Portugal is awakening to a new configuration of its political destiny. The victory of the Democratic Alliance (AD), led by Luís Montenegro, reveals more of a deadlock than a coronation: it won without governing, triumphed without convincing. The Socialist Party (PS), for its part, suffered a fall that is not merely electoral—it is structural. And Chega, led by André Ventura, can no longer be dismissed as a fringe phenomenon—it has become an unavoidable axis in the new parliamentary geometry.
With 58 MPs, matching the Socialists, the far-right party has consolidated its position and turned the country into a three-party system. And the votes from abroad—typically more favorable to Chega—are still to be counted. The real issue does not lie in Chega’s rise, but in the political elite’s persistent refusal to anticipate it.
The polls were wildly off—yet again. For weeks, they projected Chega at between 14% and 18%. It ended up with over 22%. This is not merely a matter of technical failure, but of blindness. The “shy vote”—the same force that took Trump to the White House and Bolsonaro to the Planalto—is spreading in Portugal. It’s not just about concealment, but about distrust and resentment. Two Portugals coexist: one that answers polls and another that casts votes.
AD won, but lacks the strength to govern alone. Montenegro rejected right-wing alliances with Chega, making the parliamentary balance a minefield for any stability project. There may be a temptation to yield to extremism under the guise of institutional responsibility. But on the other hand, normalizing Chega erodes the boundaries of constitutional democracy. Populist parties are not tempered by power—they are radicalized by it.
On the other side, the PS faces its deepest crisis. The electoral defeat came with a strategic void, particularly with regard to younger voters. Pedro Nuno Santos offered to resign—and rightly so. It is a colossal failure not to capitalize on the collapse of trust in a government riddled with murky relations between a family-owned company and public contracts. To remain a viable alternative to governance, a major overhaul is needed.
This parliament reflects a fractured country, exhausted by promises and impatient with the slow pace of traditional politics. The new cycle is marked by institutional tension, ideological clashes, and a growing risk of political erosion. Portuguese democracy has endured, but it is under fire. This is not only about governing; it’s about understanding where the country is heading—and, above all, deciding whether we want to follow or resist that direction.
Perhaps only an alliance between the two main democratic parties—PSD and PS—can prevent Chega from becoming the dominant force. The idea, though sensitive and controversial, is made urgent by the gravity of the moment. The survival of democratic culture may soon depend more on responsible convergence between adversaries than on the repetition of historic antagonisms that no longer address the new sociopolitical reality.
Ventura promises a symbolic purge, a new beginning based on exclusion and strength. Chega’s great advantage is that it gains ground whenever conventional politics proves incapable of solving the people’s problems. And without a strong PS, the next elections may well turn into a war on the right, with Chega neck and neck with a PSD weakened by a parliamentary inquiry.
The worst may still be yet to come. There is a dangerous idea circulating—that Chega has already reached its peak. If the leadership of PSD and PS share this belief, they will continue making the same mistake: underestimating a movement that grows precisely in the absence of structural responses. The illusion of a plateau fuels inertia. And inertia is what has allowed Ventura to thrive.
*Executive Director of Plataforma.
