[1926 - 1974] Estado Novo Authoritarian Regime

For nearly half a century, from 1926 to 1974, Portugal seemed to exist in a bubble, suspended in time while the rest of Europe convulsed with change. This was the era of the *Estado Novo*, the “New State,” an authoritarian regime that promised order and delivered a long, quiet, and profound stagnation. It began, as these things often do, in chaos. The First Portuguese Republic (1910-1926) was a whirlwind of political instability—45 different governments in just 16 years. The country was bankrupt, its people exhausted. So, when the military seized power in a coup on the 28th of May, 1926, many Portuguese breathed a sigh of relief. They yearned for a firm hand to steady the ship. That hand belonged to a man who, at first, seemed an unlikely dictator: António de Oliveira Salazar. He was not a charismatic general or a fiery orator. He was a quiet, austere professor of economics from the ancient University of Coimbra. Appointed Finance Minister in 1928, he performed what was hailed as a fiscal miracle, balancing the national budget for the first time in memory. The public was captivated. Here was a man of discipline, of intellect, a saviour. By 1932, he was Prime Minister, and the New State was formally born. Salazar’s vision was one of conservative, Catholic nationalism. He despised communism, liberalism, and democracy, which he saw as sources of division and chaos. His ideal Portugal was a rural, traditionalist family, obedient to the father figure—himself. The state's motto was simple and powerful: *Deus, Pátria e Família* (God, Fatherland, and Family). To maintain this vision, life was managed by a simple, unwritten code, often called the “Three Fs”: *Fátima, Fado, e Futebol*. *Fátima* represented the Catholic Church, which was restored to a position of immense influence. Religion preached submission, tradition, and the acceptance of one’s place in the social order. The state heavily promoted the Miracle of Fátima, turning it into a cornerstone of national identity. *Fado* was the soul-stirring music of Lisbon, songs steeped in *saudade*—a deep, melancholic longing. It was a culture of beautiful resignation, of accepting fate rather than fighting it. While the regime didn't invent Fado, its fatalistic themes suited a populace encouraged not to question, but to endure. And *Futebol*—football—was the great distraction. On Sunday, the nation’s passions were channeled not into politics, but onto the pitch, celebrating heroes like Eusébio, the “Black Panther,” who brought glory to Benfica and to Portugal. Behind this carefully constructed façade of tranquil order lay an iron fist. Any whisper of dissent was silenced by the *Polícia de Vigilância e Defesa do Estado*, or PIDE. This was the secret police, and their reach was legendary. They were not just men in trench coats; they were the baker, the neighbour, the postman. A careless word in a café could lead to a late-night knock on the door. Thousands were arrested, tortured in infamous prisons like Peniche and Caxias, or simply disappeared. Censorship, known as the *Lápis Azul* (the Blue Pencil), gutted newspapers, books, and films of any subversive ideas, leaving behind a bland, state-approved reality. Daily life for most Portuguese was humble and unchanging. While Salazar built impressive public works—bridges, dams, and schools in a stark, monumental style known as *Português Suave*—the progress was shallow. The Ponte Salazar, a grand suspension bridge across the Tagus River in Lisbon, was a symbol of modernity, yet by the 1960s, Portugal remained one of Western Europe’s poorest nations. Literacy rates were appallingly low, with the regime aiming only for basic reading and writing, enough to be a good worker but not enough to foster critical thought. Infant mortality was the highest in Western Europe. While Paris, London, and Rome were exploding with the youth culture of the 1960s, Portugal remained a conservative backwater. Women were expected to be modest wives and mothers, their legal rights severely curtailed. Clothing was conservative; the miniskirt was a scandal. For many, the only escape was to leave. Between 1960 and 1974, over 1.5 million Portuguese—more than 15% of the population—emigrated in search of work and freedom in France, Germany, or the Americas. The beginning of the end for the Estado Novo was not fought in the streets of Lisbon, but in the jungles and savannas of Africa. Salazar clung desperately to Portugal’s “overseas provinces”—Angola, Mozambique, and Guinea-Bissau—as essential to its national pride and economic survival. Starting in 1961, brutal and costly colonial wars erupted on three fronts. The conflict consumed nearly half the state budget and forced tens of thousands of young men into a seemingly endless fight. The dream of a peaceful, ordered empire was bleeding out, thousands of miles from home. In 1968, the architect of this long slumber met a bizarrely mundane end. Salazar, then 79, fell from a deck chair at his summer residence, suffering a cerebral hemorrhage. He was quietly replaced by his chosen successor, Marcelo Caetano, while for two years, the incapacitated Salazar was allowed to believe he was still ruling. Caetano promised a “liberalizing spring,” a slight relaxation of the regime’s grip. But it was too little, too late. The colonial wars raged on, draining the nation’s will. The army, filled with young officers radicalized by the futility of the wars, had seen enough. The signal came just after midnight on April 25, 1974. A banned song, “Grândola, Vila Morena,” was played on the radio. It was the go-ahead for a military coup. Tanks rolled into Lisbon, not to crush the people, but to liberate them. Citizens flooded the streets, cheering the soldiers. A flower seller began placing red carnations into the muzzles of the soldiers' rifles and on their uniforms. The image was electric. The longest authoritarian regime in Western Europe was toppling, not in a bloodbath, but in a largely peaceful uprising that would forever be known as the Carnation Revolution. After 48 years of silence, Portugal was finally waking up.