A left-wing government in Portugal? Don’t hold your breath

Why there's not going to be a Portuguese "Syriza" any time soon.

A few months ago, the prospect of a new general election in Portugal was remote, but deepening austerity and the mistakes made by the right-wing government are changing public opinion. There is a feeling in the air that this government won't make it until 2015, but although it will probably not be re-elected, there won't be a left-wing government either.

The Socialist Party (PS), which is the biggest one in opposition, is not thriving. Weak leadership and the connection with Troika itself (they were in office when the bailout was requested) put them in a dubious position: they are against austerity, but they want to honour their commitment by paying off the whole debt. As a result, the PS would get only 30 per cent of the votes, according to the polls - not enough for a majority in Parliament.  

There are two other left-wing parties whom the socialists could ally with: the Communist Party (PCP) and the Left Bloc (BE). The PS would have to secure an agreement with both, since they together represent around 20 per cent of the votes, but such a union is very unlikely. 

PCP is one of the most orthodox communist parties in all Europe, with ideas and behaviour very similar to the Greek KKE. In spite of this, it has a very faithful electorate and is slowly rising in the polls, as a result of its straightforward ideas: the European Union and the Euro were a mistake and now it is time to negotiate our way out of it. It proposes "a patriotic leftist government", a definition that, according to the communists, the PS doesn't fit. PCP doesn’t make alliances with any party, as became clear in October, when it refused to participate in the Democratic Assembly for the Alternative, a leftist movement in which BE and PS were present.

BE, the Left Bloc, is a trickier case. Like Syriza in Greece, it is a merger of different leftist ideologies. And former leader Francisco Louçã surely loves being compared to Alex Tsipras, with whom he keeps in contact. BE had a stellar rise, receiving almost 10 per cent of the votes and becoming the third most popular party at the 2009 general election. Two years later, when the country faced new elections after asking for a financial rescue, they lost almost 5 per cent of the votes and half their MPs. This happened for many different reasons. Most people who voted in BE in 2009 were former PS voters. This electorate did not appreciate when Left Bloc didn't meet with representatives of the Troika two years ago, when the European Union and the IMF came to Portugal, as well as other mistakes. 

As if that wasn’t enough, BE is internally divided. It lost Louçã, its leader for the past twelve years, in August. But his shadow has not gone and he keeps surfacing as the main reason for so many militants leaving. Just a month ago, Daniel Oliveira, one of the most charismatic members of the party, left BE saying there was too much "internal sectarianism". He, as well as other dissidents, keep asking for an agreement with PS, so that there may be a chance for a left-wing government in Portugal. No one seems to be listening in both parties. They couldn't even form a coalition for the next local elections, in October.

The problem with the Portuguese left is that PCP and BE see themselves as new Syrizas, capable of rising up and stealing the election. On the other hand, the PS is incapable of making decisions that may cost them a future election or cause a bad relationship with the European Union. At the next election, whether it's sooner or later, PSD, the main party in government, may suffer a defeat, but there won't be any viable left alternative to even things up. And the socialists in the PS will turn to the right, leaving us at the exact same place where we started.

Follow Cátia Bruno on Twitter @catiabruno

Dockers protest outside the Portuguese parliament in Lisbon in November 2012. (Photo: Getty.)
Ellie Foreman-Peck
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Martin Schulz: could this man bring an end to the reign of Angela Merkel?

The German Eurocrat is the biggest threat to the possibility of a fourth term for Merkel. 

At first sight, Martin Schulz looks like an unlikely political saviour. Thin of hair and thick of waist, the 61-year-old was a member of the European Parliament for 23 years and its president for five. In an anti-establishment age, it was predicted that Schulz would struggle when he became the Social Democratic Party’s (SPD) candidate to replace Angela Merkel as the German chancellor in January. Instead, he is spearheading a remarkable revival in his tribe’s fortunes. On 19 February, for the first time in a decade, the SPD polled above Merkel’s Christian Democrats (CDU), attracting 33 per cent to their 32 per cent. The SPD vote share has increased by 12 points in a month. The cause is clear: “Martin mania”.

