Just coming back to Macao from my summer break, I was greeted by both a typhoon 8 signal when I landed and then later on the usual Q&A session with Chief Executive Chui Sai On at the Legislative Assembly when I resumed work. Although unrelated, the synchronicity of the events—with a good 24 hours time lag—got me thinking: when does not much become something, and is there a deeper meaning to much ado about nothing?
As far as Typhoon Utor is concerned, caprices of nature are tricky to ascertain. Although there are always three clearly identified phases in the materialization of a typhoon, one can always expect the unexpected, as the Hong Kong film title goes. Before it hits, the air grows in density and an unusually serene kind of atmosphere settles in. Then comes the real thing, and depending on the course and strength of the typhoon, one is almost certain to witness strong swirls of wind and sudden passages of dense rain curtains. Finally, while the typhoon leaves, diminutive showers and lingering gusts are accompanied by the first assessments of the actual damage that was caused. As it is often the case with a signal 8 that equates to a “severe typhoon”, people viewing this for the first time and/or into apocalypse-type experience often get disappointed: social media in the past two days were brisking with derogatory comments about the actual potency of Utor. But precaution is of utmost importance in this kind of situation and the characterization of any given typhoon is a scientific function of the strength of the gusts and the closeness of the epicenter. One can always wonder whether it was hoisted too soon or lowered too late, this is not up to a rule of the thumb, whatever the cost for the economy. Basically, disappointment is a matter of perception not of reality.
Of course Chui Sai On’s own performance during a Q&A session at the Legislative Assembly seems quite remote from natural cataclysm forecast and appraisal, despite the claim that “political crafting” matters and that it is done under the auspices of “scientific governance” here. Mr Chui’s answers are indeed highly predictable and as one of my students nicely puts it: why call it an “engagement” with the members of the legislature if questions and answers are respectively sent and written beforehand, and ultimately read by the Chief Executive—and here I would myself add that the CE uninspiringly stumbles through tables of statistics in order to hide any sense of vision? In November, questions to the CE after the presentation of his policy address correspond to his duty as stated in the Macao Basic Law. Civil servants thus spend months preparing for questions that are not arranged beforehand, so that the CE can indeed look “executive”. In April and August, rules are different and the exercise is meant to temper worries (no duty there): right before a usually agitated May Day in spring and right at the closing of the legislative session in summer, and this year around just one month before the legislative elections. Bearing that in mind, I do believe that the Macao Government Information Bureau should have refrained from adding a passing comment on the referring webpage to watch Mr Chui’s live broadcast that the CE “attaches great importance to the interactions with the Legislative Assembly”: the wording sounds propaganda-like and the format is indeed a mockery of interaction.
Well, we are still in the Ghost Month (August 7 to September 4 this year) during which ghosts and spirits are roaming the realm of the living in search of souls. Offerings are meant to tame prowling spirits and it is indeed an ominous month to start any new venture!
Published in Macau Daily Times, August 16 2013
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