Parliamentary Immunity Pushes Chega MP Pedro Frazão’s Defamation Trial to 2026

A court date that was supposed to settle a headline-grabbing defamation fight between two Portuguese MPs has slipped once again, leaving voters to wonder why a three-year-old tweet is still clogging the justice system. The latest postponement—now earmarked for 12 January 2026—rests on a fresh claim of parliamentary privilege and has reignited debate over how far immunity should stretch when a law-maker steps outside the hemicycle and onto social media.

Key points to keep in mind

• Pedro Frazão, the Chega deputy at the centre of the case, says he can’t be tried until Parliament explicitly signs off.

• The judge wants Lisbon’s Transparency Committee to clarify whether a new waiver is really needed.

• The alleged victim is José Manuel Pureza, now national coordinator of Bloco de Esquerda.

• The original tweet dates back to 2021 and is being prosecuted as aggravated defamation with publicity.

• If convicted, Frazão could face both criminal penalties and civil damages.

Parliamentary pause frustrates Lisbon court

The hearing at the Lisbon Local Criminal Court opened earlier this month only to be halted when Frazão’s counsel filed a letter from the Committee on Transparency and Members’ Statute. That document argued that the end of the last legislature voided the previous green light to prosecute, so a brand-new authorisation is required. The judge asked the committee for a definitive answer before proceeding. Unless the Assembly votes quickly, the case will remain stalled, underscoring how parliamentary immunity, designed to protect free speech in the hemicycle, can morph into a procedural shield for behaviour on social networks. Observers note that similar delays have dogged cases against mayors, regional deputies and even European Parliament members, fuelling public frustration over the pace of Portuguese justice.

From tweet to tribunal: what sparked the clash

Back in spring 2021, Frazão posted a 45-second video of a young activist claiming she had suffered non-consensual sexual acts by a party colleague. He captioned it with the line, “Já não há Pureza no Bloco de Asquereza? #MeToo”, followed by a jab asking “who is the 62-year-old creep?”. Prosecutors say the wording was a clear nod to José Manuel Pureza, who indeed turned 62 that year and sat as vice-president of Parliament. The indictment argues Frazão purposely created a public suspicion that Pureza might be linked to a sexual-assault scenario, damaging his honour and reputation. Because the post appeared on Twitter/X, it qualifies as publicity, making the potential penalty steeper under Article 180 of the Penal Code. Frazão counters that he merely posed a rhetorical question, exercising freedom of political criticism.

Understanding Portugal’s defamation landscape

Portuguese law criminalises both defamation and injury, but courts often wrestle with the tension between honour and free expression. Over the last decade, rulings have gone both ways:• In 2019, the Porto Appeal Court upheld a conviction against a columnist who linked a mayor to “mafia-style” practices.• Yet in 2020, the same court overturned a sentence against a local-authority critic, holding that harsh language in an electoral context deserved wider latitude.Data released by the Justice Statistics Office groups defamation with related offences, so no precise tally exists for cases involving politicians. Legal scholars say the trend is toward protecting public debate, but when accusations touch on sexual crimes, magistrates lean more readily toward condemnation. The growing role of social media, where posts can spread to thousands within minutes, is driving calls for clearer guidance on when online speech crosses the line.

Immunity: privilege or loophole?

Portugal’s Constitution grants deputies material immunity for words uttered in Parliament and procedural immunity for crimes carrying a maximum sentence above 3 years. Defamation’s upper limit is exactly 3 years, making the situation murky. In 2023, MPs waived protection for a colleague accused of tax fraud, but in 2024 they refused a request involving an alleged traffic-camera tampering. Critics argue the current system allows a double standard: swift accountability for ordinary citizens, but drawn-out proceedings when the defendant holds a seat in São Bento. Supporters claim the safeguard prevents politically motivated lawsuits that might chill dissent. The Chega bench insists its member will eventually face trial, yet the optics of another delay could erode public trust in both the party and the institution at large.

What the calendar looks like now

Unless Parliament replies sooner, the judge has pencilled in 12 January 2026 for the next hearing. That date sits two weeks before the chamber’s first plenary of the new year, intensifying pressure on MPs to settle the immunity question. Should authorisation arrive in time, witnesses—from digital-forensics experts to party staffers—are expected to testify over two consecutive days. A verdict could then emerge by early spring. If no permission is granted, prosecutors may have to shelve the case until Frazão leaves office, a prospect that could push any judgment well into the next decade.

A broader pattern: digital mudslinging in Portuguese politics

From Facebook live streams accusing mayors of kickbacks to anonymous Telegram channels leaking banking details, the courtroom stakes surrounding online speech are rising. Lawyers cite a wave of SLAPP-style suits—strategic litigation aimed at silencing critics—while activists warn of a chilling effect on investigative journalism. For citizens, the Frazão-Pureza saga is a test of whether the justice system can balance robust debate, personal dignity and the unique privileges of elected office. Whatever the outcome, the case is already shaping legislative talk about tightening, or perhaps loosening, the rules that govern what Portuguese politicians may safely say in 280 characters—or fewer.