“When we talk about bilingualism, we are talking about Portuguese in the context of a city where the dominant language is Chinese,” summarizes Miguel de Senna Fernandes, who points out several consequences for the language’s legal, political, and social status. On the one hand, “if it’s not used, it ceases to be official.” On the other, it holds a “strategic” value for “China to develop relations with Portuguese-speaking countries” and an “identity-shaping” value in a historical and cultural sense.
Calvin Chui learned Portuguese “out of necessity”; he studied law in Portugal, which provided him with a “deeper understanding of legal codes.” He acquired the language from an “economic perspective,” which is why he praises scholarships offered to students wishing to study in Portugal. “I don’t know if they are as effective as before, but they are very important.”
Senna Fernandes considers Chui a “good example; he lives the language because he needs to,” and proof of the scholarship policies implemented by the government. However, “bilingualism is much more than that.” The platform, he argues, “shows that the MSAR doesn’t want a simplistic vision; it wants citizens who live the language and are aware of Portuguese as Macau’s own language.” For Senna Fernandes, “the only practical and viable vision is to assume that Portuguese doesn’t come from Portugal, Brazil, or Africa; it has always been spoken in Macau, and we must embrace that linguistic past.”
Bilingualism is enshrined in the Basic Law; therefore, “we must respect that rule and promote Portuguese as an official language,” comments Calvin Chui. In this sense, “its daily use in courts, the civil service, and schools… should be encouraged.” However, “it cannot be imposed,” he cautions, pointing to the other side of the equation: “The Portuguese should also learn Chinese; respect has to be mutual.”
“Absolutely Necessary”
English may be “cooler,” more appealing to generations immersed in the digital world, but in Macau, Portuguese is “strategic,” insists Senna Fernandes, addressing different dimensions. “When we talk about the platform, it’s a political-economic instrument, a state-to-state tool. Does it resonate with civil society? No! We don’t feel it in our daily lives, but on an official level, it’s absolutely necessary; otherwise, we’re in trouble! We won’t communicate in English with Portuguese-speaking countries.”
Senna Fernandes agrees with Chui’s argument that “it cannot be imposed” but defends that “Portuguese must be embraced as Macau’s language. Cultural shifts take time, but we’ve been here for centuries; we’ve waited this long… and the MSAR has everything to gain,” he concludes.
Learning Portuguese “is not easy”; both agree on this. Yet, “an increasing number of citizens of Chinese ethnicity speak Portuguese.” Calvin Chui points out that the Education and Youth Development Bureau (DSEJ) provides subsidies to schools that include Portuguese as a subject, which he sees as “positive because it increases the attractiveness of teaching and learning.” He envisions the process in three stages: “First, getting to know the language; then using it; later realizing that its value is not only economic but also cultural and human. At that point, learners deepen their understanding and want to share it with others.”
Senna Fernandes calls for greater official commitment: “It’s one thing to have money; it’s another to show political will—and that’s lacking. I’m not sure if it’s due to past stigmas—I don’t want to go down that path—but there has always been an obstacle; whenever Portuguese is involved, something seems to stall.” He believes that “the MSAR can do much more,” and if “there are any complexes, they need to be shed entirely,” creating “social models” for the language’s use. “I won’t use the word ‘hero,’ but references are very important. Something deeper needs to be created; we need to open our eyes and go beyond academic programs—it’s much more than sending everyone to study in Portugal.”
“Promote—Not Impose”
Calvin Chui has, at times, considered the hypothetical imposition of bilingualism but, “on further thought,” prefers a “soft, indirect approach that is better accepted by the population.” Senna Fernandes agrees, leaning towards meaningful incentives: “Those who prove their proficiency in both Chinese and Portuguese and wish to settle in Macau could be awarded an extra point” in the residency rights assessment, or even in access to public service positions. “As long as it doesn’t disadvantage those who don’t speak Portuguese, the discussion is about how to encourage more people to speak Portuguese—those who don’t speak it must still be respected.”
History, Senna Fernandes emphasizes, “must be part of this identity.” He critiques the overuse of clichés like old buildings, pastel de nata, and other Portuguese symbols. “And the language—can’t it be identity-shaping? It’s perfectly possible for the MSAR to embrace it as its own,” he concludes.
Calvin Chui appreciated seeing the future Chief Executive respond to Portuguese journalists “first in Portuguese, and then, out of respect for the majority population, in Chinese.” This, he says, is a “good sign”; given that Sam Hou Fai learned Portuguese in Coimbra, “he may have a tendency to promote bilingualism more.” Regarding the learning of Chinese by the resident Portuguese community, Senna Fernandes suggests overcoming the challenges posed by an ideographic language through oral practice: “We Macanese learned to speak Cantonese without knowing how to write; the writing came later. But the fact that we spoke made things much simpler.”
