What will be the political system of the future, in the lands that are still optimistically, or naively, viewed as containing one American nation? Certainly, the current system is doomed, which necessarily means that an alternative will rise. Some replacements are flashy, full of promise mixed with danger, such as an American Augustus, Michael Anton’s Red Caesar. But other replacements have lower amplitude, and the quiet authoritarian corporatism exemplified by the Portugal of António de Oliveira Salazar is one such. As it happens, I think it would be a bad alternative for America. Nonetheless, Salazar’s creation, which was undoubtedly good for Portugal, deserves to be better known than it is, and to be understood, for the lessons it teaches us.
For post-liberals in particular, Salazar is necessarily interesting, since he is one of the few twentieth-century examples of a long-lived Right regime that successfully opposed the corrosion of Enlightenment liberalism. But English-language information on him is scarcer than hen’s teeth. For some years, in fact, I have looked for a recent Salazar biography. And then a few months ago popped up this outstanding volume, Tom Gallagher’s Salazar, which I immediately bought.
As has become my practice when trying to grasp crucial historical periods, I have consulted a variety of other works, notably Stanley Payne’s two-volume A History of Spain and Portugal (1973); John Kay’s Salazar and Modern Portugal (1970); and The Portugal of Salazar, by Michael Derrick (1938). Although none of these cover Portugal after the system that Salazar built ended in 1974, that is not a defect, since nothing notable or worthwhile has happened in Portugal since Salazar died in 1970. True, the total amount of information is not huge, but at least these works are neutral (Derrick’s is overtly pro-Salazar), so unlike with works on the Spain of Francisco Franco, one does not have to sort propaganda from actual history.
Salazar’s rule, from 1932 to 1968, is best described as enlightened authoritarianism, through the vehicle of a corporatist system. Thus, although the (odd) subtitle of this book refers to Salazar as a dictator, that is really a misnomer, because a dictator implies the suspension of the rule of law. Authoritarian rule combined with the rule of law is not only possible, but historically much more common than without, and such rule characterized Salazar’s Portugal. Salazar rejected the appellation of dictator, claiming “Scrupulously abiding by the law and applying myself to its spirit is a permanent preoccupation.” (He also objected to the term because Western media never applied it to Communists and anti-colonial thugs like Abdel Nasser.) Every so often during Salazar’s rule there were extrajudicial killings by Salazar’s subordinates, so the rule of law was not absolute, but as Carl Schmitt taught, sovereign is he who decides the exception.
On a side note (skip ahead if you want to get to Salazar), there is actually one other book available, from 2009, Filipe de Meneses’s Salazar: A Political Biography. But like most books even a few years old, it is out of print, and thus only available used. Until quite recently, Amazon (and a few other marketplaces) offered good liquidity and reasonable prices in the used book market. However, I have noticed, although I don’t know the cause, that prices for most used history books have skyrocketed. Moreover, many are not even to be found on Amazon, the simplest location for buying books (though Jeff Bezos should be flogged with chains), and if they are, Amazon’s price is much higher than available elsewhere. This means that on or off Amazon, books, including Meneses’s, are often only available for a thousand dollars or more. I assume this is simply algorithmic, figuring that fewer sales at much higher prices will maximize revenue, because the internet allows the desperate to locate what they must have. But it’s yet another example of how we were promised the internet would improve our lives by leading to easier, better transactions. Which, for books, it has, up to a point—but only for those with money. And by offering frictionless transactions, the internet has destroyed the serendipity of an unexpected find, and of an unexpected bargain. I’m not sure the tradeoff is worth it.
Anyway, back to Salazar. Why is Salazar so little known today? Well, despite its glorious past, for several hundred years Portugal has been obscure. Its only neighbor is Spain, and what attention it does get from the English-speaking world is mostly the result of Portugal being closely tied to England for centuries. Despite a long coastline, it controls no important waters (though the Azores would matter in a new Atlantic war); it has no crucial role in global politics. Yes, as we will discuss, for a good part of the twentieth century it maintained a significant colonial empire, but even that could not make it a relevant power—rather, it was mostly a millstone, one the Portuguese were loath to give up, feeling they had to keep up appearances, and that the colonies benefitted them economically.
It is also Salazar himself that makes him little known. For better or for worse, Salazar’s life and career lack the high drama and excitement of other twentieth-century autocrats. Beyond this, he appears to have no important modern supporters or detractors, other than perhaps inside Portugal. Franco, with whom Salazar is often lumped, has detractors, because he heroically defeated the Left, in a conflict with global prominence and impact, something for which the Left will never forgive him. As a result, Franco’s memory is maintained by the Left as a talisman of hate. (He also has supporters, such as me, but for a little while yet, I lack great power. Wait a year or five.) Salazar, though a man of the Right, did not defeat the Left in any spectacular way; he came to power through technocratic skill and because Portugal was tired of leftist-run instability, and gravitated to his quiet competence. Thus, even if the Left doesn’t particularly care for Salazar, he is not an object of loathing. And so, because the Left writes all the modern histories of the West, they choose to forget him.
But he is not forgotten in Portugal. Gallagher makes much of a poll from 2007, tied to a television series on “Great Portuguese,” where forty-one percent of respondents voted Salazar as “the greatest figure in Portuguese history,” creating “huge surprise and consternation among opinion-formers.” Gallagher should make much of such a poll—one can be sure that, just as in America, in Europe the non-elites maintain very different opinions from their supposed betters, despite the torrent of indoctrination they face from birth. Moreover, this poll was before the 2008 financial crisis, which hit Portugal hard, whose elites there as elsewhere in Europe doubled down with fresh tyrannies greatly empowering the globalist EU elite and transnational corporations. I’d bet the percentage who named Salazar would be higher today. Ironically, though, Salazar would have sneered at the poll that named him the winner. He had no truck with mass opinion. As Gallagher sums the situation up, “Paradoxically, Salazar’s distrust of the ballot box, belief in rule by experts, and readiness to endorse censorship in order the control the flow of ideas now enjoy more favour among globalists on the left than among nationalists on the right.” Very true. We will see to what this leads, and that right soon.
