Eric Sautedé
In his first second-term policy address in March 2015, Mr Chui Sai On gave the assurance that consultative bodies would from now on be better regulated. The pledge was twofold: limit the number of consultant positions concurrently held by the same person to a maximum of three and limit the number of years of service in such positions to a maximum of six. A brand new team of Secretaries having been sworn in, the rationale was that if much needed and imaginative public policies were to be put in place, cells of resistance and possible conflicts of interest had to be subdued within these consultative bodies.
When things are decided by the happy few, consultation processes become a life-line. During an official ceremony marking the 65th anniversary of the Communist regime in September 2014, Mr Xi Jinping himself praised “consultative democracy” as China’s unique way of allowing the people to participate in governance. Even if the President’s understanding of democracy was clearly derived from Marxism-Leninism, his urge for a well-established feed-back mechanism coming from the masses was genuine.
In Macao, dozens of public consultations concerning all kinds of governmental decisions have been organised, with varying degrees of soundness, relevance and legitimacy, despite a thorough revamping of the rules in August 2011. Moreover, consultative bodies have mushroomed, totalling now 46 such institutionalised gatherings placed under the direct authority of either the Chief Executive or one of the five Secretaries. With 17 consultative bodies under him, the Secretary for Social Affairs and Culture tops them all. These organs do not hold any actual power, but their members do influence the decision-making processes and ultimately the policies themselves.
In mid-March, All About Macau, a liberal-minded Chinese newspaper, came up with the story proving that prominent businessman Paul Tse was actually sitting on more than three such bodies, contrary to Chui’s commitment. Then, the same online outlet published a list of 24 personalities sitting on at least three boards of public agencies and consultative committees. Paul Tse was listed with seven such positions and so was lawyer-turned-legislator Vong In Fai, who was also Mr Chui’s chief campaigner in 2014. Chui Sai Peng, the very own cousin of Mr Chui Sai On and also a legislator, appeared on the list as well, and his name appeared again in the headlines on April 11 when it was discovered that an association he is heading had received important public funding to publish textbooks without going through a public tender. Possible conflicts of interest come in many guises in Macao but often originate in business circles, the Legislative Assembly and these consultative bodies.
Ever since the unravelling of the Ao Man Long scandal, the prevention of corruption at the highest echelon has been advertised as a priority: Chui Sai On’s first “real” policy address in November 2010 was all about “sunshine government” and “scientific administration.” If the enduring results of the latter had been always seriously doubted, the former was somehow being given credence, at least until February this year: the arrest of former prosecutor-general Ho Chio Meng on charges of fraud and abuse of power is now casting a long shadow on the system as a whole.
A conflict of interest – a personal interest taking precedence over the community’s – does not equate with corruption, but in the words of the European Parliament it can be “considered an indicator, a precursor and a result of corruption.” When the secretary for Administration and Justice Sonia Chan asserts that there are less than ten personalities who participate in more than three consultative bodies and that this is being taken care of gradually, should we trust her, especially when the time spent in any given position is not even questioned? What about the issue of patronage? Indeed, the very same Chui Sai Peng sits on a staggering 143 boards of associations! And what about a standing committee member of the CPPCC sitting concurrently on boards of three universities in Macao?
The “small world” excuse is just that: an excuse. After all, the Athenian Democracy was designed for a city half the size of Macao.
Slight correction: it should be 47 consultative bodies and not 46, as I had forgotten to count the newly formed Urban Renewal Committee (in March), the one that actually triggered the probing into these organs (Paul Tse is a member…). See http://www.gov.mo/Comissoes/List.aspx for the complete list.