Tourist attractions in China also strive for such a holy grail. It's called a "World Heritage Site" listing and is granted by the United Nations Educational, Scientific and Cultural Organization, more commonly known as UNESCO. With a plaque bearing the title, the place will reap tourist yuan.

Just this week, it was announced that Mount Wutai has made the cut, becoming the 38th Chinese site so honored. On the other hand, Mount Songshan failed to get into the last round of competition, which means it'll be a few more years before it joins that exclusive club.

If I had a chance to console Shi Yongxin, abbot of Shaolin Temple, nestled in Mount Songshan, I'd tell him: "Don't be sad. That title means nothing to you. You already have everything the title can bring. Let the minor players duke it out for it."

A place is designated as a World Heritage Site, according to UNESCO, to protect its natural and cultural value. It implies it is "endangered" and should receive special care. In its promotional material, the World Heritage List is also called the "Danger List".

This has been interpreted by many local officials in China as "the list for development". I've visited more than half of China's sites on the list, some right before they got the title, some shortly after and others when the shouting had all died down. They all share one thing: Tourism takes off like a rocket with what UNESCO calls the "inscription".

The only other status-elevator that rivals this "inscription" is something inscribed by the emperor, in his own hand. If it existed but was destroyed by the fires of war or the passions of the "cultural revolution" (1966-76), it can be recreated. But you cannot make something like this up. It has to have a real historical basis.

The importance attached to having a UNESCO title is derived from the traditional Chinese notion of hierarchy. Each city has a list of places you have to see before you die, above that is the province list, then the national list of attractions. To top it off is the UN list, which will be at the top of the pyramid until such time as star ships launch seven-day tours of the solar system and beyond.

I have talked to many officials desperate to get on this bandwagon. "People here are very poor. They need something to lift them out of poverty. This place is landlocked. No investor would come. But if we are endorsed by the UN, tourists would come by planeloads and busloads and people can get rich quick by selling trinkets," they argue.

UNESCO does not forbid tourism. It requests that if tourism grows it does not do so at the expense of the ecosystem, which is fragile in the first place. Local officials also emphasize protection, but adopt a different approach: "We want to protect our heritage, but how can we go about it without money? And the best way to raise money is through tourism revenues." With money, they can persuade local residents to give up logging for cooking and heating. Local kids can ride the bus instead of walking for miles to get to school. Adults can get jobs as park workers.

While in Yunnan, I was once caught in the crossfire between a conservationist and a growth-first pragmatist. I was their mutual friend. They were debating the pros and cons of building dams along an important waterway. As you may have guessed it, the one who wanted to improve the lives of local citizens by developing local industry was born in a village near a dam, and the one who wanted to keep the pristine beauty of the land was from Beijing. Both were ardent, and both had valid points.

Theoretically there should be a balance between protection and development. In reality, few know where the fine line is. Tourism is touted as the "smokeless" industry that has numerous benefits and few drawbacks. If you apply some thought to the controversy, you'll find that conventional wisdom may not hold water. A few years ago, there was news of a developer who wanted to build a dragon-like structure along a mountain ridge. The public was appalled and the project was halted. Later a Shandong county got approval to build a mammoth city over a large swath of mountains, which it billed as the future "cultural capital of China". Again, the public response was predominantly critical. The sentiment was: Leave nature alone, don't add a human touch.

But when you tour Mount Wudang, it's the man-made structures that are hailed as the landmarks and highlights of a tour. With a few exceptions such as Jiuzhaigou, where nature alone is enough to be a selling point, most places sell because of the embellishments, rather than nature itself. And don't even think of citing the Great Wall. It was a white elephant that failed to fend off invaders and a major scratch on Earth's back.

A site usually has to demolish a lot of existing buildings to "restore the ecosystem". A county in Guizhou, which I visited a year before it got on the major-league list, razed cheap hotels, a school and many residential houses at a cost of tens of millions of yuan before it submitted the application. Sanqingshan, a new entry on the list, converted the hotels to dormitories for field workers.

I'm not defending the develop-at-all-cost camp. I'm just saying it's really hard to sit down and listen to all sides and then go about making the right decision. Local officials want to develop tourism. Of all the reasons at least one is noble - to help the people live a better life. Wrongly or not, they are using the UNESCO title as a free pass, while paying lip service to all the wonderful words embraced by environmental protectionists. Are they being hypocritical or is it the only choice they have?

If I had tens of millions to splurge, I wouldn't necessarily go for the prestige of a UNESCO listing. Instead, I would invite a bunch of writers from Lonely Planet, Fodor's and Frommer's, among other travel guides, and treat them to a good time at my place. Once I gain an entry into their books and possibly get a recommendation, foreign tourists will swarm in. Then China's own adventure seekers and active travelers will follow. Eventually the charter flights and tour buses will arrive, bringing in millions of customers of package deals.

That's why Mount Songshan and its Shaolin Temple do not need the extra help of UNESCO. They already have so many visitors and kungfu master wannabes that they are rolling in cash, shaved heads, sinewy torsos and all. As a matter of fact, Shi Yongxin, the abbot, is often addressed as "CEO".

I hereby advise that any place with a full quota of tourists should forfeit its chance for the glorious yet commercial title. Only places with residents under the poverty line need the UNESCO shot in the arm. Cachet? Who needs it when you have cash?