Fifty Years of Freedom

Portugal has emerged as an alluring destination in recent years, drawing in tourists, remote workers, and retirees seeking the charm of its landscapes. A blend of enticing factors such as tax incentives, Golden Visas, and its natural beauty has propelled Portugal into the spotlight. However, amidst its charm, there exists a historical narrative often left unspoken—the era spanning from 1926 to 1974, under the authoritarian rule of Antonio Salazar.

Today, April 25th, marks a significant milestone for Portugal, as it commemorates 50 years since the Carnation Revolution*, which dismantled Europe’s longest-standing Fascist regime (48 years), liberating Portugal and setting the stage for democracy.

I am once again engaged in exploring my grandfather's remarkable defiance against the Salazar regime in Portugal.

His legacy has left an indelible mark on my entire life. I earned a degree in Journalism [a profession I exercised for over a decade] and wrote my thesis on "The Evolution of the Portuguese Media since the Carnation Revolution of 1974."

Over the years, I have contemplated penning a piece that would honor his remarkable fight, perhaps even writing a book one day. However, life's twists and turns delayed this endeavor.

Recently, a strong urge to share his struggle resurfaced, fueled by the global resurgence of right-wing movements. The tipping point was the recent victory of the far-right group Chega [which means ‘enough’ in Portuguese] in Portugal's elections on March 10th. Witnessing this, I felt compelled to act, realizing that my grandfather's sacrifices shouldn't be forgotten nor the consequences a dictatorship brings to a country and its citizens.

Allow me to provide some background on my grandfather: while my grandfather actively participated in anti-dictatorship demonstrations, he shied away from seeking the limelight or assuming leadership roles within the resistance. He liked to be behind the scenes. So, he obtained a printing press.

"I wanted to enlighten people about the harsh realities plaguing our nation," he once confided. "The media was tightly controlled, with articles heavily censored. My mission was to inform, inform, inform."

His home became known as the "Music House**," not for any musical prowess he possessed, but because he would drown out the noise of the printing press—secretly tucked away in his house—by playing loud music while producing materials for dissemination through the resistance network.

This clandestine operation lasted three years until the inevitable day arrived when my grandfather's luck ran out. The PIDE, Portugal's notorious secret police during the Salazar regime, knocked on his door. Despite his resourcefulness in concealing the printing machine (twice), he was apprehended on June 28, 1950, at 6:30 am.

Subsequently, he endured six terrible years in three different prisons. During that time, he was subjected to brutal interrogation, torture, and prolonged solitary confinement at the hands of the PIDE. He was released on December 21, 1956, but had to report weekly to the local PIDE office until the revolution in 1974.

I was very young at the time of the Revolution and lived in Paris, where years before, my mother and her eldest sister had sought refuge after fleeing the oppressive regime. After the Revolution, along with my siblings, we started spending our summers in Portugal at the “Music House.” As I grew older, I cherished listening to my grandfather's captivating narratives, recounting his pride in arming individuals with knowledge through clandestine pamphlets. Despite enduring immense hardships during his time in captivity, he viewed it as an unconventional "University," enriched by the diverse array of individuals he encountered—from scholars to laborers, all political prisoners like himself.

I learned so much from him. But above all, he imparted upon me and my siblings the paramount importance of freedom. One evening, about ten years after the Revolution, my siblings and I laid on the grass in front of the “Music House,” gazing at the stars with my grandfather, a keen astronomer. That night, he was unusually quiet. Then, out of nowhere, he said: "You know, when a government strips you of your fundamental rights, of your autonomy, you cease to be a human being. You become a mere pawn in a dictator's cruel game. Never allow yourself to be that pawn." I went back to my room and jotted down his words. I was a teenager who wanted to carry those words with me forever.

?*As the Armed Forces (military) peacefully descended on the streets of Lisbon to end the Dictatorship, carnations were everyone. People started handing out carnations for the soldiers to put on their riffles, thus the name of the “Carnation Revolution.”

**The Music House is the working title I have picked for the book I am currently writing based on my grandfather’s life.