“She talks in a way that makes things sound so simple that you can understand,” 
says Franky Widjaja, son of Eka Tjipta Widjaja, founder of Indonesia’s Sinar 
Mas Group. “There’s nothing mystical about what she says.”

 

 ...
 http://www.forbes.com/sites/shuchingjeanchen/ Shu-Ching Jean Chen 
http://www.forbes.com/sites/shuchingjeanchen/, Contributor
 Contributing Correspondent of Forbes Asia Magazine
 

 4/12/2010 @ 12:00AM Sister of Charity 
http://www.forbes.com/global/2010/0412/companies-cheng-yen-taiwan-philanthropy-widjaja-sister-of-charity.html
 


 
 Dharma Master Cheng Yen may be a 72-year-old Buddhist nun adhering to a harsh 
daily regimen in a convent with 160 other nuns, but that doesn’t mean she’s 
missing out on the latest technology. Wherever she goes in her small temple 
abode in eastern Taiwan or in the sprawling office complex she oversees nearby, 
television screens are close by, including two where morning service is held. 
She presides over a daily videoconference and, from the computer on her desk, 
holds emergency meetings via Webcam and tv. In the early 1990s she was quick to 
get an e-mail address and start surfing the Web.
 Cheng Yen is the founder and chief executive of a fast-growing charity, Taiwan 
Buddhist Tzu Chi Foundation, the largest noNGOvernmental organization in the 
Chinese world. Thanks to being so wired, she heard about the Haiti earthquake 
in January right after it hit. She immediately began coordinating a global 
fund-raising drive and dispatching relief.
 Often compared with Mother Teresa, Cheng Yen and five others started Tzu Chi 
in 1966 when they began sewing baby shoes to raise money for the poor. Begun in 
a wooden hut not far from its headquarters today, Tzu Chi now enlists 
entrepreneurs and other lay people as volunteers and organizes itself like a 
corporation. The number of donors hit 1 million in 1989, the same year that 
Cheng Yen published her first collection of philosophical musings, Jing Si 
Aphorisms. But its grassroots activity really caught the public’s attention 
after the foreign press started criticizing Taiwan as an island of greed during 
a stock market bubble in 1990. The book is now available in 11 languages and 
has sold 3.5 million copies, and Tzu Chi’s donors number 10 million.
 Cheng Yen never travels outside of Taiwan because she suffers from heart 
disease. But this doesn’t prevent her from taking Tzu Chi to faraway places; it 
has branches in 47 other countries, the largest number being in the U.S., where 
it has 99 field offices. Some 30% of its donors live outside of Taiwan, with 
the largest group–330,000–in Malaysia. Last year it raised $313 million in 
Taiwan and at least $30 million overseas; there’s no overall total because Tzu 
Chi doesn’t tally what all the branches collect. The branches are 
self-sustaining and seek funding from the headquarters only when necessary.
 The organization is a model of efficiency: Its staff numbers just 800, 
bolstered by its network of 2 million volunteers, up from 30,000 only 17 years 
ago. By comparison, the Red Cross has fewer than 1 million volunteers, but it 
pays 34,000 employees. Bangladesh’s BRAC, the world’s largest NGO by number of 
staff, employs more than 120,000.
 Since its first overseas mission in 1991 after a flood in Bangladesh, Tzu 
Chi’s medical and relief teams have been active in 70 countries, their 
signature blue shirts and white trousers visible in such far-flung places as 
Kosovo, Rwanda, Cambodia and North Korea. In North Korea, for many years after 
1998, Tzu Chi was the only NGO allowed to hand-deliver goods to recipients, not 
merely drop off the supplies at harbors as other international NGOs had to do.
 In 2003 Tzu Chi became Taiwan’s first NGO included under the UN’s umbrella, 
giving it protection in hot spots such as Afghanistan, and in 2008 it was the 
first offshore NGO allowed to register in China. In January Beijing ruled that 
its name, Tzu Chi (meaning “compassionate relief”), was worthy of copyright 
protection against a local copycat. “The best way to look at Tzu Chi from a 
management point of view is how its efficiency and brand name value continue to 
pull in volunteers and outside donations,” says Stan Shih, a cofounder of Acer. 
“Cheng Yen is no doubt one of the world’s best CEOs.”
 Shih met Cheng Yen in the 1990s through another Acer cofounder, Ken Tai, a Tzu 
Chi volunteer, and went on to attend a Tzu Chi summer camp held for 
businesspeople contributing $30,000 or more. Shih is working with Tzu Chi and 
other organizations to promote computer literacy as part of a pan-Asia effort.
 Chief executives are famous for their long hours, but Cheng Yen–who declined 
to talk to FORBES ASIA for this story–takes this to an extreme. Her office 
hours begin at 3:45 a.m. and end past 10 p.m. Her schedule is filled months 
ahead with visits from donors, volunteers, people asking for help and 
politicians, interrupted only by meals that last no longer than 15 minutes. 
Frugal to the point of hardship, she is known for using no more than one basin 
of water a day. A couple of times a year she travels around the island to visit 
volunteers and deliver speeches. A forceful speaker, she prods housewives to 
save part of their grocery money to help the poor with medical expenses, and 
she converts big-name business leaders into devout disciples.



