The democratic movement in Macau is still incipient and lacking leadership. But in recent years the voice of the youth in the former Portuguese enclave has become louder. Observers and experts say Macau’s political evolution will depend a lot on the path Hong Kong takes

Same, same, but different

Macau and Hong Kong are special places, quite literally. As the country's only Special Administrative Regions, both are political constructs of the late paramount leader of China, Deng Xiaoping, the man credited with popping the cork on capitalism in the world's last, nominally Communist behemoth, the People's Republic of China.

But the similarity ends there.

Quiet and slow, but with a touch of mystery, Macau was traditionally seen as a sleepy backwater in the shadow of a sophisticated and fast-paced Hong Kong.

While Deng’s “one country, two systems” produced strikingly similar mini-constitutions or “Basic Laws” for Macau and Hong Kong, political development has followed very different paths.

Following the handover - in 1997 for Hong Hong and two years later for Macau - the dissatisfaction against the central government has been louder in Hong Kong, and its echoes are increasingly reverberating in its sister SAR.

2014 was an eventful year for both regions in the Pearl River Delta. In May, the biggest demonstration in Macau since the handover took place. About 20,000 people staged a protest against a bill that would have given the city’s top officials lavish retirement packages. Under public pressure, the government withdrew the plan.

In October, the Occupy movement took over Hong Kong’s streets, and acts of solidarity were held in Macau. The protests in the former British colony lasted three months.

The pro-democracy movement in Macau has involved a growing number of youths eager to speak out, but it has had little impact. Shy and traditional compared to Hong Kong, Macau is often dubbed the “well-behaved SAR”, or special administrative region, and dependent on its elder sister’s decisions to plot its own course.

Sonny Lo Shiu-hing, professor and head of the department of social sciences at the Hong Kong Institute of Education, notes the “Macau population has been influenced by Hong Kong-style of political criticism and discourse” both through traditional media and the internet.

In general, “Hong Kong people are far more politically active and aware”, he says. “But in recent years, the youth of both regions are increasingly more assertive.”

Lately, Macau citizens have taken to the streets more often than in previous decades, with many of the protests fuelled by social media and filled with young faces. Over the past few years, several new civil organisations – championing universal suffrage and freedom of speech – have been launched.

Compared to Hong Kong, Lo notes that Macau lags behind in terms of political engagement because its “political system is more conservative and far less democratic – it’s still very monolithic”.

“The big forces and pro-government forces remain very dominant” in Macau, he notes.

Weng Kei-to, 23, who works as a tutor at a social service agency, is one of those who have taken to the streets. She says that she started taking an interest in politics and social issues as a secondary student, after reading the articles of the Chinese journalist Xu Zhiyuan, author of the essays’ book Paper Tiger.

Weng disagrees with the idea that people in Macau are unaware of the region’s political challenges.

“I don’t think that Macau residents do not care about politics. However, we have less media outlets than Hong Kong,” she says. “And Macau residents are also less outspoken. We prefer to discuss issues privately. That's why we seem less engaged.”

Although technology has helped people share ideas and organise protests, she doesn’t believe that democracy will come any time soon. “The structure of government is very static and the legislative council does not work as a representative of Macau residents,” Weng says. “I hope this situation changes as soon as possible, but I have no idea when that will be possible.”

A mild political reform, which included an increase from 300 to 400 members of the chief executive’s electoral college, as well as two additional seats for directly and indirectly elected lawmakers, was approved in June 2012.

In the 2013 legislative elections, Macau residents voted for 14 out of the 33 lawmakers. Twelve, who represent different professional sectors, were indirectly elected by associations. Seven other lawmakers were appointed by the chief executive.

The Executive Council members were chosen by Fernando Chui Sai-on, who was re-elected for another five-year term last year by a 400-member committee, which is in turn elected by representatives of associations.

