25th April Forever!

Last week, Sarah and I shared with the people of Portugal in celebrating the 49th Anniversary of the Carnation Revolution and the beginning of the country’s road to freedom. The peaceful transition in 1974 ended more than forty years of the authoritarian regime of António Salazar. I joined with thousands here in Lisboa as they walked down Avenida da Liberdade and I saw the beauty and the strength and the fierce determination of the people of this land, felt their joy and their ongoing pursuit of better lives for themselves and so many. They celebrated and they protested, marching and singing and laughing together, carnations everywhere.

I remember our first 25th April, officially O Dia da Liberdade, or Freedom Day, in our flat down in Chiado. It was only our second month in Portugal and the country was still in near complete pandemic lockdown. I heard loud music outside and, going to our front balcony, I could tell the song was coming from the Revolution Restaurant, just up the street from us. The music’s marching beat, the undercurrent of footsteps, and the one word I thought I could understand, fraternidade, intrigued me and I had to discover more.

I noticed many people carrying red carnations and I followed them up the street and past the Teatro Trindade and we came to the Largo do Carmo, a small plaza surrounded by historic buildings and tree-shaded cafés. At the center of the plaza, people were gently laying their carnations on a medallion dedicated to Salgueiro Maia, an army captain who was a pivotal character in the events of the peaceful revolution. Salgueiro had urged his men to join together voluntarily to end the fascist state.

Back in 1974, the peaceful coup was initiated by two secret signals. First, Paulo de Carvalho’s “E Depois do Adeus” was aired on 24 April. This alerted rebel captains like Salgueiro and other soldiers to begin the coup. The second signal–and the song I heard repeatedly that day–came at 12:20 a.m. on 25 April, when a radio station broadcast “Grândola, Vila Morena” (a song by banned from Portuguese radio at the time). “Grândola, villa morena, terra da fraternidade”—“Grândola, sun drenched village, land of brotherhood” became the primary theme of the revolution and I sang it with the thousands marching last week, mumbling some of the words, but in spirited support.

The Carnation Revolution got its name when restaurant worker Celeste Caeiro, a waitress at a restaurant that had to close due to the events of the day, started offering carnations–originally intended to celebrate the restaurant’s anniversary–to the soldiers. As the population took to the streets to celebrate the end of the dictatorship, other demonstrators followed suit and placed carnations in the muzzles of guns and on the soldiers’ uniforms.

At the Largo do Carmo back in 1974, prime minister Marcelo Caetano, who replaced Salazar after he had had a stroke, had fled to the main headquarters of the Lisbon military police there. The building was surrounded by the MFA (Movement of the Armed Forces) and they pressured him to peacefully cede power. 

Here in Portugal, history surrounds us, and we have discovered some close connections with the Carnation Revolution. We recently enjoyed a tour of a few of our area’s primary attractions and our guide shared with us that his father had been in the army back in 1974. On that morning in April, his father had been stationed in Santarém and had heard Captain Salgueiro Maia’s famous speech to his men, inspiring them and others to the peaceful events.

Even closer to our daily lives here, it turns out that RTP (Radio Television Portugal) is making a documentary to commemorate the 50th anniversary of the Carnation Revolution next 25th April. We were approached by RTP for assistance in their gaining access to film in the apartment upstairs from us. It turns out that the clandestine headquarters of the Partido Socialista (the PS) were located in our building (originally built in 1910) after the party had been founded in Germany in 1973. The party’s first general secretary, Mário Soares, subsequently became the first post-revolution Prime Minister in 1975 and, today, the current prime minister, Antonio Costa, represents the PS as well. When RTP returned to film in the flat, I got to meet two of the original founders of the party. Fascinating to envision the secret meetings and the planning related to this pivotal event that took place just upstairs!

So, last week I joined the thousands here as they celebrated and they protested, marching and singing and laughing together, carnations everywhere. “Vinte e cinco de abril sempre, fascismo nunca mais,” I chanted with them. “Twenty-fifth of April forever, fascism never again.” And I connected, if only momentarily, with so many of these beautiful, handsome people, old and young.

Obrigado pela inspiricão, o gente da minha nova terra.