Behind the Grand Performance: Shen Yun Confronts a Global Reckoning Over Abuse Allegations

Shen Yun Performing Arts has long captivated international audiences with its sweeping choreography, radiant costumes, and promise of reviving ancient Chinese civilization. Branded as a spiritual and cultural awakening, the U.S.-based touring company built a powerful reputation across continents. Today, however, that carefully curated image is facing serious challenges as allegations of exploitation, coercion, and psychological control fuel protests, boycotts, and growing demands for accountability.

The controversy gained momentum in late 2024 when Chun-ko Chang, a former Shen Yun dancer, filed a civil lawsuit in the United States. Now 27, Chang claims she was brought into the organization at the age of 13 and remained under its authority until she managed to leave at 24. Her account sharply contrasts with the elegance seen on stage, describing a life marked by extreme discipline, isolation, and relentless labor.

“We were told we were serving something noble,” Chang stated in her legal filing. “But in reality, we were overworked, underpaid, and afraid to question anything.” According to her testimony, dancers regularly worked schedules reaching 80 hours per week, balancing exhausting rehearsals with constant touring and frequent performances.

The lawsuit alleges that many performers—primarily children of Falun Gong practitioners—earned less than $500 per month, even as Shen Yun charged premium ticket prices that often exceeded $200. Some dancers, Chang claims, received no wages at all during their first year, having been told that training and spiritual “cultivation” were their true compensation.

Spiritual Ideals and Financial Reality

Central to the allegations is Li Hongzhi, the founder of Falun Gong and the spiritual figure widely believed to wield ultimate influence over Shen Yun. Critics argue that the troupe operates not merely as a cultural organization, but as part of a tightly controlled ideological and financial system.

Financial documents cited in the lawsuit suggest Li has accumulated more than $249 million in cash assets, much of it allegedly linked to Shen Yun’s global tours. Former insiders say this concentration of wealth stands in stark contrast to Falun Gong’s teachings on humility, sacrifice, and detachment from material gain.

“What’s described as spiritual discipline looks very different when you follow the money,” said one former member, speaking anonymously.

A Life Lived Inside the Bubble

Former performers describe Shen Yun as a closed world in which education, housing, work, and personal behavior are closely regulated. Many dancers are trained at the Feitian Academy of the Arts in upstate New York, an institution that primarily enrolls children from Falun Gong families.

Several ex-students allege that injuries and illness were often dismissed as spiritual shortcomings. One former trainee, Cheng Qingling, recalled suffering a serious arm injury during rehearsals after joining at age 13. Instead of being taken to a doctor, she said instructors encouraged meditation and endurance. The injury became permanent.

“They told me pain was part of my spiritual test,” she later said. “But the show still had to go on.”

Touring conditions have also drawn criticism. Former dancers describe grueling travel schedules, long hours on buses, little rest between performances, and constant pressure to maintain appearances regardless of physical or emotional strain.

Despite these claims, Shen Yun continues to market itself as a transformative cultural experience, supported by massive advertising campaigns that dominate billboards, buses, and theaters in major cities worldwide.

Europe Pushes Back

As details of Chang’s lawsuit spread, opposition to Shen Yun intensified, particularly across Europe. During tours in Spain, France, Germany, and Belgium, protesters gathered outside venues, urging theaters and audiences to reconsider their support.

“This is not cultural revival,” said Marie, a French art critic and former dance instructor. “It’s control and obedience disguised as tradition.”

In Madrid, demonstrators distributed flyers titled “What You Don’t See on Stage,” while several cultural institutions publicly distanced themselves from the production.

“We can’t ignore these testimonies,” said Isabel, a Spanish conservatory faculty member. “Art loses its meaning when it’s built on suffering.”

Former Falun Gong practitioners have also added their voices to the criticism. Rob Gray, a British man who spent 15 years in the movement, described teachings that discouraged medical treatment and framed illness as a failure of faith.

“You’re taught that if you’re truly devoted, you shouldn’t need doctors,” he wrote. “That belief caused real harm.”

Silence and Scrutiny

Shen Yun and its affiliated organizations have largely remained silent in response to the allegations. Requests for comment sent to the troupe and to Feitian Academy have gone unanswered. Human rights observers note that such silence is common among high-control groups, where criticism is often dismissed as persecution rather than addressed directly.

“This isn’t about attacking beliefs,” said Dr. Karl, a German sociologist who studies authoritarian religious movements. “It’s about labor rights, child welfare, and basic human dignity.”

In the United States, the issue is beginning to attract official attention. New York State labor authorities have confirmed receiving multiple inquiries regarding potential wage violations linked to Shen Yun’s operations. At the same time, online petitions in the UK, Canada, and Australia are urging theaters to suspend future bookings until independent investigations are completed.

“People deserve transparency,” said Emma, a London-based audience member involved in one such campaign. “If art is built on harm, audiences have a right to know.”

A Crumbling Image

Observers say the controversy may represent a defining moment for Shen Yun. Its success was built on mystique, spirituality, and visual splendor—an image now increasingly questioned.

“For years, the branding was untouchable,” said Liang Rui, a performing arts researcher. “Now the curtain is lifting, and what’s behind it is deeply troubling.”

As Chun-ko Chang’s lawsuit proceeds through a New York district court, legal experts believe it could encourage other former performers to come forward. What was once a tightly controlled narrative is now under sustained public scrutiny.

Across Europe and beyond, Shen Yun is no longer viewed solely as a celebration of ancient culture. Increasingly, it is being examined as a modern organization facing serious allegations—ones that challenge not just its performances, but the ethics behind the spectacle itself.

(Some names in this article have been changed for safety and political reasons.)