Olho mágico: Dar sentido aos valores essenciais / Peephole: Giving meaning to core values

Ocasionalmente, a questão dos valores de uma dada sociedade inspira uma renovada reflexão e análise. Num ambiente democrático consolidado, é necessária habitualmente uma mudança profunda que toque a própria natureza da comunidade – por exemplo, a construção europeia ou questões relacionadas com a imigração – ou um evento traumático – o 11 de Setembro nos Estados Unidos ou o ataque contra o Charlie Hebdo em França – para que os valores, normalmente tidos por adquiridos, sejam novamente alvo de escrutínio: qual o verdadeiro significado desses valores? Mantêm-se válidos? Se mudaram, em que aspectos foram revistos? São essas mudanças desejáveis? Se não, o que é necessário para reafirmar os valores centrais da vida social?

Há debates de todos os géneros que fazem as manchetes e, ao fim de algum tempo, sucede uma espécie de síntese e a comunidade – Estado incluído – pode prosseguir com o seu sentido de pertença e integração revigorado. Se as autoridades públicas com frequência lideram na organização destas discussões, fazem-no ainda assim em “reacção” a uma transformação profunda ou a estímulo pungente. O que sucede então com o Governo chinês e o seu esforço incansável para promover “os valores socialistas essenciais”? Estes valores estão em risco ou há uma revolução silenciosa a acontecer? O que pretend dizer Lin Jianhua, o novo presidente da Universidade de Pequim, quando declara no seu discurso de tomada de posse, a 15 de Fevereiro, que os ideais individuais de professores e alunos devem ser consistentes com os “valores socialistas essenciais”, ao mesmo tempo que afirma que a universidade não deve vez alguma “abandonar a dignidade e a independência académica” e que esta deve zelar por “um ambiente académico que inspire ideias novas e criativas”?

A ideia de “valores socialistas essenciais” não é nova remonta a Outubro de 2006, quando o 16º Congresso do Partido Comunista Chinês propôs especificamente a construção de um sistema de valores socialista numa das suas reuniões plenárias. Hu Jintao, então Presidente e secretário-geral do partido, reiterou o mesmo propósito urgente poucos meses mais tarde, mas o Congresso que se seguiu acabaria por não conseguir produzir qualquer corpo coerente de princípios. Assim, a tarefa foi deixada ao Congresso seguinte, o 18º e que acolheu Xi Jinping como novo líder da China. Sem dúvida, existia a expectativa de que esses “valores essenciais” fossem novamente proclamados. Como esclarecidamente assinala Deng Yuwen, um académico independente chinês e antigo editor da “Study Times”, publicação académica da Escola do Partido Central, “havia uma necessidade de integração e reconhecimento social do regime” e o partido claramente sentiu “o risco na falta de um sistema principal de valores na sociedade”. De forma simples, após 30 anos de desenvolvimento económico, o socialismo de características chinesas exigiu dos seus promotores que premissem o botão de reconfigurações para reavivarem ideias básicas extraviadas na incessante e gloriosa ânsia de enriquecer, como Deng Xiaoping um dia apregoou alegremente. Para Deng Yuwen, a ausência de um sistema de valores convincente na China tem efectiva grande responsabilidade pela “actual prevalência da corrupção, pela decadência mental, pela ausência de fé, pela popularidade de todos os tipos de pornografia e por uma série de outros vergonhosos fenómenos”.

Enunciados de forma simples no final de 2013, e reproduzidos em todos os canais de propaganda do partido, estes “valores em 12 palavras” (a versão original chinesa é “em 24 caracteres”) são: prosperidade, democracia, civilidade e harmonia, a nível nacional; liberdade, igualdade, justiça e primado da lei, ao nível da sociedade; e patriotismo, dedicação, integridade e amizade, ao nível dos cidadãos. De forma bastante curiosa no que diz respeito a “valores socialistas essenciais”, as palavras “socialista” e “socialismo” já nem sequer aparecem. E assim, obviamente, é por completo abandonada a dimensão “internacional” do socialismo, enquanto o patriotismo deve ser cultivado pelos indivíduos. Estranhamente, a dedicação é elogiada mas não a cooperação, sendo que é suposto estes valores corrigirem os excessos do capitalismo. Claro que os especialistas da filosofia chinesa podem argumentar que alguns desses valores derivam mais obviamente da tradição confucionista do que do dogma socialista: a “harmonia” pode referir a harmonia na família, na nação, entre nações e com a natureza, reintroduzindo-se por esta via a dimensão “internacional”; e, da mesma forma, a “honestidade” pode corresponder à cooperação, como na honestidade e confiança que colocamos nas nossas relações com os outros.

