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The Carnation Revolution and the Struggle to End
Authoritarianism
By lynmiller-lachmann on 2018-04-25 12:10:46
[caption id="attachment_8523" align="alignright" width="217"] A reconstructed isolation
cell under the dictatorship. The government destroyed the original cells after closing the prison in 1965.[/caption] I had
planned to write a different blog post today, but, running late, I saw that today is the 44th anniversary of the Carnation
Revolution in Portugal, the event that ended 48 years of a repressive dictatorship. Four years ago, I had the privilege of
covering the 40th anniversary, and since then, the Carnation Revolution has loomed larger in my thinking as more and more
countries slide into authoritarianism, including our own. The European Union, which imposed a crushing austerity on
Portugal and other less wealthy countries during the fiscal crisis of 2008, has so far failed to respond to the elimination of
checks and balances, the curtailment of civil rights and liberties, and the assault on the rule of law in member nations
Hungary and Poland. Democracy depends on the willingness of leaders to obey both written law and unwritten norms, and
on the people to stand up for free and fair elections and fair treatment of minorities within the nation -- if only because one
day they may find themselves in the minority or on the bottom due to sheer bad luck. Once democracy is lost, it is difficult
to get back. It's better not to lose democracy in the first place. This is Portugal's story of struggle and eventual triumph,
looking back 40 years afterward: [caption id="attachment_11137" align="alignleft" width="300"]
Listening to speeches where the dictator surrendered 40 years earlier.
[/caption] One of my main reasons for coming to Portugal this month was to witness and celebrate the 40th anniversary of
the Carnation Revolution that toppled the country’s fascist dictatorship on April 25, 1974. The 40th anniversary is especially
significant because its probably be the last time the major participants in the revolution will still be alive to tell their stories
of that remarkable day. It began in the predawn hours when troops of the MFA (Armed Forces Movement) led by Captain
Fernando José Salgueiro Maia occupied the Ribeira das Naus and the Terreiro do Pago along the riverbank and ultimately
convinced forces loyal to the government to join them. Within hours, ordinary people flooded into the streets and placed
carnations in the rifles of the rebel soldiers, showing that their guns would no longer be used against the people. Following
a tense afternoon standoff, the fascist government of Marcelo Caetano, successor to notorious despot Antonio de Oliveira
Salazar, surrendered at the headquarters of the Guardia Nacional. The following day, April 26, the civilian pro-democracy
leaders returned from exile. [caption id="attachment_11138" align="alignright" width="300"]
The concert at the Assembly of the Republic in honor of revolutionary
musician Zeca Afonso.[/caption] A/ready, two of the principal heroes of the revolution are no longer with us. Captain
Salgueiro Maia died of cancer in 1992 at the age of 47. And José “Zeca” Afonso, the popular musician who composed the
revolutionary anthem “Grandola Vila Morena” died in 1987 at the age of 57 after a five-year battle with ALS. Tributes to
both Salgueiro Maia and Zeca abounded during this anniversary celebration. On Thursday evening, April 24, I attended a
concert at the Assembly of the Republic building that featured Zeca’s music. A sign outside announced that the concert
would be filmed for RTP2, one of the national TV channels. Looking through the program, I noticed that many of the
performers were themselves members of that legislative body, among them, on Portuguese guitar and rhythm guitar, the
deputy Nuno Encarnacao, who also wrote an eloquent tribute to Zeca. I never thought I’d ever see members of a national
legislature publicly performing the songs of a revolutionary folk singer. However, these legislators owe their positions in
large part to this revolutionary folk singer who sacrificed much for the cause of democracy. Dictatorships don t need
legislatures. Or if legislatures do exist, as in Portugal under fascism, they’re handpicked by the rulers and serve as rubber
stamps rather than as voices for the people. Additionally, there is a long tradition in Portugal of non-professional musicians
performing in fado clubs, and many of those neighborhood singers and instrumentalists are quite good. So were the
performers of Zeca songs at the Assembly. The one downside of the concert being filmed for television, with us as the
studio audience, is that when someone messed up, such as the announcer, the section had to be repeated. And we got to see
the backstage crew fix her hair and makeup, which elicited laughs but also reduced the solemnity of the occasion. And one
of the songs had to be rerecorded before we could get to the grand finale of the Assembly choir and audience singing
“Grandola Vila Morena.” I’m sure it’s going to look great on TV, and you'll be able to see the concert on YouTube as well.
You ‘re welcome to look for me. I sat behind a tall man in a suit. On Friday morning, Richard and I walked to the Largo de
Carmo, in front of the Guardia Nacional headquarters, where we heard some of the military veterans of the revolution
comment on struggles yesterday and today, specifically the need to resist rolling back the social and economic gains of the
past 40 years to please banks and business leaders. [caption id="attachment_11139" align="alignleft" width="200"]
Misericordia
pa ees A listing of gains of the revolution, including free speech, women's rights, free and fair
elections, the right to form unions, and social security benefits.[/caption] Most of the people wore or carried red carnations
in homage to the day. I kept thinking of one of the poems read at the Zeca tribute, calling the colors of freedom green and
red—the colors of the carnations but also of the Portuguese flag. I bought a carnation and wore it to the end of the short but
very crowded march down Avenida Liberdade to Rossio Square in the afternoon. Afterward, Richard and I took the short
path up multiple flights of stairs to the Casa da Achada, where our friend Joana, who rented us the apartment where we
stayed in 2012, was performing as part of a revolutionary choir. The Casa de Achada is a wonderful community center for
the neighborhood of Mouraria, just east of downtown. It features libraries for children and adults, a playground, space for
exhibition and performances, and an active schedule of events and classes. When we were there, the exhibition space
featured paintings by revolutionary artist and essayist Mario Dionisio, and outside were billboards with quotations and
artifacts showing life under the dictatorship and the joy of a people experiencing their first days of freedom. If you’re
reading this post in a country where you’ve never known anything but freedom, it may be hard to imagine what it’s like to
live without it. In Portugal under the dictatorship, for instance, children were not required to attend school beyond the age
of eight, and one-third of the country was illiterate. Boys and girls went to separate schools. Students who arrived late,
broke the rules, or gave certain wrong answers received harsh physical punishment. Religion was central to the classroom
and school day even in public schools. Teachers could not marry without permission from the Ministry of Education, a
restriction that extended to many other jobs as well. Women were considered the property of their husbands and could not
travel outside the country without their husbands or notarized and officially-approved permissions from their husbands.
Women had no reproductive rights, because having babies was considered an interest of both their husbands and the State.
The indignities large and small of life under dictatorship went on and on. In addition, the small, impoverished country (in
large part because the dictator wanted the people to remain ignorant and unskilled to be easier to control) was mired in
wars against liberation forces in Angola, Guinea-Bissau, and Mozambique, wars that resulted in nine thousand Portuguese
dead and more than 100,000 wounded, and many more casualties among the various African peoples. The MFA consisted in
large part of officers radicalized by their time in Africa—as was Zeca, who spent much of his childhood in Mozambique and
later married a Mozambican woman. We had a long and memorable day honoring these brave revolutionaries, whose
peaceful removal of an oppressive regime and restoration of democracy captivated the world 40 years ago. We also
understand that the struggle continues, and protecting democracy—rule by the people—against power-hungry despots and
bean-counting plutocrats requires that we do not rest, and we do not retreat.