For all the latest headlines visit Forbes Asia http://www.forbes.com/asia
 An early disciple was Wei Yin-Chun, one of the four founding brothers of 
Tingyi Holdings. In 1988, four years before the brothers moved to China to 
found what later would become the largest instant-noodle maker there, Wei, then 
31, was deeply touched by stories in a Tzu Chi publication and contacted its 
local office to make a donation. In 1995 he started working with Tzu Chi in 
China, doling out relief and building schools in remote villages. After 
completing a two-year apprenticeship, Wei became a disciple and now heads the 
food unit of Tzu Chi’s international aid arm. When disaster strikes, he puts 
aside work at the family business to focus on relief efforts, as he did in 
January for Haiti while on business in China. Now back in Taiwan at the helm of 
a family subsidiary, Wei Chuan Food, Wei set up a unit in 2008 inside the 
company to offer courses for the group’s 5,000 employees.
 Relentless and inspiring as Cheng Yen is, it’s her ability to deliver results 
while converting the philosophical thought of Buddhism into plain language and 
applying it to daily life that win her wide admiration. “She talks in a way 
that makes things sound so simple that you can understand,” says Franky 
Widjaja, son of Eka Tjipta Widjaja, founder of Indonesia’s Sinar Mas Group. 
“There’s nothing mystical about what she says.”
 The father, a Christian, and his son visited Cheng Yen for the first time just 
days before riots broke out in Indonesia in 1998 in the aftermath of the 
financial crisis. After returning, the Widjajas jumped into action, 
distributing food, toothpaste, instant noodles and other daily necessities to 
victims and the army during the riots. They also worked with Tzu Chi to clean 
up Jakarta’s notoriously polluted Angke River after disastrous flooding in 2002 
and to raise $30 million to resettle victims of the 2004 tsunami. With the help 
of volunteers such as the Widjajas, Tzu Chi arrived in Banda Aceh, capital of 
the area devastated by the tsunami, one day ahead of Indonesia’s president, 
several ministers and the army.
 Such grassroots mobilization is meshed with a consensus-driven decision-making 
structure at headquarters. Cheng Yen intervenes in contentious issues, such as 
in the decision to help China resettle millions of victims of the 1991 mass 
flooding in eastern China, even though politics stood in the way on both sides 
of the Taiwan Strait. It was Taiwan’s first relief effort in China–the Chinese 
government was suspicious of Tzu Chi’s motives, and some Taiwanese weren’t 
happy that Tzu Chi was helping mainlanders instead of focusing on domestic 
relief. “She can combine her charisma with the management of a modern 
organization,” says C. Julia Huang, an anthropology professor at National Tsing 
Hua University and author of a new book on Tzu Chi. “That makes Tzu Chi an 
interesting case study of a nonprofit organization, different from most other 
Buddhist groups.” Many Buddhist groups have trouble growing beyond their roots 
as a religious organization, she says.
 Mixing her idealism with perseverance, Cheng Yen often commits herself to a 
project before raising the money. Despite worries about funding, she overruled 
skeptics and agreed to the requests of every school headmaster who knocked at 
Tzu Chi’s door asking for money to rebuild after an earthquake flattened a 
slice of central Taiwan in 1999. Tzu Chi raised $300 million to build 51 
schools, all shock-resistant structures. After eight years of trying, she built 
her first hospital in 1986 by collecting small donations and bypassing big 
donors. “Do not leave trouble to our offspring,” she told her disciples when 
explaining why she declined an offer from a Japanese donor to underwrite the 
whole hospital project. She worried that relying on a single donor would 
jeopardize Tzu Chi’s independence if the donor demanded a bigger say in its 
operation.
 After six more hospitals came the establishment of a full-fledged university 
and a medical college, all in Taiwan, and a media group that includes a 24-hour 
global satellite TV station carrying in-house productions of news, dramas, talk 
shows and documentaries, as well as Cheng Yen’s speeches and notices of charity 
activities posted by its global offices from as far as Lesotho. The media group 
draws a quarter of its annual budget from a metal, plastic and paper recycling 
business in Taiwan staffed by 60,000 volunteers.
 Today Tzu Chi also runs Asia’s largest bone-marrow registry, and its reserve 
of emergency medical supplies, enough to treat 30,000 patients for a month, 
rivals that of leading medical missions. “Tzu Chi’s biggest asset is the 
master, the second asset is the volunteers, the third is the capital and 
experience of its entrepreneurs,” says Walter Huang, chairman of Texma 
International, a garmentmaker for U.S. brands such as  J.C. Penney  , gap and 
Tommy Hilfiger. Huang is among the five founding donors and managers of a 
nonprofit textile business under Tzu Chi using fabric made from recycled 
plastic bottles to sew blankets for refugees around the world.
 No apparent successor has emerged from Tzu Chi’s four deputies, all 
professional managers, or from the nuns. “We and the master always focus on 
now,” says Gary K.C. Ho, a real estate brokerage entrepreneur who heads the 
Canada branch. “Master hopes to finish everything while she is still alive, so 
everything will be in place when we have a successor, who might be less 
charismatic but would feel less pressured.” But running against a clock that 
she has meticulously divided into 86,400 seconds a day, Cheng Yen has always 
said there’s no retirement for her.
 Cheng Yen’s Ten Commandments

Words of wisdom for Tzu Chi disciples:



1. Do not kill

2. Do not steal

3. Do not fornicate

4. Do not lie

5. Do not drink alcohol

6. Do not smoke, use drugs or chew betel nuts

7. Do not gamble or speculate

8. Respect your parents and be moderate in speech and attitude

9. Follow the traffic regulations

10. Do not participate in politics or demonstrations


 

 

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