Do meu ponto de vista, estes valores não são genuinamente “socialistas” e a maioria deles encaixar-se-ia perfeitamente num curso de educação cívica de qualquer democracia burguesa ocidental consolidada. Porém, apenas alguns meses antes de proclamar estes valores como essenciais, o partido emitiu também o relatório sobre “sete coisas das quais não se deve falar”, limpando a esfera pública de qualquer referência a valores universais, liberdade de expressão, sociedade civil, direitos civis, erros históricos do Partido Comunista Chinês, compadrio capitalista e independência judicial. Se as influências ocidentais são vistas como perigosas, por quê fazer delas “essências socialistas”? Recordando o presidente da Universidade de Pequim, é preciso lembramo-nos que Lin Jianhua foi durante dois anos e meio presidente da Universidade de Chongqing (2010-2013), numa altura em que, como afirma um colega sinólogo, essa instituição em particular era “um íman para académicos ‘de esquerda’”, aqueles que o antigo membro do politburo caído em desgraça Bo Xilai costumava atrair. Se os valores promovidos por Xi Jinping são “essenciais”, mantêm-se certamente esbatidos, se não contraditórios, tanto na intenção como no significado. E, se não reduzidos a três ou quatro valores cardeais, pelo menos deviam ser alvo de alguma priorização ou hierarquia.

Published in Match Point, 18 February 2015

And the original in English:

Every now and then, the question of values in a given society inflames renewed soul-searching probing. In a well-established democratic environment, it usually takes a far-reaching change touching upon the very nature of a community — i.e. the European construction or issues pertaining to immigration— or a traumatic event — September 11 in the United Sates or the attack against Charlie Hebdo in France — for values, usually considered as something given, to be scrutinized once more: what is the true meaning of these values? Are they still valid? If they have changed, in what respects have they been amended? Are these changes desirable? If not, what does it take to reassert the central values of a polity?

Debates of all sorts soon grab the headlines and after a while, some kind of synthesis emerges and the community — state included — can go on with a reinvigorated sense of bonding and belonging. If public authorities often take the lead in organizing the discussions, they nevertheless do so in “reaction” to a profound transformation and/or harrowing stimulus. What is happening then to the Chinese government and its relentless focus on the promotion of “core socialist values”? Are values under a sudden threat or is there a silent revolution at work? What does Lin Jianhua, the new president of Peking University mean when he declares during his inauguration speech on February 15th that the individual ideals of teachers and students should be consistent with the “core socialist values", while stating at the same time that a university should never “abandon academic independence and dignity’’ and safeguard “an academic environment [that] can inspire creative and innovative ideas”?

The idea of “core socialist values” is not new and dates back to October 2006, when the Sixteenth Party Congress specifically suggested building a socialist core value system during one of its plenary meeting. Hu Jintao, the then President and General secretary of the Communist Party of China, reiterated that urge a few months later, but then the following Congress was not able to produce any coherent body of tenets. So the task was left for the next Congress, the 18th one that ushered in Xi Jinping as the new ruler of China. No doubt, the longing for these “core values” to be proclaimed again did exist. As insightfully remarked by Deng Yuwen, an independent Chinese scholar and former editor of Study Times, a Central Party School's journal: “there was a need for social integration and recognition of the regime” and the Party clearly saw “the harm in the lack of mainstream values in society.” Simply put, after thirty years of economic development, Socialism with Chinese characteristics required its promoters to hit the reset button, to revive basic ideas that had gone ashtray with the almost non-stop glorious drive to get richer, as Deng Xiaoping had once trumpeted cheerfully. For Deng Yuwen, the lack of a convincing value system in China does indeed bear a huge responsibility in “the current spread of corruption, mental decadence, absence of faith, the popularity of all kinds of pornography and a series of other ugly phenomena.”

