I have observed, with genuine satisfaction, that many local municipalities are once again announcing programs to commemorate the April 25 Revolution, striving to engage their communities in an effort to preserve memory—an effort worthy of recognition and praise. If there is any date that deserves a permanent place in the civic calendar, it is this one. Every effort must be made to ensure that it remains so.

At first glance, the Revolution of April 25 appeared to be little more than a military uprising against a government and an authoritarian regime that sustained a colonial war on three fronts—Guinea, Angola, and Mozambique. Unable to defend itself, the regime surrendered, summoning General António de Spínola to receive power at the Carmo barracks, surrounded by soldiers of the Armed Forces Movement and by countless civilians—many of them young—who openly defied the Movement’s instructions to remain at home. In the square before the headquarters of the political police, the PIDE/DGS, students and workers also gathered. It was there that innocent blood was spilled, victims of gunfire from the building’s windows. Among them was our João, from Santo António beyond Capelas, whom I knew from gatherings at the Casa dos Açores.

Yet the social tensions were so profound, so long repressed, that what followed soon became a true Revolution. Whether the moment called simply for the eager embrace of newly restored democratic freedoms—freedoms that emerged immediately on April 25 with the abolition of press censorship and the establishment of fundamental civic rights, including freedom of association and demonstration—or whether it demanded a deeper transformation of Portuguese society in a socialist or even communist direction, remains a question destined for perpetual debate.

It is precisely this unresolved tension that keeps some supporters of April 25 in a vigilant state, guarding the achievements born of revolutionary fervor and refusing to reconsider their viability in the changing realities of the present. For them, April 25 has become a mythic date, the symbol of a social revolution that has gradually eroded before their eyes. One fears that such longing may condemn them to a prolonged unease, without hope of return.

In recent years, however, new critics of April 25 have emerged. They point to the shortcomings of the present and advocate a return to the past, painting it in seductive tones of order and progress. But that supposed order was the product of censorship and political repression, and as for progress, it is doubtful that many would willingly exchange their current circumstances for those that existed before the Revolution. What exists in these arguments is often a mixture of ignorance and resentment—resentment that, in some cases, may be justified, yet ultimately lost in extremism and a striking lack of nuance. These critics, of course, do not celebrate April 25—if anything, they mourn it.

As for myself, and many others, we celebrate April 25 as the foundational moment of a new democratic life firmly rooted in our country. In the Atlantic islands, it made possible a profound transformation: Constitutional Autonomy.

While I held direct political responsibilities in the Azores, I always resisted the idea of allowing extremist parties to claim ownership of this date. And so, after the military parade that once marked the occasion—now long abandoned—I would gather the most active members at the headquarters of the PSD/Açores for a Toast to Freedom.

Today, however, such gestures are no longer enough. It is necessary to state clearly that we in the Azores remain steadfast in our commitment to Freedom, Democracy, and Autonomy—values that arise from one another and converge in their purpose. We must continue to affirm what is ours, what belongs to us, and what demands our vigilance and care.

João Bosco Mota Amaral was president of the Regional Government of the Azores between 1967 and 1995.