Salazar was born in 1889, the fifth child and only son of a peasant family of modest means, in Vimieiro, a small and unimportant village in central Portugal. Unlike Spain, Portugal had been ruled, badly, by a series of liberal regimes for sixty years, the result of the Peninsular War and its aftermath (including ongoing British interference). It was still a monarchy, of sorts, and the Catholic Church was prominent, but neither Crown nor Church had anywhere near the power it did in Spain. The Church was fiercely attacked by the usual radicals and Freemasons, though it maintained a strong presence in the countryside. Portugal’s economy was almost exclusively agricultural; its people were largely illiterate. In short, Portugal was poor, politically unstable, fragmented, and backward, by the standards of the day.
When he was ten, Salazar entered the seminary. This was not so much because he, or his parents, saw the priesthood as his career, but because the Church often educated the talented poor. Salazar stayed in the seminary until he was nineteen, in 1908, the same year King Carlos and his heir apparent were assassinated by French-influenced radical republicans. He became keenly interested in the thought of French rightist Charles Maurras (French influence was of all types in Portugal, apparently), and was also heavily influenced by Gustave Le Bon (from whom he got some of his dislike of popular acclaim). While he seriously considered becoming a priest, he concluded that was not the life for him. So, in 1910, the same year the monarchy ended permanently, overthrown in a violent revolt, creating the First Republic, Salazar entered the prestigious University of Coimbra, from whose graduates and professors the ruling class tended to be drawn.
Unlike today’s American universities, Coimbra was dominated by conservatives, something causing the leftist Portuguese Republicans no end of heartburn. It was here that Salazar made many of the friends who would support him and work for his government in the coming decades—a diverse and lively group. Salazar was both talented and a workaholic, which helped him advance rapidly, even if he was prone to occasional depression (sometimes occasioned by romantic failures, though he had successes too). Already in 1916 he became a member of the economics faculty, writing theses on wheat production and the gold standard, with a focus on how Portugal could live within its means. That is, he was an economic technocrat, and placed confidence in rule by bureaucratic experts. This is an old tradition in Europe, which predates the American imposition of rule by experts, begun by the Progressives early in the twentieth century. Maybe it made some sense in the past, when the ruling classes were more virtuous and governments much smaller.
Meanwhile, the Republicans were busy trying to suppress conservatives and the Church, including by the usual Left violence, though with less violence than would characterize the Spanish Republicans of the 1920s and 1930s. In 1919, Salazar was suspended from his academic post by the government, on the grounds he was spreading “monarchist propaganda,” but no evidence could be found for the charge, and he offered a vigorous defense, so he was not cancelled. In fact, Salazar showed little interest in electoral politics, monarchist or otherwise, but he did allow himself to be put forward as a candidate for the Catholic Center party in 1921. He won—but soon thereafter leftists murdered the prime minister and the government was overthrown; Salazar did not run again.
The First Republic was extremely unstable, and Portugal’s problems were exacerbated by entering the war in 1916, on the Allied side. A military coup in 1917, followed by assassination of the leader of the coup, led to on-and-off regional civil war among Republicans and monarchists, constantly shifting governments (nine different ones in 1920 alone), and finally the end of the First Republic, by military coup yet again, in 1926. That coup was chaotic and had no clear principle or leader (which seems to have been the pattern for Portuguese coups); after several shifts of power, a general, Oscar Carmona, became the effective head of state. This began the Second Republic. At its inception, it was not as chaotic as the First Republic, but it was hardly stable, and had no consistent policy or set of beliefs, combining everyone from monarchists to moderate liberals, bound together only by disgust with the Republicans.
Salazar was asked to, or put himself forward to, advise the new government on tax policy and such matters. Finance was a crucial matter for the regime—Portugal’s chaos and poor economic shape made any government action difficult, and the new regime was fully aware Portugal desperately needed stability. Thus, in 1928 Salazar was appointed Minister of Finance, regarded as the most crucial position in government, given the challenges facing Portugal, including not losing its sovereignty as a result of accepting foreign loans. His appointment was the culmination of masterful bureaucratic infighting by him, and he demanded and was given great power—to veto any expenditure, and to individually control the budget of every ministry. And he did what he promised—balanced the books and brought stability, through ruthless control, centralization, and budget cutting.
Carmona came to rely on Salazar more and more, and funneled power in his direction. As a result, Salazar quickly became heavily involved in other critical matters such as Portugal’s extensive colonies, mostly in Africa, but also including Goa, in India, and Macau, in China. Mozambique and Angola, ruled by Portugal since the sixteenth century, were important to Portugal; their exploitation was conducted by Portuguese businesses, often with British advice and financing, and they offered avenues for ambitious Portuguese to make their fortune. Salazar thus gradually came to dominate all governmental affairs, in part because he was super-competent, in part due to political acumen. In 1930, he created the National Union, an umbrella group designed to replace all other political parties. In 1932, he became prime minister, practically by acclamation, or perhaps by default. This began, and the new 1933 constitution (approved by sixty percent of voters in a plebiscite) officially inaugurated the Estado Novo, or New State, seen as an extension of Salazar himself. Carmona stayed as president, but any functions of his with power were absorbed by Salazar; the position became essentially ceremonial, and Carmona held it until 1951.
The Estado Novo offered, as Payne says, a type of authoritarian corporatism . . . [Review continues as first comment.]