Portugal’s Banif Savers Demand PM Talks After Nine Years of Empty Promises

Almost nine years after Banif’s spectacular collapse, the people who lost their savings in the bank’s high-risk products say they are no closer to a cheque—or even a conversation—than on day one. Their latest move: a public demand for a face-to-face meeting with Prime Minister Luís Montenegro, accusing his government of delivering novas promessas velhas—shiny pledges that quickly fade.

Snapshot of the Standoff

• 1,900 households still waiting for redress

• €242 M claimed in total losses

• July 2024: last official meeting with Finance Ministry

• September 2024 follow-up promised, never happened

• 18 Dec 2025: formal letter sent to São Bento—still unanswered

A Decade of Broken Bridges

When Banif was resolved in December 2015, the State poured almost €3 B into the operation and transferred viable business to Santander Totta. What looked like a firebreak for financial stability became, for retail investors, a slow-burning ordeal. Dozens of grupos de trabalho were announced, and both PS and PSD governments pledged “swift solutions”. Yet every roadmap stalled once the headlines faded, leaving the so-called Lesados do Banif with little more than power-point promises.

Silence from São Bento

The current government’s most recent encounter with the group dates back to 3 July 2024. According to participant notes, Finance officials “committed to accelerate” a compensation mechanism and pencilled in a new session for September of that year. “Nada.” That is how the association sums up the 15 months that followed—no calls, no e-mails, no schedule. Their 18 December letter to the Prime Minister pointedly “thanked” the government for the absolutely nothing achieved so far, a line that has since gone viral on Portuguese social media.

The Numbers Everyone Knows—and Nobody Pays

The association’s latest proposal would cost taxpayers €169.6 M, covering 1,900 investors under a tiered formula: recover 75 % of smaller tickets (under €500k) and 50 % of larger ones, with a €250k cap. Independent audits commissioned by the Ordem dos Advogados in 2019 had already validated €230 M in dubious sales. Meanwhile, the resolution vehicle Oitante has repaid just €176.2 M to the Resolution Fund—barely 36 % of what the Fund injected—raising questions about where fresh money for victims might come from.

Courtroom or Committee Room?

Frustrated investors are preparing a class-action lawsuit against the State, targeting the €242 M they say was lost through regulatory failures. Legal advisers have also floated suits against the Banco de Portugal for skipping a mandatory “least cost” study, and even against a private TV network whose 2015 scoop allegedly triggered the fatal bank run. For now, the association keeps litigation on hold, hoping political pressure can still force a negotiated payout—but insiders admit the patience reservoir “is almost dry”.

Why the Gridlock Persists

Financial-law experts point to three perennial hurdles:

Moral hazard fears—Treasury officials worry a generous precedent could unleash waves of claims from other bank collapses (BES, BPP).

EU state-aid rules—any publicly funded scheme must pass Brussels’ scrutiny, and governments remain wary after contentious BES compensation battles.

Budget optics—with the deficit target already tight, a nine-figure cheque to Banif victims is a political hard sell outside Madeira and the Azores, where most investors live.

What Matters for Portuguese Taxpayers

Beginning 1 January 2026, the Resolution Fund starts paying interest on a €352.9 M State loan used in the 2015 rescue—money that ultimately circles back to Portuguese banks and, by extension, their customers. Any future compensation package would likely draw from the same pool, meaning every mortgage holder in Portugal could feel the cost through higher bank levies or slimmer credit spreads.

Looking Ahead

The ball is now squarely in the government’s court. If Montenegro grants the requested meeting in early 2026, he could resurrect talks before the litigation clock strikes midnight. Should he stay silent, lawyers for the victims say they will file suit “within the first quarter”. Either way, Portugal faces a stark choice: keep the decade-long wound open, or finally stitch it—at a price.

Key Takeaway: Without swift political engagement, the Banif saga is poised to migrate from Salão Nobre to the courtroom, adding legal costs to an already expensive chapter in Portugal’s post-crisis banking history.