Eric Sautedé
While coming back from Hong Kong yesterday, I stumbled upon an old acquaintance of mine, a man of venerable age, a man of the robe—a clerical one—and busy, still, with intellectual matters. After a brief personal recounting, he engaged me on the subject of recent events in Macao. Having to closely follow the nitty-gritty of our SAR’s buoyant political arena, I started painting a contrasting and yet lamentable picture of open-book conflicts of interests, blatant attacks on key principles of the Basic Law—especially when it comes to the separation of powers and the independence of justice—and gross irresponsibility regarding the greater good in a city that is endowed with first world revenues but flawed with third-rated services.
Having made a remark on the SAR’s problem of a lack of spine and principles, my friend observed that this was unfortunately “the reality of Macao,” and that despite all my energy and enthusiasm (not as fast eroding as some would like), not much would change, or at least not in the foreseeable future. I strongly disagree with that, and although I am a pragmatic (meaning not a dreamer) and certainly not pretentious enough to believe I can make a difference on my own—graveyards are full of indispensable men… and women—I sincerely believe that things can and should improve, whatever the context and culture. This is the human condition. When one of our dignified legislators states boisterously that patients cannot reasonably expect all to be cured when going to the hospital, he is basically saying that we cannot hope for better and that there should be no accountability system. Things are what they are because this is how they have always been: Doctor Sun Yat Sen, who was invited by Kiang Wu Hospital to practice Western medicine at the end of the nineteenth century, must be rolling over in his grave!
So no, “the difference is Macao” meaning “why bother?” is simply not for me, and I am truly convinced that those who have made this adage theirs have got their priorities wrong: survival—what kind of legacy is that?—is only a travesty of life. When a majority of politicians are businessmen, pragmatism always prevails over principles—this is true everywhere. The recent interview given by legislator Chan Chak Mo to newspaper Ponto Final is instructive in that respect. Asked why he didn’t pursue his drive to become a directly elected legislator, he simply replied that after an unsuccessful try, he could not resign himself to buying votes, and so he went for a functional seat as it was easier “to control supporting associations”—I would add: it’s even easier when there is only one candidate for one seat! Basically, for Mr Chan, the choice was between “corruption” and “co-optation”. And then, he admits seeing no problem in defending the interests of his constituents (a few dozens associations only): “I represent a sector, I speak for it, and of course speak for myself too.” This is something one can easily agree with, especially when the second standing committee over which he presides manages to delay stringent measures over smoking in public or the minimum wage. Mr Chan is an entrepreneur, the mind behind a big food and beverage consortium. The problem is that he is not backed by the business sector: he represents culture and sports! Does chasing away shops that promote Macau’s creative industries from a heritage building, only to replace them with a Forever 21 outlet, really qualify him? Or is it the horrid Food Festival?
As it is written in the Analects: “At fifteen my heart was set on learning; at thirty I stood firm; at forty I had no more doubts; at fifty I knew the will of heaven; at sixty my ear was obedient; at seventy I could follow my heart’s desire without overstepping the boundaries of what was right.” My old acquaintance is now 83, and thus what is valid for him is not necessarily so for me—a fact he fully acknowledged. And what is valid for politicians in their 60s is not necessarily so for citizens in their 30s. Maybe it is time to accept that fact!
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