Enough is enough: immigration propels far-right populists to mainstream politics in Portugal

The Portuguese parliamentary elections of 18 May 2025 mark the official obituary of the debate over the existence of a Portuguese exception to right-wing radical populism. Chega (“Enough”) stunned political observers by becoming the main opposition party to a minority right-wing government led by Luís Montenegro. It has had a meteoric rise, boosted by three consecutive snap elections. From the sole election of its leader, political firebrand André Ventura, with just 1.29% of the vote in 2019, Chega surged to 7.18% in 2022 (12 seats), 18.07% in 2024 (50 seats), and 22.76% in 2025 (60 seats out of 230).
Until recently, political scientists attributed Portugal’s apparent immunity to far-right populism to low levels of immigration and Euroscepticism, as well as to the resilience of traditional parties. But this has changed dramatically in the course of less than six years. With Chega’s rise, Portugal joins a growing list of European democracies where radical right-wing populists have entered the political mainstream. From France’s National Rally to Italy’s Brothers of Italy and Spain’s Vox, the political landscape across Southern Europe is being reshaped by nationalist rhetoric, anti-immigration sentiment, and a rejection of political elites. Portugal now follows this trend. Three key factors help explain why.
First is the emergence of André Ventura himself. Originally from the ranks of the centre-right (PSD), Ventura proved a gifted populist communicator, tapping into deep-seated frustrations among parts of the electorate. His early rhetoric targeted the Roma community—traditionally marginalized and numerically insignificant—but quickly evolved into a broader anti-system message. Ventura’s success was also aided by his mastery of social media, where he built a loyal following through provocative, unfiltered messaging. By bypassing traditional media gatekeepers, he was able to mobilize younger and disaffected voters who felt excluded from mainstream discourse. Approximately one million new voters turned out in the 2024 and 2025 elections, many of them drawn by Chega’s populist appeal.
Second is the chronic political instability fueled by an erratic president who called three snap elections in under four years, exercising a discretionary constitutional power that makes the head of state the ultimate arbiter in resolving political crises by calling the people to the polls. The first followed the rejection of the State budget for 2022; the subsequent two were triggered by ethical scandals involving sitting prime ministers. Though these scandals ultimately proved to lack criminal substance, Ventura skillfully used them to reinforce a narrative of systemic corruption and elite failure.
Third—and perhaps most consequentially—is immigration. While correlation is not causation, the nearly linear relationship between rising immigration and Chega’s electoral growth is hard to ignore. Between 2020 and 2025, Portugal’s foreign-born population rose by one million, in a country of just over ten million. The Socialist government of António Costa had embraced a generous immigration policy under the motto that “Portugal can welcome the world”. Economically, the policy arguably succeeded, contributing to labor force growth and fiscal stability. Politically, however, it proved toxic for the left. Chega capitalized on anxieties over national identity, resource scarcity, and cultural change. Its message resonated more strongly in economically fragile regions and urban peripheries where the State is often perceived as absent.
In the 2025 elections, the Socialist Party suffered one of its worst defeats in history, dropping to third place in terms of representation with just 58 seats, even though it still came second in terms of the overall number of votes. Its former partners in “Geringonça” (the informal left-wing coalition that ruled between 2015 and 2019) fared even worse: the Communist Party secured only 3 seats, the Left Bloc no more than 1. Only Livre—a small, pro-European green party—gained traction, earning 6 seats.
Notably absent from much of this analysis until now is the official winner: Luís Montenegro. Though he improved slightly on his 2024 result (gaining 2,88% of the popular vote and 11 additional seats), his coalition with the historically significant but electorally declining Christian Democrats (CDS) remains a minority government without a clear path to stability. Montenegro had hoped to emulate Aníbal Cavaco Silva’s 1987 breakthrough—when inconclusive elections two years prior were followed by a landslide majority—but that ambition appears to have been far-fetched.
The ethical scandal that triggered the latest election—reports that Montenegro’s wife and sons owned a company that continued to serve several of his former clients and raised issues of conflict of interest —may have delivered only a Pyrrhic victory. The only silver lining for the embattled prime minister, and for a Portuguese public increasingly weary of elections, is that snap elections are constitutionally barred for at least one year. New parliamentary elections can only be called after the next President takes office in March 2026.
In his first parliamentary speech following the elections, Ventura declared that this would be “the last ballot of the Third Republic” inaugurated by the 1974 Carnation Revolution. The statement is clearly hyperbolic, but it is quite telling that the political discussion held immediately after the election revolved around the possibility of constitutional reform.
Drafted in the wake of the military coup that ended the Estado Novo dictatorship (1926–1974), the Portuguese Constitution was ideologically charged, envisioning a path toward socialism through the nationalization of key sectors of the economy. While many of its more radical provisions were diluted in the 1982 constitutional reform and rendered obsolete after EU accession in 1986, academic debates about the extent of its “revolutionary DNA” remain contentious. One of the most symbolic points of contention remains the preamble of the Constitution, which still reads that one of its aims is to “open up a path to a socialist society”.
Now, for the first time since its adoption, Portugal’s right-wing parties hold a two-thirds parliamentary majority sufficient to amend the Constitution. PSD, Chega, and the Liberals could, on their own, push through constitutional reforms aimed at removing the Constitution’s remaining “revolutionary reminiscences.” Whether they will do so remains uncertain.
Both in 2024 and again in 2025, Montenegro campaigned on a firm “no means no” stance—vowing never to govern with Chega or rely on its support, thereby adopting a softer version of the French-German cordon sanitaire. He has kept his promise so far. But if constitutional reform proceeds, the real test will come. Will Montenegro align with Chega? Or rather with a Socialist Party that may soon be led by a politician almost indistinguishable from himself in policy terms?
A centrist alliance could help neutralize legislative gridlock and diffuse political polarization. However, it would also leave Chega as the loudest and most visible voice of opposition—aggressive, confrontational, and well-positioned to benefit from further disenchantment. One thing is certain: in a desperate attempt to defuse Chega’s momentum, the current minority government will almost certainly pursue a legislative agenda focused on stricter immigration controls and tighter conditions to acquiring citizenship by foreign nationals—hallmarks of Chega’s platform.
The myth of Portuguese exceptionalism has crumbled. What will replace it remains to be seen.