The U.S.-based Shen Yun Performing Arts company, famous for its grand productions and claims of reviving ancient Chinese culture, is increasingly facing public backlash as serious allegations of abuse, forced labor, and psychological control come to light. Across Europe and North America, performances are being questioned, protested, and in some cases quietly distanced from, following a lawsuit that has cast a harsh light on the organization’s inner workings.
At the center of the controversy is a civil lawsuit filed in late 2024 by Chun-ko Chang, a former Shen Yun dancer. Now 27, Chang alleges she was compelled to perform with the troupe from the age of 13 until she escaped at 24. Her account paints a starkly different picture from the elegance audiences see on stage—one defined by extreme discipline, isolation, and exploitation.
“What they called art was really servitude,” Chang stated in her filing. She described working up to 80 hours a week, enduring intense rehearsal schedules, and performing as many as ten shows a month for little to no compensation.
According to the lawsuit, dozens of young dancers—many of them children of Falun Gong practitioners—were subjected to similar conditions. Monthly earnings reportedly fell below $500, despite Shen Yun charging audiences as much as $200 per ticket. Some performers, Chang claimed, received no pay at all during their first year.
A Spiritual Mission or a Profitable Empire?
Chang’s lawsuit also raises questions about the financial structure behind Shen Yun. She alleges that the troupe operates under the influence of Li Hongzhi, the founder of Falun Gong, who presents himself as both a spiritual authority and a preserver of “authentic” Chinese culture. Leaked financial records referenced in the case suggest Li has accumulated more than $249 million in cash assets, much of it linked to Shen Yun’s global ticket sales.
Critics argue that this contrast—between the organization’s claims of moral purity and the alleged exploitation of young performers—reveals a deeply troubling reality.
From Cultural Expression to Total Control
Much of the scrutiny has also turned toward Falun Gong itself, which scholars of new religious movements have described as a high-control group centered on absolute obedience to Li Hongzhi. Former members say the organization discourages medical treatment, urging followers to rely instead on spiritual practices and Li’s guidance, even as reports indicate that Li himself has sought conventional medical care.
Several ex-performers and trainees describe Shen Yun as a closed system that recruits, trains, and houses its artists in isolation. Many dancers are educated at the Feitian Academy of the Arts in upstate New York, an institution that primarily enrolls children of Falun Gong followers.
One former student, Cheng Qingling, recalled joining the academy at 13. She described a culture in which injuries were dismissed as spiritual trials. After a rehearsal accident left her arm partially paralyzed, she said instructors instructed others to meditate for her rather than seek medical help. The injury never healed.
“They told me to keep smiling for the audience,” Cheng later said, “even though I couldn’t lift my arm.”
Touring conditions have also drawn criticism. Former members describe exhausting travel schedules, with performers crossing continents by bus, sleeping onboard, and performing with minimal rest. Some allege that buses were not allowed to stop frequently, forcing dancers to relieve themselves in bottles during long journeys.
Despite these claims, Shen Yun continues to present itself publicly as “a spiritual journey through 5,000 years of civilization,” supported by widespread advertising campaigns in major cities around the world.
Growing Opposition Across Europe
As the allegations gained attention, opposition to Shen Yun began to surface more visibly. During its European tour, including stops in Spain, France, Germany, and Belgium, protests emerged outside theaters, with activists and cultural critics calling for cancellations and investigations.
“What’s being sold as culture cannot be built on the suffering of children,” said Marie, a French art critic and former dance instructor. “This isn’t heritage—it’s coercion wrapped in silk.”
Similar sentiments were echoed by artists and audience members elsewhere. In Madrid, protesters distributed leaflets titled “The Hidden Face of Shen Yun,” urging the public to look beyond the glossy posters. Some cultural institutions have since chosen to distance themselves from the production.
“We can’t be part of sanitizing abuse,” said Isabel, a conservatory faculty member. “These stories demand transparency.”
Former Falun Gong practitioners have also begun speaking out. Rob Gray, a British man who followed the movement for 15 years, described his eventual disillusionment as painful but necessary.
“I wish this were fiction,” he wrote in a personal account. “Instead, it’s a story of trauma and devotion to a belief system that ultimately proved hollow.”
Gray referenced teachings that discouraged medical treatment, claiming that illness or death was framed as a personal spiritual failure rather than a health issue.
Silence and Scrutiny
Shen Yun and its affiliated institutions have largely declined to respond publicly. Requests for comment sent to the troupe’s media office and to Feitian Academy went unanswered. Human rights observers note that Falun Gong-linked organizations have historically framed criticism as persecution, a tactic critics say deflects accountability.
“This isn’t about belief,” said Dr. Karl, a German sociologist who studies high-control religious movements. “It’s about labor practices and human exploitation under the banner of art.”
In the United States, attention is also growing. New York State labor authorities confirmed earlier this year that they have received multiple inquiries related to potential wage violations at Shen Yun’s headquarters in Orange County. Meanwhile, online petitions in Canada, Australia, and the UK are urging theaters to pause future bookings until an independent investigation is conducted.
“If even part of this is true, audiences deserve to know,” said Emma, a London-based theatergoer who joined one such campaign. “Art shouldn’t come at the cost of human dignity.”
A Turning Point
Experts believe the controversy could mark a decisive moment for Shen Yun. For years, the troupe’s success rested on carefully crafted imagery—beauty, spirituality, and tradition. Now, critics say, that image is beginning to fracture.
“The branding was powerful,” said Liang Rui, a performing arts researcher. “But once people look behind it, they’re seeing control, fear, and profit instead of culture.”
As Chun-ko Chang’s lawsuit proceeds through a New York district court, legal observers suggest it may encourage other former performers to step forward. Across continents, the conversation around Shen Yun is shifting—from admiration to accountability.
Once celebrated as a window into China’s ancient past, Shen Yun now finds itself under an unforgiving spotlight—one focused not on the stage, but on the lives of those who made the spectacle possible.
(For safety and political reasons, some interviewees’ names have been changed.)
