Kapok: Between Scylla and Charybdis

It is again that time of the year when the executive power in Macao is trying very hard to look accountable to the people: the Chief Executive (CE) solemnly and rather painfully delivers his policy address to the Assembly for the year to come, then takes questions, and subsequently the five secretaries, who make up his high-powered government, take the stage consecutively to further detail the action plan in their respective area.

This year, as usual, the exercise starts on November 15 and concludes on December 6—that is three full weeks! Now add the three to four months of preparation for that ordeal—at least on the side of the civil servants asked to work out the details that will allow their revered superior to address any possible Q&A—and you have a real measure of the supposed importance of the whole operation that has all the apparent characteristics of a government’s programme.

In pure theory, the CE should not have to do this: after all, he is elected neither by the people nor by the legislature. Given the actual structure of government, he is only accountable to the 400 members of the election committee that designates him—although on both occasions Mr Chui was “running” unopposed—and to the Central People’s Government that appoints him—in that respect, a much more demanding patron. But article 65 of the Macao Basic Law states that “the Government of the Macao Special Administrative Region” is “accountable to the Legislative Assembly of the Region” and that “it shall present regular policy addresses to the Assembly” and “answer questions raised by members of the Assembly”.

So here we are, without clear rational justification, listening to programmatic declarations that, for the most part, will either fail to materialise on time, fail to materialise properly or fail to materialise at all. Examples are numerous: social and economic housing, bridges, light rail transport, Coloane hospital, diversification of the economy, reform of the judicial system,  “scientific policy-making” and “sunshine government”, and of course a “gradual” establishment of “a democratic decision-making process” that was conceived, back in November 2010, as the pivotal condition to making fewer blunders and being resolutely less corrupt.

The show follows a very predictable script in which, among other things, business-oriented legislators lambast the unjustifiable increase in the number of civil servants, decried as contradicting the professed drive to streamline and rationalise public administration. Maybe so, but does anybody provide elements of comparison? The ratio of civil servants to the population or to the labour force is actually double what we find in Hong Kong and Singapore, respectively… And a good 34% of the civil servants are employed by the security forces in Macao!

Turning to the budget, vociferous critics denounce the prospective 12.6% increase in expenditure for the coming year at a time of economic slowdown, targeting again the ever expanding costs in personnel. Maybe, or maybe not—actually there should be more investments given the vast public reserves—but who cares? The very same legislators will vote the budget without any amendment; the very same legislators never request mid-term reports on the budget, and it is rather ironic that while the First permanent commission examines the 2017 law on public finance, it is the Third commission that reviews the execution of the past budget (2015). The left hand is not exactly aware of what the right one is doing, and what indeed matters for most lawmakers is whether or not they will get their fair share of uncompetitive public procurement—something not discussed openly in plenary sessions!

When Ng Kuok Cheong walks out of the chamber to protest against the response of the CE who considers that political development and universal suffrage are solely decided and initiated by Beijing, he is actually putting in crude light the very fact that neither the government nor most of the legislators can be trusted for things to really change. Small circles are ultimately vicious ones.

Published in Macau Daily Times, November 25, 2016

Kapok: The king is naked

Until the jaw-dropping election of Donald Trump on November 9, all the feverish political discussions I have had on and off-line for almost a month somehow revolved around the controversial oath-taking and its ensuing rejection of the Youngspiration pair of newly elected Hong Kong legislators, Yau Wai-ching and Baggio Leung. That was the talk of the day (and night), and even those who professed to be “bored” or simply annoyed could not help commenting, discussing, and arguing. On my own Facebook page, that gave rise to the longest exchange of comments and responses I had ever had—and mainly with two “Friends”!

The bigger the stake, the higher the level of engagement. The saga aspect of the whole story, with its almost perfectly choreographed traumatic scene—visible and audible—on October 12 and its ensuing twists and turns for almost a month, largely explains the riveting effect it has produced. Moreover, the responsibility of the sudden changes of wind has been rather evenly shared: if the young radicals were the trigger, the pro-establishment forces “voluntarily” chose an unusually buoyant counter-attack to prevent the retaking of the oath, regarding which pan-democrats, old and new, objected vehemently, both vocally and physically.

The atmosphere was not subdued anymore in the LegCo chamber, and fingers were pointed at one another. Furthermore, all three sources of power were embroiled in the situation: the legislature, with its somewhat democratic legitimacy, entrenched the controversy, challenged in less than a week by the executive, requesting a judicial review from the High Court to not only prevent the Youngspiration legislators to retake their oath but to do it for good and thus unseat them.

Unity in both camps was initially far from absolute: not everybody agreed with the rather provocative stance of Yau and Leung among the pan-democrats and some pro-establishment voices were not acting outraged yet and believed things could be settled with a slap on the wrist. The just sworn-in president of the LegCo, Andrew Leung, was himself originally in favour of giving the troublemakers a second chance. When the first whispers of a possible intervention by the central authorities started to be heard, Secretary for Justice Rimsky Yuen indicated that “the dispute […] should be resolved within the Hong Kong judicial system”. After much denial and confusing signs, the admission that an interpretation by the Standing Committee of the National People’s Congress (NPC) regarding oath-taking was in the tubes came from a long-time representative for Hong Kong in the NPC (herself already in Beijing), Maria Tam. And the government’s face was somehow salvaged by the revelation that the interpretation had been requested by the Chairman of the NPC, Zhang Dejiang.

When the interpretation was ultimately made public, what the Central authorities consider acceptable or not became more forceful, to the point where the “one country-two systems” principle was irremediably breached: not only does the interpretation venture into law-making by defining the penalties incurred by the “offenders”—thus going farther than the interpretation power—but also provides ample room for political manipulation (define “a manner which is not sincere or not solemn”…). Hence the 13,000-strong participants in the preventive demonstration organised on November 6 to expose a possible abuse of power and the silent march by the legal profession gathering 2,000 people on November 8 to denounce what Democratic Party founder Martin Lee has called “a tank crashing into the legal system”.

What is truly unacceptable for Beijing is thus the self-determination agenda of some radical young democrats, even though the irony is that there was no significant independence-leaning claim in Hong Kong until two years ago—the PRC under the leadership of Xi Jinping has therefore managed to accomplish in less than three years what the British could not do in 155! And to make matters worse, insult was added to injury, although one could debate the actual insulting load of the “People’s Refucking of Chee-na”. The target is a regime, and Chee-na or Shina is not derogative per se, but rather a challenge to the centrality of the “Middle Kingdom”. But in the end, patriots only deal with absolutes! 

Published in Macau Daily Times on November 11, 2016