In this short piece, Forsythe explores the mixed feelings of commoners toward Macao’s repatriation to China.

Mike Forsythe, a former executive editor of Harvard Asia Quarterly, is now a correspondent for Kyodo News in Beijing.

Abstract: In this short piece, Forsythe explores the mixed feelings of commoners toward Macao’s repatriation to China.

"Warmly Welcoming Macao’s Regression" reads the carelessly translated candy wrapper. The Chinese characters for "return," hui gui, are also used to describe the statistical concept of regression. As the final seconds of Portuguese rule over the tiny South China enclave melted away Sunday night, the scene in Beijing’s Tiananmen Square made the unintentional pun seem especially apt.

A long stream of banner-toting official participants solemnly filed into the square even as the boisterous unofficial spectators, braving the bitterly cold North China winter, were steadily driven back by soldiers and policemen. Tiananmen Square, symbolic center of the Chinese nation and site of countless rallies planned and unplanned throughout the history of the People’s Republic of China, was off limits to the very people who could lend the ceremony an air of authenticity.

"This wouldn’t happen in your country," noted a disappointed father.

To be fair, the soldiers were far from rough, revealing through their awkward smiles the fact that they were not entirely comfortable with their assignment. The mischievous crowd tried every method to avoid the gauntlet, but to no avail. Every back street and pedestrian underpass were covered by security personnel.

One soldier bore a striking resemblance to Lei Feng, the legendary PLA (People’s Liberation Army) figure who embodies selfless love for common people through self-sacrifice. "Lei Feng would have let us into the square," quipped another onlooker within earshot of the soldier in question.

The reason for the tight security was no mystery. Tiananmen Square has recently been the site of unprecedented activity by supporters of the banned spiritual group Falun Gong. Falun Gong supporters had threatened to make their presence felt at official ceremonies in Macao, and Beijing security forces were taking no chances. "The government wants to avoid chaos," observed a cab driver.

While most Beijingers wisely viewed the festivities within the warm confines of their homes, the hundreds who ventured out into the 15F weather to witness the midnight handover were proof that many people had no need for an official invitation to feel compelled to express their patriotism. While China’s President Jiang Zemin lead an official delegation far to the south in Macao, China’s major cities all held special activities to commemorate the historic handover, which marked the end of over four hundred years of European colonial presence in China. Next to the Macanese ceremony, Beijing’s was arguably the most elaborate.

"Watching the event on TV just isn’t the same," remarked a thirty-something software salesman whose breath reeked of sorghum liquor. His sentiments were echoed by a group of art students from the coastal city of Yantai, who joked that perhaps the crowd could use Santa’s flying reindeer to jump the police line.

Indeed, the Christmas holiday, increasingly popular in this officially atheist country, has been creatively tied in to the Macao festivities. Commemorative Santa hats emblazoned with the new Macao Special Administrative Region flag are available in Beijing stores.

As the official festivities began, Tiananmen Square, the world’s largest, had room to spare. The thirty thousand official participants and spectators could easily have made way for tens of thousands of their compatriots, who could be kept at a respectful but still intimate distance from the canned festivities. The fact that the central government sees fit to restrain even the most genuine expressions of patriotism symbolizes the wide gap between Party and the people. The Beijing Government, so keen to portray itself as the symbol of Chinese nationalism, did itself no service on Sunday night.