A President, One of Us

Belém Palace, with origins in the sixteenth century, current seat of the Presidency of the Republic of Portugal.

After so many shining stars in the Presidency of the Republic, is one of us now coming, affectionate, solid, of few words? The people of Penamacor, the birthplace of the current president, will say: a "Beira man", whatever that is.

The four of them entered the Belém Palace hand in hand. They show that they are a family. The staff of the Presidency of the Republic applaud. The country is moved and feels that it makes sense for the new president, António José Seguro, to enter this old palace, whose origins date back to the sixteenth century, accompanied by his wife and their two teenage children, for the first time. Blue is present and dominant in all its symbolism. Blue ties and blue dresses.

The new President of the Portuguese Republic enters the Belém Palace, accompanied by his wife and children.

It was on 9 March that this new President of the Portuguese Republic took office: the sixth to be elected in free and universal elections. Since 1986, 9 March has always been the date on which the most important figure in the Portuguese Republic takes office.

A bedrock of affection

The inauguration took place in a solemn session at the Assembly of the Republic. For a full twenty-five minutes, the Assembly secretary had to read the official record of the election results. It was tedious, with the high-ranking figures of state from several foreign countries drawing on the extra patience required by the formal exercise of their ceremonial duties. The young secretary had to interrupt the reading to take a sip of water. At the end, though it may not have been part of protocol, there was an effusive round of applause. Was it for the heroic dry-mouthed secretary, or for the 68% of the vote won by the new President of the Republic?

Protocol, this time, requires that at the beginning of the session the outgoing president, Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa, sit to the right of the President of the Assembly of the Republic. After the swearing-in, the newly inaugurated president exchanges seats with the former president, under a long round of applause. Now it is António José Seguro who sits on the right. Just as the Son of the Holy Trinity sits at the right hand of God the Father.

That moment of exchanging places between the two Presidents of the Republic defined the profile of the new president: there was a long, tight, moving embrace between them. António José Seguro, who is likely to prove very different from Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa, showed some emotion and enormous affection on his otherwise composed face. Rebelo de Sousa seemed almost embarrassed by the new president’s display of affection.

Then came the moment devoted to greeting a long line of guests. Seguro, always restrained in his manner, repeatedly showed emotion on his face. Emotion in his gaze, in his gestures, in his embrace, and in the tenderness he directed toward some of those present, suggesting a greater closeness, perhaps of many years, with some of the guests he was greeting.

The reassuring weight of institutions

The rituals followed one after another. The long reading of the official record, the speeches by the president of the assembly and then by the new president of the republic, the twenty-one-gun salute fired by the Tagus, the parade and military displays, the national anthem. All of it broadcast live on half a dozen television and radio channels, with various journalists and commentators.

A man of about seventy said he was from Penamacor, António José Seguro’s hometown. Having lived in Lisbon for many years, he had come to watch the military parades. He liked them very much. I wonder what pleased him. The weight of formality? Do all these rituals convey a certain sense of security to the ordinary citizen? Does the idea that there is an organisation embracing great national institutions such as the Armed Forces, Parliament, or the Presidency of the Republic give any citizen a sense of solidity, strength, and permanence in relation to the future? Does one go home more at ease? Are there organisations that keep everything in its place?

And yet, at the same time, these institutions, properly organised though they may be, are made up of people who feel, who are moved, who connect with one another.

In the moments before the ceremony, Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa remembered that he needed to buy something from a small grocery shop. Television followed his every move. Figures of state, after all, also eat crisps, assisted in their actions by a military officer who collects the shopping after it has been paid for.

After greeting all the guests, the new president went to the Jerónimos Monastery to salute our greatest official poet: Camões. Institutions, State, and now History and Culture.

Beside Camões’s tomb, in a corner of the Jerónimos Monastery, António José Seguro adjusts a wreath, as if to say, I was the one who had this bought. He then remains standing in silence, in a silent tribute to History and to the work that recounts the great Portuguese adventure of the fifteenth century. Yet another moment of the constant solemnity that should mark institutional gestures. Subtly, too, a glance toward the Catholic Church, another institution always present in our history, our daily lives, and therefore in our imagination.

One of us

I was among the 94% who did not believe António José Seguro had any chance even of reaching the second round of the presidential elections, when the polls were giving this candidate only 6%.

The high point was the televised debates, in which the style, bearing, and some of the ideas of each of the candidates became clear.

Seguro set himself apart through serenity. He understood, before anyone else, that he should immediately adopt a statesmanlike posture: reserved, calm, perhaps not very exciting, as many commentators noted.

For many living through these first decades of the twenty-first century, the presidency of the republic is a place of leadership. And to lead seems to mean projecting some kind of force, shouted to the four winds. There is an entire imaginary, also proclaimed to the four winds, that says a leader is someone who shouts, waves their arms, launches innovative ideas, and carries everyone along behind them. Someone who gets angry, becomes emotional, and sweeps crowds away. Someone different from the rest of us, a demigod, a loved and venerated hero, or at the very least a Homeric figure, with all the frailties of the Greek hero.

The anti-leader

Surprisingly, António José Seguro seemed to be the anti-leader: quiet, unassuming. On election day, Seguro left home on his way to the Cultural and Congress Centre in Caldas da Rainha and showed concern for the journalists, advising them not to catch cold.

To those who did not know him well, Seguro gradually projected the image of a simple man, the beloved son, the favourite son-in-law, the faithful friend, the companion always by our side. The biography of this serene man shows him to be organised and highly experienced in electoral campaigns. His resumé is in fact full of varied political experience in Portugal, as leader of the Socialist Youth or as a minister. But also in many European institutions. And in 2011 he became leader of the Socialist Party, one of Portugal’s largest political parties.

In 2014 he was defeated by António Costa in the election for the leadership of the Socialist Party, and withdrew from politics after that. I confess that I considered this withdrawal somewhat undignified on the part of a politician, but I was probably mistaken.

This man, now in the Presidency of the Republic, won 68% of the Portuguese vote. And he seems to be one of us.

Looking back at the presidents of the republic whose terms I followed, I see that they all displayed a certain exceptional quality. Ramalho Eanes was the soldier who won on 25 November, with an image that went down in history when he climbed onto a vehicle: the selfless hero. Mário Soares was the politician of long experience and intuition: a shining star. Jorge Sampaio, the politician who did not hide his emotion and cried in public: the humanist. Cavaco Silva was the serious man, above suspicion: the austere one. Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa, the professor from Cascais: a man of refinement.

It is worth remembering that the deputies of the Constituent Assembly, in 1976, drawing on several centuries of constitutional experience, defined a role for the President of the Portuguese Republic that does not fit the prominence of presidential systems in other places and founded in other times.

The Portuguese people’s choice of Seguro, at a time of planetary upheaval, reminds me of two things. The first is a phrase by Admiral Pinheiro de Azevedo, Portuguese prime minister for ten months between 1975 and 1976: “The people are serene.”

The second is The Lightship, a short story by Siegfried Lenz, a German writer born in 1926. In that story, the commander appears cowardly in the eyes of his son during an attack on his ship. But it is calm, prudence, and serenity that save the situation.

After so many bright stars in the Presidency of the Republic, there now comes one of us: affectionate, solid, sparing in words, organised. The people of Penamacor, the current president’s birthplace, would say: a man from Beira, whatever exactly that may mean.

One must wish him the very best energies in the performance of his office.

To him and to his family, our thanks from the outset for the sacrifice that all this will entail.

© Eduardo Rui Alves