Learning lessons from Portugal’s elections

What do politics in Lisbon teach us about fixing the problems in the Middle East?

The Middle East has always fascinated me. And like many others, it has always frustrated me. My first university degree was in political science, of which the foundation is the belief that there is a science – yes, science – to politics. In theory, formulas can be applied to similar situations. Yes often, those involved in the “world’s longest conflict” think it is beyond parallels. So where they exist, I try to find them. And I landed in Lisbon, which reminds me nothing of Tel Aviv, Jerusalem or Ramallah.

“Watching Portuguese politics,” one person in this European capital said to me upon arrival, “is like watching ping-pong. After a while, the hits become repetitive and the twisting of the neck becomes a pain. After a few good matches, almost everyone – save the die-hard fans – becomes disinterested.”

Given as much, one might be forgiven for not realizing that on Sunday, voters in Portugal will head to the polls to elect a new parliament in what is effectively a referendum on the now-toppled government of (Caretaker) Prime Minister Jose Socrates. “One” is not just readers around the world, but even the local Portuguese population. Most are more interested in Saturday’s football match against Norway – the news here is offering live coverage in the lead-up to the game – than they are with the vote taking place less than twenty four hours later. Banners for the various political factions contesting the snap election sparsely dot the capital – they are unassuming and non-invasive. One reads “on Sunday, vote.” But voter apathy is at an all time high, and voter turnout is expected to reach historically low proportions.

Learning lessons from Portugal's elections
Portuguese (Caretaker) Prime Minister walks through the streets of a Lisbon suburb on Friday, surrounded by supporters ahead of Sunday's snap parliamentary elections. (by Roee Ruttenberg)

The reason for the across-the-board disillusionment is the constant back and forth bickering between the ruling center-left Party of Socialists (PS), and the we-hope-to-be-ruling center-right Party of Social Democrats (PSD). The latter, led by Pedro Passos Coelho, was instrumental in bringing down Socrates’ coalition back in March. It did so after the PS-led government tried to introduce a fourth package of spending and pensions cuts, alongside tax hikes in what essentially was a de facto recognition that the first three measures did not produce results of enough significance. So the PSD challenged the PS. It may prove to have been a successful challenge, as polls suggest PSD will emerge as the winner, but not with a clear majority.

Learning lessons from Portugal's elections
Leader of the Portuguese Party of Social Democrats, Pedro Passos Coelho, speaking at a rally of supporters on Friday at the close of his campaign. (by Roee Ruttenberg)

It is already clear that whoever leads the next government will require a broad political consensus – one which can save Portugal. But the options for voters are hardly inspiring or novel. Portugal is facing its worst economic crisis in three decades. A report released last week revealed that forty percent of Portuguese children now live below the poverty line. (Remember, this is Europe!) And one out of every eight Portuguese workers is without a job, among the highest rates in the continent. The European Union, International Monetary Fund (IMF) and European Central Bank – the three here are known as the “troika” – recently approved $112 billion in conditional aid. Among the demands: that Portugal reduce its astounding deficit to 3.5% of GDP. The current figure is more than three times that amount.

There is a big dispute on how to spend Europe’s money. Socrates believes the government should stimulate the public sector, while Passos Coelho thinks the government should figuratively step-aside and let the private sector do so. Admittedly, there is a little more nuisance to it, but that is the break-it-down-for-me explanation.

The ones most affected, are the working class – people like Julieta Reis. At 64 years of age, she’s been working at Lisbon’s Mercado de Ribeira market selling vegetables for nearly half a century. She says the economy is the worse she has even seen it. Despite being less than one year away from Portugal’s official retirement age, she says she will have to keep working because the government’s monthly allowance of six-hundred Euros – which may itself be cut – is not enough to live on. She admits that the people of Portugal are to blame as much as the government. “We don’t have love for God or even each other,” Reis emotionally says, standing beneath a picture of the Virgin Mary that hovers over her produce stand. “Everything is a mess. And this is the result. It’s easy to see. But we are the blind ones who don’t want to see the truth. Things are bad. Really, really bad.”