For months, it was assumed that Merkel would secure a fourth term as chancellor in September’s federal election. The SPD, the grandfather of European social democracy and Germany’s oldest party (it was founded in 1863), had polled as low as 19 per cent. After forming a grand coalition with the CDU in 2013, Schulz’s party was marginalised as Merkel claimed credit for policies such as the country’s first minimum wage. Voters defected to the far-left Die Linke and the far-right Alternative für Deutschland. The SPD’s future looked to be one of managed decline.

Sigmar Gabriel, the party’s leader since 2009, stood little chance of supplanting Merkel as chancellor. As a result, like François Hollande, he reached for the pearl-handled revolver: he announced his intention to step aside on 24 January after internal SPD polling showed that Schulz would perform significantly better against Merkel. “It was not an easy decision but I’m convinced it was the right decision,” Gabriel told reporters. His judgement was vindicated as public polls gave Schulz an 11-point lead over Merkel (49-38).

The German chancellor’s apparent unassailability owed less to her strength than to her opponents’ weakness. Eleven years after she entered office, voters had grown weary of Merkel’s leadership but saw no viable alternative. In Schulz, they have found one. Having been engaged at EU level and held no domestic office since standing down after 11 years as mayor of the north-western market town Würselen in 1998, Schulz has been embraced by voters as a relative outsider.

Unlike his SPD colleagues, Schulz can criticise the CDU’s record without appearing hypocritical or feeble. He has attracted voters with a centre-left emphasis on redistribution and social justice. “When people see that their taxes are used to give their children a future, they buy into it,” Schulz has said in interviews.

The European Parliament has been a useful platform for his pugnacious style. He is best known for being compared to a concentration camp guard by Silvio Berlusconi in 2003 and for his interjection in 2010 after Nigel Farage branded the then EU president, Herman Van Rompuy, a “damp rag”. Schulz retorted: “It’s not right that this man should be able to trample over the dignity of this house!”

Voters have warmed to Schulz’s personal story as well as his political history. He was born on 20 December 1955 in the village of Hehlrath, North-Rhine Westphalia, to a policeman father and a homemaker mother (he is the youngest of five). Rather than going to university, he trained as a bookseller and was a promising footballer. Two severe knee injuries ended his playing career at the age of 18 and he sought refuge in alcohol after falling into depression. Having contemplated suicide, he recovered to open a bookshop in his home town (which he ran until he became an MEP in 1994) and has been teetotal since 1980.

Schulz educated himself by devouring historical fiction (his favourite writers are John Steinbeck and Giuseppe Tomasi di Lampedusa) and retains the restlessness of an autodidact (he often works 18-hour days). His bonhomie and blunt manner appeal to voters who regard Merkel as aloof.

That Schulz has come to the SPD’s rescue is unsurprising. He joined the party at the age of 19 and became the youngest mayor in North-Rhine Westphalia when he was elected in Würselen at 31. After more than two decades serving the EU, the attractions of a return to domestic politics were obvious. “People must look into your eyes and see that you are a bloody streetfighter,” he remarked in 2013, as he presciently dismissed Ed Miliband’s electoral chances.

Schulz has disoriented the Christian Democrats, who failed to anticipate a centre-left renaissance. In a mark of how much he has unsettled them, the German finance minister, Wolfgang Schäuble, has denounced him as a Trump-like populist for his slogan “Make Europe great again”. Were Schulz to replace Merkel and Emmanuel Macron to be elected French president, the pair would unite in seeking to impose punitive Brexit terms on the UK.

For Germany’s Social Democrats, the fear is that Schulz’s surge has come too soon – voters could swing back to Merkel and the CDU before polling day. But after years as an emblem of centre-left malaise, the SPD has momentum. Schulz is determined to prove that there are second acts in political lives. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.

This article first appeared in the 24 February 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The world after Brexit