Lisbon court orders Chega to remove anti-Roma posters or pay €2,500 a day

The country was still sipping its morning coffee when the judiciary ordered the far-right Chega party to strip down campaign billboards that singled out the Roma minority. Within hours, the ruling triggered a showdown between the courts and party leader André Ventura, who insists he has nothing to apologise for even as fines begin to pile up.

What just happened?

• Lisbon Civil Court ruled that Chega’s posters violate anti-discrimination law

• Party faces €2,500 per day for every sign left standing

• André Ventura vows to fight the decision, says he was "right"

• Six Roma associations call ruling a “victory for dignity”

• Public prosecutor is already running a separate hate-speech inquiry

Behind the bench: why judges intervened

The 10-page decision by Judge Ana Barão argues that the slogan “Os ciganos têm de cumprir a lei” does more than campaign—“it aggravates long-standing stigma,” she wrote, pointing to Portugal’s own Law 93/2017, which transposes the EU directive against racial discrimination. The court concluded that putting an entire ethnic group “on notice” nurtures an atmosphere where segregation becomes ‘acceptable’.

This reading is broadly in line with European Court of Human Rights jurisprudence, which places a heavier burden on political speech once it targets minorities. Although Portugal has only about 40,000 Roma citizens, watchdogs say they suffer higher school drop-out rates, precarious housing and sharp employment gaps—context ignored, the ruling notes, by Chega’s billboard blitz.

Ventura doubles down

Standing in front of a hastily covered billboard, Ventura told reporters he felt “zero remorse.” He cast the verdict as “judicial censorship” that could “muzzle future campaigns.” The party immediately replaced the poster text with the vaguer “Portugueses Primeiro,” signalling it will pivot but not retreat. Privately, Chega lawyers are preparing an appeal aimed at Portugal’s Supreme Court of Justice and, if necessary, the Constitutional Court.

Political analysts say the gambit fits Ventura’s well-worn playbook: provoke, claim victimhood, then harvest the media airtime. In the last European elections the same formula delivered Chega 9.4 % of the vote—enough to anchor polls but not yet to govern.

Counting the cost of defiance

Failing to pull down each billboard could soon bite. At €2,500 per day per poster, leaving just 20 signs up for a fortnight would rack up about €700,000—three times what Chega declared in campaign spending for the 2024 European race. Party treasurer Diogo Pacheco admits the coffers are thin and hints the fine will “encourage grassroots donations.”

Whether donors will step up is unclear. A recent Universidade Católica poll found that while 29 % of respondents back Ventura’s “law and order” rhetoric, a slim majority of centre-right voters oppose ethnic-based messaging, fearing it could isolate Portugal in Brussels.

Voices from the Roma community

Roma activist Silvia Vaz wept outside the courthouse, calling the ruling “a recognition of our humanity.” Her NGO, SOS Cigano, documented a spike in online hate posts—up 42 % on the week the posters went up. Community leaders stress the posters “aren’t mere paper” but a public branding of every Roma child as suspect.

Ricardo Sá Fernandes, counsel for the six plaintiffs, argues the case could set “hard boundaries” for campaign tactics ahead of the 2026 presidential contest. He wants Parliament to revisit draft legislation that would allow swift removal of hate material without full civil proceedings.

Political temperature ahead of 2026

With presidential primaries nine months away, mainstream parties now face a strategic quandary: condemn too loudly and risk elevating Chega’s outsider image, or remain muted and cede moral ground. The Socialist-led government has so far limited itself to repeating that "justice has spoken." However, some MPs on the centre-right PSD warn privately that the ruling could be weaponised against any tough-on-crime slogan.

Election law scholar Paula Resende says the affair could accelerate the drafting of a Portuguese equivalent to Germany’s Volksverhetzung statute, which bars incitement against protected groups. “Portuguese jurisprudence is still reactive—each poster, each tweet needs a new lawsuit,” she notes. A cleaner statute would give the ERC media watchdog and local councils clearer removal powers.

Why it matters to everyday residents

For those not glued to political theatre, the case matters because it tests three fault lines at once:

Free speech vs. hate speech – where does Portugal draw the line?

Local rule-of-law reputation – EU cohesion funds are increasingly tied to rights benchmarks.

Quality of public debate – does focusing on one minority fix or distract from broader security problems?

Portugal has historically prided itself on soft-spoken politics; this ruling shows that legal tools are sharpening when rhetoric hardens. Regardless of the appeals, the fines start clocking today. And while posters can be peeled off, the wider question—how to talk about integration without scapegoats—remains firmly glued to the wall.