Fascismo Nunca Mais!
The crowd—probably over a million people have flooded on Avenida de Liberdade—is chanting, loudly. They are chanting the only chant that matters today. They are yelling it. They are screaming it. Over and over, the same verse without end, vividly, passionately. They mean it.
“Fascismo nunca mais!”
Parades in Portugal are a situation rather than a spectacle, there are no floats, there is no clear boundary between those watching and those marching, they are very fluid, they are participatory. Like so many in the street I choose to participate, I elect to be swept away with the banners, the bullhorns, the raw emotional outpouring of pride and defiance.
“Fascismo nunca mais!”
But this is the end of the day, a long day of celebration that began so very early in the morning, or really that began fifty years ago, in a different part of the city, for different reasons. Imagine if you will, it is 1974 and a column of mechanized infantry including a massive mobile gun is navigating the narrow streets of Lisboa, headed for the Republican National Guard headquarters, to demand the hand over of dictator Marcelo Caetano, their rifles loaded with flowers, and people, hundreds of people walking with them, chanting, optimistic, eager for a new beginning for Portugal.
“Fascismo nunca mais!”
Today it is 2024, fifty years later. The same gun, the same driver is attempting to navigate the hills yet again, destined for the Republican National Guard headquarters yet again, and people, hundreds of people walking with them, chanting, cheering, filming with their phones.
“Fascismo nunca mais!”
The gun is nearly there. Just a couple more corners to turn. This is an emotional moment for everyone. I wish I knew their names. One is crying, the other comforting, the crowd is going fucking bananas because these men had the courage to do what was necessary. Even if it was in their own self interest, even if it wasn’t for the people, not originally, they just wanted an end to endless war, an end to watching their friends dying.
“Fascismo nunca mais!”
The streets are too narrow. Even with a team of helpers guiding them, the driver is stressing. He almost takes out a street sign, narrowly avoids it only with the help of crowds pushing and pulling on the flexible steel poles, he makes the turn and the crowd’s cheering somehow finds a way to increase in celebration of the successful maneuver.
“Fascismo nunca mais!”
I wish I knew their names, these people are clearly important to the story, the crowd’s reaction makes it obvious, but I don’t know them, I can only push forward, photograph this moment, this brief moment, as the chant relents and transforms into singing, singing about being free like the seagulls, free to fly.
“Como ele / somos livres / somos livres / de voar”
Today’s message is an important one for the Europe, for the United States, for the West, for the world. Fascism cannot, will not be tolerated. I have the sinking feeling that my fellow Americans who need to very badly to hear this message yet who fail to understand that there is a world beyond their borders will not hear this message because where even is Portugal and do they speak Spanish there? Optimism is hard today. Which is why we must chant the only chant that matters today. We must yell it. We must scream it. Over and over, the same verse without end, vividly, passionately. We must mean it.
Fascism, never again.
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