Lo, author of the book Political Change in Macau, says Macau will not be seen as a threat to Beijing as long as the current system remains in place. “Its atmosphere is relatively tighter,” he says. “Even though Macau’s civil society is growing, and there are similar characteristics to Hong Kong’s counterparts – they don’t have enough power to reduce the Macau government’s influence.”

The swift neutralisation by security forces of an attempt to organise an Occupy-style referendum in Macau in August 2014 is a proof of that, Lo notes. Jason Chao Teng-hei, who has been one of the most vocal activists in Macau over the past few years, was arrested with four others.

Jason Chao

Chao is suspected of aggravated disobedience for failing to comply with a government order to stop the referendum. He has yet to be charged. According to the government, Chao also allegedly violated the personal data protection legislation, as voters were asked to provide their phone and ID card numbers.

Among 8,688 people, who cast votes in the 2014 ballot organised by three pro-democracy groups, 7,762 Macau residents (89 per cent) said they had no confidence in the sole candidate Fernando Chui Sai-on for chief executive, and 8,259 voters (95 per cent) were in favour of universal suffrage for the 2019 election.

The decisive moment

Eilo Yu Wing-yat, an associate professor in the University of Macau’s department of government and public administration, says the lack of political engagement in the city compared to Hong Kong also has to do with the region’s financial growth. “Macau is still enjoying the economical miracle, so people are not interested in pushing the political reform,” he notes.

However, elections for Hong Kong’s chief executive in 2017 could change Macau’s political equation. “When the ‘big brother’ gets direct elections, it will stimulate the younger brother,” says Lo. “Macau will have to catch up. Otherwise the discrepancy within the principle ‘one country, two systems’ is too big.”

The next elections for the chief executive in Macau are scheduled for 2019.

Political reform in Macau could go in two directions, says Yu: the extension of the current election committee that chooses the chief executive, or the style previously proposed by Beijing to Hong Kong, which involves two or three candidates being selected by a nominating committee and only afterwards being voted on by the people.

That recommendation by Beijing, enshrined in a Hong Kong political reform proposal, was rejected by the territory’s legislature on June 18 this year. The method of election for the chief executive in 2017 remains unchanged, as the Legislative Council did not approve the proposal put forth by the Hong Kong government, which probably means that direct elections for the chief executives of both regions could be a long way off.

In Macau, the discussion has been rather mild in comparison. The longest serving pro-democracy lawmakers, Ng Kuok-cheong and Au Kam-san, who have called for political reform, said they would accept a government proposal similar to the one that was suggested for Hong Kong.

Observers say that in spite of the increasing number of dissonant voices, the democratic movement in Macau is still less assertive than Hong Kong’s. “The democrats have run for the legislative assembly for two decades, but the strategy doesn’t seem to be too aggressive,” Yu notes.

Although he says “the movement is emerging”, pro-democracy lawmakers were the biggest losers in the 2013 legislative elections. They gained only two seats, failing to keep three lawmakers in the legislative assembly. The poor showing was probably a result of fragmentation of the biggest pan-democratic organisation, the New Macau Association.

Although both factions aspire to see Macau have universal suffrage, a conservative fringe has strongly advocated the protection of local labourers, directing harsh words against imported ones, while a younger and more tolerant faction has mostly championed human rights and gender equality.

“Macau’s young people are not as radical as Hong Kong youths. But both have a different and stronger political culture compared with the older generations,” says Hong Kong professor Lo.

Scholar Yu also notes Macau’s youth are “quite progressive”. He says that although they lack theoretical knowledge about democracy, they have shown interest in political reform and in scrutinising the government’s wrongdoings.

Weng is an example of that. “I think there are more young people in Macau discussing politics. We want a change and we don't want to be labelled politically apathetic,” she says.

If the government makes any political mistakes, Yu warns, more protests will take place in Macau. “The trust between the government and the population is weak. If there’s a mistake, the mobilisation we’ve seen before will come back quickly.”