Portugal's Communists Rebuke Montenegro Over Trump-Aligned Defence Pivot

The clash between Portugal’s Communist leader and the centre-right government has boiled over once again. Paulo Raimundo accuses Prime Minister Luís Montenegro of kowtowing to Donald Trump, while critics of both men worry about the signals Lisbon is sending to Washington, Brussels and the Portuguese electorate at a moment when every decision on defence, trade and Middle-East diplomacy feels combustible.

A Flashpoint in Viana do Alentejo

Standing in a sun-bleached schoolyard in Viana do Alentejo, Paulo Raimundo seized the microphone and warned that Portugal must not become “an appendage of the United States or NATO.” The secretary-general of the PCP declared that Montenegro is “bent before Trump’s madness,” adding that the prime minister has “supported everything that comes from Trump.” The rhetoric was fiery even by Communist standards, yet the timing mattered: early October, as local candidates criss-crossed the Alentejo ahead of municipal elections and the government attempted to calm nerves after an embarrassing dispute over American F-35 fighters refuelling in the Azores.

The Gaza Blueprint That Sparked the Row

At the centre of Raimundo’s tirade sits Donald Trump’s newly floated “road-map for Gaza.” Montenegro hailed the document as a possible “starting point for a just and lasting peace.” Raimundo dismissed it as a business-driven proposal with zero credibility, crafted to advance the former US president’s personal interests rather than the welfare of palestinianos or ucranianos. While details of Trump’s plan remain sketchy, the communists regard any endorsement from Lisbon as a betrayal of Portugal’s traditional support for Palestinian self-determination. The optics are even starker because the row arrives amid images of Israeli air-strikes broadcast nightly into Portuguese living rooms, amplifying public sensitivity to anything that hints at complicity.

Lisbon’s Tightrope Between NATO Commitments and Non-Alignment

Montenegro’s coalition argues it is merely safeguarding Portugal’s strategic alliances. In June the prime minister pledged a rapid jump to 2 % of GDP on defence, four years ahead of schedule. The government also approved €1 B in extra spending to satisfy NATO benchmarks, a move warmly applauded by Trump’s entourage during the alliance summit in The Hague. At home, however, the acceleration re-energised parties on the left who question whether defence surges should trump pressing social needs such as housing and health-care staffing. The communist critique gained an unexpected echo when mainstream Socialists and the eco-liberal Livre joined calls for transparency after the F-35 stop-over at Lajes Field. Defence Minister Nuno Melo blamed a paperwork glitch, yet the episode underlined how tightly Portuguese decision-makers are now enmeshed in Washington’s power projection.

Domestic Political Reverberations

The fallout has delivered rare alignment across segments of the opposition. PS leader José Luís Carneiro labelled the foreign-ministry lapse over the fighter jets “grave.” Bloco de Esquerda and Livre demanded Melo’s resignation, warning that the refuelling made Portugal “potentially complicit in crimes of war.” For Raimundo, these converging critiques offered fresh oxygen; his party framed the F-35 affair as proof that the centre-right majority is willing to “sacrifice sovereignty for Atlantic favour.” Montenegro tried to cool temperatures by portraying the row as “campaign theatrics,” yet parliamentary committees have scheduled hearings that could drag the issue well into the winter budget cycle.

What Is Really at Stake for Portugal

Beyond partisan skirmishes lies a strategic dilemma familiar to every Portuguese government since the Carnation Revolution: how to blend Atlanticism with an independent foreign policy cherished by the electorate. The administration sees Trump—love him or hate him—as the occupant of the White House until at least 2029, and therefore a gatekeeper to trade, investment and security guarantees. Critics respond that “predictability” and “rule-based order”—values Trump openly questions—matter more to a small economy reliant on tourism and EU structural funds. The true test may emerge later this year when Lisbon decides whether to revive a shelved F-35 acquisition or pivot toward a European platform, and when parliament votes on Montenegro’s request to deploy a naval frigate to the Red Sea for an EU maritime mission.

Diplomats whisper that Washington is watching the F-35 hearings as a barometer of Lisbon’s reliability. At the same time, Brussels is eyeing the episode to gauge whether Portugal can hit its fiscal targets while pumping billions into defence. Against that backdrop, Raimundo’s accusation of “being bent to Trump’s madness” may sound like familiar Communist theatre. Yet the controversy surfaces a broader anxiety: whether Portugal can remain both a loyal NATO ally and a credible voice for multilateral peace efforts—from Faixa de Gaza to Kyiv—without losing sight of domestic priorities that voters will judge at the next ballot box.