But even Reis is not motivated to vote, and reveals she has no position on what the government should do with the bailout package it is receiving. And while critics fear that Passos Cuelho – at age 46 – has too little experience to lead the country during such a tumultuous time, many argue the last person to be anointed with handling the funds is Socrates himself. Public distrust of Socrates first mounted in 2007 following an inquiry over the validity of all five of his collegiate diplomas. But it grew into outright despise when he began issuing a series of reforms, promising not to target certain populations, only to then target them.

One 20-something student has gained national prominence for his mistrust of Socrates. He follows him around dressed as the country’s tax collector, with a Darth Vader twist, attempting to issue him with an invoice for more than one-hundred billion dollars in public debt he says was incurred on Socrates’ watch.

[youtube]http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ooVWtp0ZcCA[/youtube]

He says that on at least three occasions, members of Socrates’ inner political circles attacked him as he tried to reach the PS leader.

At a rally on Friday for Socrates, supporters pushed people out of the way, heralding “here comes the king.” To them, he is an untouchable monarch-like figure, holding on to the throne for more than six years. The banners read: “Defender of Portugal” and “Builder of the Future.” As he passed through the crowd, they kissed his cheeks and handed him roses. Passos Cuelho has his own fan club, and an admittedly catchy pop song that repeats his name over and over again in a Soviet-style cadence. “We are going to cut on useless spending, on the state’s excess fat, “Passos Coelho told supports at his final rally in Lisbon on Friday. “We will reestablish confidence in Portugal. And we will fulfill every agreement reached, and pay back what was asked for in our name until every last Euro.”

But many Portguese are not motivated by either option. Some are choosing instead to vote for the smaller fringe parties on the political left and right, factions which following Sunday’s vote will inevitably become kingmakers of the next government. On Saturday, a group calling itself “Democracy Right Now,” which has been camped-out in Lisbon’s main Rossio Square for fifteen days, was confronted by police attempting to enforce a “day of reflection,” the 24-hour period of campaigning blackout that precedes the vote. They insist the vote has nothing to do with real democracy, and say that Brussels’ role is, by default, an affront to Portuguese sovereignty. Their forced removal from the square was a rather unusual site for many onlookers, in a country with an uncertain future yet relatively little violence. This is, after all, Portugal: calm and sunny. Despite the difficulties, day-to-day life is generally quite pleasant.

Seeking out some of that pleasantness, I headed to Androrinhas, a typical Lisbonese middle-class restaurant. There, Jose Rafael spends half his day serving customers at their tables and the other half in the kitchen, grilling Portugal’s national dish, the salted cod fish. Oddly enough, the cod comes not from Portugal’s 1230 kilometers of coastline, but from the waters closer to Northwest Europe. Rafael insists there are a thousand ways to prepare the fish, which has been a tradition here ever since adventurous fisherman set out to sail and brought the fish back. It was salted to preserve it during the long journey to Portugal. For many, the salted cod fish represents Portugal’s unique identity. For others, it is a sign of its interdependence with Europe.

Many here simply want things to just get better, no matter where the answers comes from. They are sick of politics, sick of policies, and sick of politicians. So on election day, they chose to stay at home, believing that in Portugal it is not just the cod that smells fishy.

This defeatist attitude resonates strongly with anyone following Israeli politics, where sneaky backdoor deals have left a lingering stench that out-stinks even the saltiest of cod. Corruption in Portugal seems like a joke compared to that found in the Middle East. Yet Portugal finds itself in a unique moment of truth, like many of the countries in the Arab world, and indeed, like Israel. How the people are motivated to seize the moment, to (as Mahatma Gandhi famously said) “be the change you wish to see in the world,” will define them for years to come. The people have a unique opportunity to determine what their future will look like. Sadly, it seems many are willing to let a recycled group of politicians do the deciding for them.