Simply enunciated at the end of 2013, and as reproduced in all the propaganda channels of the Party, these “values in 12 words” (the Chinese original says “in 24 characters”) are: prosperity, democracy, civility, and harmony at the national level; freedom, equality, justice and the rule of law at the level of the society; and patriotism, dedication, integrity, and friendship at the citizen’s level. Interestingly enough for “socialist core values”, the word “socialist” or “socialism” does not even appear anymore. And then, obviously, the “international” dimension of socialism has been abandoned altogether, whereas patriotism has to be cultivated by individuals. Strangely, dedication is praised but not cooperation, whereas these values are supposed to correct the excesses of capitalism. But then Chinese philosophy specialists can argue that some of these values are more obviously derived from the Confucian tradition, rather than any socialist dogma: “harmony” could refer to the harmony within the family, the nation, between nations, and with nature, and thus an “international” dimension would be reintroduced; and “honesty” could likewise equate with cooperation, as in the honesty and trust we place in our dealings with others.


From my own perspective, these values are simply not genuinely “socialist” and most of them would perfectly fit in a civic education course given in a long-established Western bourgeois democracy. However, just a few months before making these values core ones, the Party also issued the “seven speak-nots” report, cleansing the public sphere from any reference to universal values, freedom of speech, civil society, civil rights, the historical errors of the Communist Party of China, crony capitalism and judicial independence. If Western influences are seen as dangerous, why make some of them “core socialist” ones? Going back to the new president of Peking University, one has to remember that Lin Jianhua spent two years and a half as the president of Chongqing University (2010-2013), at a time, as one fellow sinologist puts it, when that particular establishment “was a magnet for ‘red’ academics”, the ones disgraced politburo member Bo Xilai used to attract. If the values promoted by Xi are “core”, for sure they still remain pretty blurred if not contradictory in both intent and meaning, and if not trim down to a cardinal three or four, at least they should be given some sense of priority and hierarchy.

Kapok: is that normal?

One thing is certain: it is indeed pervasive! And it is meant to be so! It has almost become a mantra, one that everybody repeats in all circumstances, as if it could clearly identify, accurately characterize, precisely define, and ultimately allow us to anticipate, not to say predict, what was to come, for each and every situation, whatever the focus, regardless of the topic under discussion. What is that magic formula? What is that epitome of clear and unmediated understanding?

Taxis have stopped fishing on the fringe of casinos, are routinely queuing outside the ferry terminals and the airport, and have stopped overcharging and have started to provide the service that was rightly expected of them: this is the new normal. A new line up of secretaries have started to tackle public policy issues head-on; they are proving competent, reactive and swift in their approach to policy making: this is the new normal. The economy is slowing down, and yet with the ambition (under serious pressure) to become more diversified and sustainable: this is the new normal. The ongoing fight against the corruption of “flies”, “tigers” and “foxes” alike on the other side of the Portas do Cerco and beyond is the driving force of that decline in revenues and profits of the gaming industry: this is the new normal. Gaming stock prices are in correction mode and the prospects for a rebound in the mid-term — let’s exclude Chinese New Year and the new openings — have become bleak, to say the least: this is the new normal.

Gaming analysts and bankers, be they American, Australian, German, Swiss, Japanese or British abusively resort to the expression. Journalists are no exception either, and despite the lack of metaphoric beauty of the wording, they find it far more palatable and overall purposeful than the more cryptic “China dream”. Even scholars — some more than others — relish the evocative power of the formula: on January 22nd, the Center for Macau Studies of the University of Macau organized an entire forum bringing together 11 distinguished academics to discuss “Macao and China’s economy new normal”. And then of course, Xinhua, the China Daily, the People’s Daily, the Wen Wei Po or our own Macao Daily News abound in titles and op-eds adorned with this prescriptive depiction.

