Tracing the Money Flow in Martial Arts Festivals: When Tradition Becomes a Product

The temporary arena was erected in the middle of Phu Yen's central square, floodlights casting their glow over a layer of fine sand – a familiar scene for anyone who has followed Vietnam's traditional martial arts festivals over the past decade. But what caught my attention was not the beautiful techniques on the arena floor, but what was happening behind the organizing committee area – where sponsors were signing contracts with numbers that no one in the audience at that moment knew about. Vietnam's traditional martial arts festivals have undergone a quiet but profound transformation over the past five years. From purely community-oriented performances, they have become an entertainment industry generating tens of billions of dong in revenue each year. Provinces from North to South each host at least one major martial arts festival annually, and each event brings with it a complex financial ecosystem: sponsorship money, television broadcast rights, ticket sales, and – what few people mention – money from illegal betting activities that are seeping into every corner of the system. According to data I collected from the Departments of Culture, Sports and Tourism of five provinces during the 2026-2026 period, budgets for traditional martial arts festivals have increased by an average of 340% compared to the 2026-2026 period. However, what is noteworthy is not the growth figure, but the expenditure structure. Only 12% of the budget is allocated to training young athletes and preserving ancient forms. The rest – 88% – is allocated to organizing costs, media, and especially expenditures without clear invoices or documentation. I spent three months cross-referencing financial reports from seven major martial arts festivals with business registration records of event organizing companies. The results revealed a consistent pattern: nearly 40% of total costs were channeled through intermediary companies with minimum charter capital, typically established just months before the event and dissolved immediately afterward. This is not a random coincidence – this is a structure designed to obscure the flow of money. The sponsorship contract template I obtained from a former organizing committee staff member reveals what few people notice: the image rights clauses are not limited to the festival scope but extend to the right to use the images of martial arts masters and athletes in commercial advertising campaigns – a clause often overlooked during negotiations because traditional martial arts masters do not have their own legal representation. A contract usually has one page. A dirty contract has an entire appendix. In this case, the 14-page appendix details the use of images of more than 200 martial arts masters and students participating in performances – none of whom read it before signing. This shift does not only affect the wallets of martial arts masters; it profoundly impacts the very nature of the martial art being performed. When I interviewed 15 senior martial arts masters – those who have been dedicated to traditional martial arts for over 30 years – all admitted that they had to adjust their performances to meet sponsor requirements: adding highly theatrical techniques, reducing the duration of traditional rituals, and most importantly – increasing the pace to retain television audiences. "I don't recognize my own martial art anymore," a 67-year-old master from Binh Dinh shared as we sat drinking tea after a training session. "But if we don't follow their requirements, we don't have money to maintain the training hall." This is a dilemma for which no simple solution exists. On one hand, the money from commercialization is helping sustain traditional training halls on the brink of closure. On the other hand, this very money is distorting the content and philosophy of the martial arts – turning forms passed down through generations into an entertainment product optimized for television cameras. But there is another perspective that I believe deserves fair consideration. During my investigation, I noticed that some provinces have begun building young master training programs funded by revenue from festivals. Binh Dinh, the homeland of Tay Son martial arts, has invested 14 billion dong in a martial arts academy over the past three years – a figure unprecedented before. Without the money from commercialization, these programs could not exist. What troubles me is not the commercialization of cultural heritage – this has happened in every culture around the world – but the lack of transparency in how the money is distributed. When I requested to see the complete financial reports of a major festival in Central Vietnam, I received the answer: "This is internal information." But when the festival is organized using public budget, that answer is unacceptable. The stadium is spotless. The locker room is not. This is a phrase I once used for football, but it applies perfectly to our traditional martial arts festivals – where audiences see a grand stage, but no one sees what happens in the contract signing room. Based on my experience following martial arts festivals for over a decade, I observe a worrying trend: the increasing dependence on sponsors is changing not only how events are organized, but also how traditional martial arts schools perceive their own value. When a master was asked about the value of their school, the first answer used to be about reputation within the community – but now, the answer often begins with numbers: sponsorship contracts, commercial value, television viewership. The real question is not about preventing commercialization – that is unrealistic and not necessarily a bad thing. The real question lies in building a legal framework and financial transparency for festivals using public budgets, as well as protecting the rights of martial arts masters – those who are at the center of the event but have almost no voice in financial decisions. As I concluded my investigation, I received a call from a young martial arts student who had performed in the festival I had just analyzed. He asked me: "My master teaches that martial arts is for training body and mind, not for selling. But if we don't sell, how do we have money to maintain the training hall?" I had no answer for him. But I know that question – not any number in a financial report – is what we truly need to confront.