AIMA Backlog Sparks 133,000 Lawsuits, Overwhelming Lisbon Administrative Court

A quiet yet decisive battle over Portugal’s immigration bureaucracy is being fought far from airport border controls. In the narrow corridors of Lisbon’s Administrative Court, clerks are juggling 133 000 unresolved lawsuits that all point their finger at the same institution: the recently created Agency for Integration, Migration and Asylum (AIMA). Each file represents an immigrant who, after months—or sometimes years—of silence, asked a judge to force the agency to move. The swelling caseload lays bare the tension between Portugal’s stated openness to newcomers and the administrative machine that turns that promise into a residence permit.

The court that became a de facto help desk

Judges sitting a short walk from Avenida da República never imagined they would become arbiters of routine residence-card requests. Yet, according to internal tallies confirmed by court staff, the Lisbon Administrative Circle is now home to roughly half of all nationwide lawsuits filed against AIMA. Most cases follow the same template: applicants accuse the agency of infringing the legal deadline—90 days—to decide on a residence application. When those deadlines lapse without an answer, Portuguese law allows an intimação para a prática de acto devido, essentially an order compelling the State to act.

Litigants have multiplied since SEF’s dismantling in October 2023 and the handover of civil functions to AIMA. Lawyers specialising in foreigners’ rights estimate that petitions have jumped four-fold in 1 year. Courts grant the bulk of claims because the procedural violation is straightforward. The backlog, however, means that even a favourable ruling can take 4-6 months to be enforced, perpetuating uncertainty for families and employers alike.

How did 133 000 lawsuits accumulate?

The agency inherited over 350 000 pending residency files nationwide—an open secret acknowledged by the Ministry of Home Affairs in a January briefing to Parliament. AIMA’s early months were spent migrating data from SEF’s archaic servers to a modern platform, a process officials admit “did not go to plan”. As files stalled, word spread in immigrant communities that a court petition often moved things faster than waiting in the digital queue. The result is an administrative ouroboros: each new lawsuit forces staff to divert time to litigation instead of processing the underlying application, thereby feeding the very beast it tries to slay.

The agency’s three-pronged rescue blueprint

Management insists the tide can still turn. For 2025, AIMA secured €18 M to hire 450 additional caseworkers, many on short-term contracts, and opened new service centres in Porto, Braga and the Algarve. A pilot mutirão—an intensive weekend shift system borrowed from Brazilian courts—processed 7 000 dossiers in a single April weekend, according to the agency’s own figures. Perhaps more consequential is the promised rollout of a fully digital biometric enrolment, which would allow applicants to upload fingerprints at municipal counters instead of travelling to Lisbon or Faro. Officials hope automation will slash the average decision time to 60 days by late-2025. For now, scepticism lingers; similar pledges surrounded the SEF reform yet the docket continued to swell.

Legal consequences and taxpayers’ bill

While most rulings simply order AIMA to issue a decision, a growing handful award monetary damages for moral loss, citing the impact on family reunification or job opportunities. Judgments reviewed by legal scholars in 2024 show compensation ranging from €500 to €4 000 per claimant. If even a fraction of the 133 000 open cases end with damages, the public purse could face tens of millions in payouts, not counting interest or court fees. The Ministry of Finance has set aside a contingency fund, but warns that systematic litigation is unsustainable.

Why this matters beyond the courtrooms

Portugal’s demographic strategy relies on foreign labour to offset an ageing population and record-low birth rate. Construction, tourism and tech start-ups already struggle to fill vacancies. Delays in residence permits translate directly into lost tax revenue and stalled investment, argues economist João Cerejeira from the University of Minho. Multinational firms have begun steering remote workers to Spain’s “digital nomad” visa because its approval time averages 30 days. If AIMA cannot clear the logjam, Portugal risks eroding a competitive edge carefully cultivated through friendlier immigration rules and affordable cost of living.

The view from the plaintiffs

Rashed Ahmed, a Bangladeshi cook in Porto, sued after waiting 14 months for his renewal. He won, but still needs to take an unpaid day off to collect fingerprints in Lisbon because appointments up north are booked solid. “I love it here and I pay taxes,” he says, waving the court ruling that now must be enforced. “But a paper you cannot eat.” His frustration resonates with Portuguese landlords, banks and municipalities that rely on valid residence permits to provide leases, loans and public services.

Next steps

Parliament expects Interior Minister Margarida Blasco to present a quarterly progress report starting in July. Opposition parties are already floating amendments that would automatically convert arraigado digital-nomad or student visas into temporary residency after a set period, reducing AIMA’s workload. The government maintains that the agency is turning a corner. Court clerks, faced with floors of boxes labelled “AIMA 2024”, will believe it when they see fewer files coming through the metal detector.