Masters of Chinese Medicine

Since 1990, the state has been selecting distinguished veteran experts in Chinese medicine — commonly known in society as “National-Level Renowned TCM Practitioners.” Nineteen years later, the title of “TCM Master” was introduced, with 30 masters selected every four years. To date, 90 such masters have been named. The vast majority of these experts are well past seventy, having devoted their entire lives to the cause of Chinese medicine. They deserve our deepest respect.

The primary purpose of these selection programs is to inherit and promote traditional Chinese medical skills, preventing the cultural lineage from breaking — a noble endeavor that benefits both the present and future generations. However, these selections have had no participation from the general public. How well these veteran experts actually treat patients has not been particularly important; the number of papers published and research conducted has instead become the main criterion for selection.

This selection method has created a curious paradox: on one hand, these experts enjoy prestigious titles within the institutional system and are regarded as outstanding representatives of Chinese medicine; on the other hand, they frequently claim that the true masters of TCM are mainly found among folk practitioners. Coupled with the fact that some experts’ clinical skills are genuinely lacking, this has created a strange impression among the public — that the academic establishment is incompetent and that professors can’t actually treat patients.

Then there are those experts who have spent their entire careers in theoretical research without ever setting foot in a clinical setting. Before the market economy took hold, hospital doctors didn’t earn much, so many university professors saw no reason to waste their time seeing patients. But once they discovered that clinical consultations were more lucrative than publishing books, they flocked to clinics in droves, reinvented themselves as clinicians, and began making public appearances spouting all sorts of nonsense — such as the wellness theory that one should brush one’s teeth five times a day, which somehow became deeply embedded in popular consciousness.

What’s even more alarming is that the designated academic inheritors of these experts seem to have discovered that Chinese medicine is a rather lucrative business. Under the banner of the state, they have begun devouring this feast by any means necessary. Much like certain retired high-ranking officials who are compelled to make public appearances to earn money, many veteran experts — having lived lives indifferent to fame and fortune — have little in savings. When their families and students realize that these old gentlemen are veritable gold mines, all manner of schemes that defy human imagination begin to emerge. For instance, some experts have been given a price tag — becoming their designated disciple requires a certain sum of silver, and pay enough and you get the title. This is simply beyond the pale.

Difficulty in seeing a doctor — and even greater difficulty in securing an appointment with an expert — is one of the great pains of contemporary society. A while ago, I came across a WeChat public account that purported to regularly publish updates on a certain TCM Master’s recent clinical activities, releasing a real medical case each week. I was quite excited, as this particular master is someone I deeply admire. Yet to my bewilderment, the promised regular updates never materialized. To date, only three cases have been published, with no follow-up on the subsequent treatment outcomes. Frustrated, I did some searching online and ventured a few guesses as to why:

1. The old gentleman’s appointments are extremely hard to get — getting one this time is no guarantee for next time.
2. The treatment results were unsatisfactory.
3. The patients recovered.

This is a very serious matter. I have always placed great importance on studying the experiences of various schools, especially in recent years, as many academic inheritors have published collections of their masters’ clinical wisdom. There is, however, a major question mark: many of the medical cases presented are isolated instances with no follow-up. You have no idea how the patient fared after taking the prescribed formula, yet the book’s compilers can somehow extract a perfectly logical set of principles from an incomplete case record. This is nothing short of fabrication out of thin air.

Here is another very serious matter: the actual writers of many of these books are students with even less experience, less insight, and less erudition than myself. These “experiences,” written through the mystical art of speculation by people with at least a fifty-year experience gap — do they really have the audacity to sell them? Aren’t they afraid of ruining their reputation?

To add one more very serious matter: many experts haven’t actually left behind sufficiently rich clinical case records. To distill clinically applicable principles from such fragmentary evidence is truly asking a lot of these compilers.

In truth, many wise and conscientious veteran experts have long been aware of the problems I’ve identified. But they are powerless to change things. They feel they must first ensure the tradition is “passed down.” They fear that Chinese medicine might die on their watch. They are “desperate” to teach more people and leave behind more knowledge.

Rest assured — Chinese medicine will not perish in our generation.

中文原文 / Chinese Original