But where does that “new normal” — what I perceive as a rebranded “society of moderate prosperity” on steroids — come from? In Chinese, the expression xin changtai 新常态 was first used to characterize China’s economy today in a speech given by Xi Jinping at the occasion of the Central Economic Work Conference in May 2014. What are now branded as “hot words” by the news website of the Communist Party of China itself were meant to describe the “big logic” at work behind the credo of a new national economic policy. And this new economic rational was to “endure and accept the economic slowdown”, “resolutely face the contradictions of the industrial structure”, “level up the govern- ment’s objective knowledge and rationality in the development of the economy and the society”, “display self-confidence in providing serene answers”, while at the same time “acknowledging that this new normal requires good preparation and a mature approach to succeed”.

Mind you, I am not saying that this “new normal” is not doing us good, even though some of the more immediate and bankable benefits seem to suffer in the process. Diversification? If not a chimera, it was definitely a distant dream — Chinese, but distant. More transparency in the gaming operations? Uh? Good faith and accountability on the side of all the stakeholders? Uh-uh? The question remains though: if that’s an imperative, what will it really take to make it both achievable and sustainable in the short-term?

Published in Macau Daily Times on February 13th 2015

Kapok: Everything in style

This is an ancient dilemma: which one should prevail, substance over form or the opposite? For a very long time substance was always the one considered to be the most important. Getting an education used to mean being “elevated” by the teaching of the classics, and that knowledge was provided through the tedious study of the original texts, the teacher acting as the sole guarantor of compliance. In France, today still, primary and secondary students are called “élèves”, the ones being elevated—students have to make the extra effort to reach the teacher’s level. Up to the early years of the twentieth century in China, imperial exams were based on the perfect recitation of the Confucian classics and the complete subjugation to extremely formal literary styles—writing poetry usually came later, either after having fallen from grace or resigning from the civil service. In business, because of the industrial nature of our societies, the quality of the product used to be everything: the longevity of goods, for example, was the decisive testimony of engineering prowess. Stockings for women were meant to resist the hardship of any labor in the 1950s still, even while working the fields!
Things have changed, and not only because more than half of the world’s population is now living in urban areas. With the advent of mass education in the 1960s, the challenge has been to get a majority of the community up to a given level, and to a certain extent—the battle is not over—form prevailed: student-centered education became imperative, and what was to be taught became second to what had been learnt. For sure, the “middleisation” of society has had its virtues and benefits. With the advent of a consumerist society, the marketing and packaging of merchandise came to play a dominant role. Durability was no longer the crux of the matter: products were to be enticing and pushed to shoppers in order for consuming-cycles to be reduced. Quite a significant number of sophisticated goods, because of fast technological advance, are today meant to be renewed on a yearly basis—think iPhone 6, oops! Sorry, the 6S is already out! But then, you would be branded an environmental criminal if you had kept your car or your washing machine from 10 years ago! Ultimately—and this is true wisdom—one has to find a balance.
In politics, things are not much different, and Macao is of course no stranger to the need of striking a balance between form and substance. Take the misogynistic and phallocratic outbursts of legislator Fong Chi Keong who publicly advocates a good beating for spouses who talk back to their husbands: this is both unprincipled and devoid of any underpinning. If you add to that the flowery language, the burlesque act and the gravelly voice, not much form is left either, unless you consider crudeness as a proper stylish demeanor for a representative of the highest authority. Then, take our new secretary for Social Affairs and Culture, Alexis Tam. What a change! Superman Tam, as he is often referred to, is not only a workaholic but also an avid communicator. Interviews are given to the Portuguese press—in Portuguese—, and mind you, for the first time ever, All About Macao, one of the few Chinese-speaking liberal newspapers in town, got to be graced with a one-on-one interview. Short-term measures for both healthcare and education are already being announced, more than two months prior to the policy address. A vision is given for the next five years: could that be the end of short-termism? And then, City of Dreams gets to nag the Health Bureau over smoking areas at a time when the government is reviewing the tobacco control rules: the bureau’s director, under Mr Tam’s benevolent gaze, immediately announces that fines could soon become really deterring—how many times the MOP$100,000 already imposed? Chui Sai On himself could weigh in: after all, he can decide to simply terminate the smoking sections for repeat offenders. Well, everything is possible, even taxis have stopped fishing… That makes us look good!

Published in Macau Daily Times on January 30th 2015