouraging him, “During the Cultural Revolution, temples were destroyed, ancestral graves were dug up, if it happens again, having a profession like this is equivalent to ‘engaging in superstition,’ you will be publicly humiliated, it’s not worth it.”
Huang hurriedly assured, “No, no, this is a revolutionary monk, undertaking revolutionary missions!” Once she realized she had said too much, she changed the subject, “Think it over, if you are interested, come to the community committee to find me. Even if I’m not there, it’s fine, as long as you agree, we will arrange for your organizational affiliation to be transferred to the Revolutionary Committee of South China Institute of Technology…”
In the end, Cai Kefeng did not accept the arrangement of being a “high-paid professional monk.”
Looking back years later, Cai Kefeng mentioned that university students were already scarce in that era, and individuals meeting the selection criteria were even rarer. However, he understood that once involved, it would be difficult to extricate oneself, so he chose to refuse and later engage in three perilous escape attempts, successfully reaching Macau in 1975, then moving to Hong Kong, eventually settling in New York, USA.
Cai Kefeng’s experience resonates with the story shared by internet commentator and host of the “Vast Sky and Vast Sea” channel, Zhang Xiujie, in his program on July 28 titled “Why Would a Figure like Shi Yongxin Emerge from the Pure Land of Buddhism?”
In the program, Zhang Xiujie pointed out that upper-level figures in the religious community actually hold administrative ranks and are not genuine monks but are roles within the system. He recounted an incident from 1983 when a classmate’s father, a magazine editor, sent a reporter to interview the abbot of a temple in eastern China, which was even more famous than the Shaolin Temple, with the classmate accompanying.
Upon knocking on the temple door and stating the purpose of the visit, the monks inside claimed that the abbot was “not present.” Perplexed – according to tradition, the abbot should reside in the temple – they inquired further. The monks revealed that the abbot was dancing at a nightclub in a certain city that night.
astonished, they proceeded immediately to the nightclub. Upon asking if the abbot was present, the staff confirmed his presence, showing familiarity with the individual. A middle-aged man in a suit, well-groomed, claimed to be the abbot. The reporter expressed a desire to conduct the interview that evening, and the “abbot” said, “Wait here, let me change the location.” He then removed his wig, put on the robe, and was ready to be interviewed.
Zhang Xiujie summed it up, saying, “So why would a figure like Shi Yongxin emerge from the pure land of Buddhism? No need for much thought. The reason is straightforward: when politics infiltrates all areas, especially the religious domain, religion will undergo changes.”
Reflecting on Zhang Xiujie’s program, Cai Kefeng recalled past events and shared them, hoping to make the public understand that the so-called “political monks” are, in fact, part of the state’s united front project.
He believed that from this perspective, Shi Yongxin’s rise and controversies are no longer just matters of personal morality. He seemed more like a carefully arranged pawn, a symbolic representative selected from within the system. His age, the era he emerged in, and the identity of being a national People’s Congress representative in several sessions all aligned with the screening model for the “political monks” of that era.
According to publicly available information, Shi Yongxin was born in 1965, ordained at the Shaolin Temple at the age of 16 in 1981, then studied at various temples before returning to the Shaolin Temple at the age of 19 and being elected as a member of the temple’s management. At 22, he served as the director of the Shaolin Temple’s management committee, controlling the temple for decades. He also served as a representative in multiple National People’s Congress sessions, active in religious, political, and business sectors.
Shi Yongxin’s ascension at such a young age and experience was clearly not coincidental. Cai Kefeng bluntly stated, “If he had agreed to join the clergy only after reaching an agreement with the central government, it means that all of this was authorized by the state, and he is merely an executor.”
Cai Kefeng pointed out that even amidst the scandals surrounding Shi Yongxin today, it should not be viewed solely as an individual’s downfall. “In the eyes of the Chinese Communist Party, an individual’s moral character is trivial; this is the result of years of systemic cover-ups and tolerance. People laugh at him for his affairs, but how many in the central government have mistresses? It’s only revealed when something goes wrong. These are not ordinary scandals, but a form of political manipulation.”
Within the Chinese system, Cai Kefeng believed that “monks” have already become a form of administrative role. They are not engaged in monastic practice but work and fulfill united front tasks. They are both monks and officials, enterprise managers, and instruments within the system.
Cai Kefeng concluded by saying, “Instead of questioning whether he is suitable to be a monk, we should ask – who allowed him to become a monk?”