June 10, 2026
“When I think of the sea, the sea returns
to a certain form it only had in me—
for where it ends, the heart begins.”
Vitorino Nemésio was born here, on this island, and in these verses he expressed something that perhaps only someone raised between the Atlantic and the open skies of the Azores could write: the idea that the sea is not merely a landscape but a condition, a way of being in the world. The sea is not only the geography that surrounds us. The sea is memory, destiny, and character. It was before the Atlantic that we learned to look farther. While others saw the end of the land, the Portuguese saw a path, and that vision shaped our collective soul—resilient in the face of storms, humble before immensity, and determined before the unknown. The sea taught us to depart, but also to return. It taught us the value of saudade, that uniquely Portuguese word that carries distance and affection at the same time. It taught us that a people small in territory can be great in ambition. To speak of the sea is to speak of Portuguese identity. That is also why I wished to be here, in Angra do Heroísmo, in the heart of the Atlantic, to celebrate Portugal Day.
The Azores occupy a singular place in our identity, our history, and our future. They place us at a strategic point in the relationship between Europe and the American continent, between the North Atlantic and the great maritime and air routes that structure the global order. For that reason, this is a place that compels us to assume special responsibilities and duties in affirming our sovereignty, our interests, and our strategic future. Such responsibilities must always be exercised with respect for international commitments, whether with individual nations or with the international community under the Charter of the United Nations. I would also like to reaffirm that European strategic autonomy is not contradictory to transatlantic defense. It is its natural complement. The future of Europe and North America remains interconnected, united within a shared community of security whose fundamental pillar is NATO. The Atlantic is itself a crucial component of European strategic autonomy, politically, economically, energetically, technologically, and in matters of security and defense. Autonomy does not mean isolation. It means freedom of decision and responsibility, while strengthening cooperation with our allies. The security of European nations can only be guaranteed in partnership with those allies, through balance, reciprocity, and respect for sovereignty, all grounded in enduring values: peace, freedom, human rights, and multilateralism. These are the values that guide the work of Portugal’s Armed Forces both at home and on missions throughout the world. They are one of the essential pillars of our democratic state, guaranteeing the sovereignty of the Republic, the integrity of our territory, and the freedom of the Portuguese people. When storms gather on the horizon and fear crosses the land, they remain steadfast in defense of peace rather than war. To them I express my gratitude for their loyalty, dedication, and love of Portugal.
Today we also celebrate fifty years of regional autonomy in the Azores and Madeira. For that reason, after Luxembourg and my presence here in the Azores, I will travel tomorrow to Madeira. This presence in both archipelagos reflects a principle that I consider fundamental: Portugal is greater when it is plural. National unity is not achieved through uniformity, but through the recognition of difference. A country capable of managing its own internal diversity is better prepared to face challenges from the outside. When the Constitution of 1976 established political and administrative autonomy for the autonomous regions, many doubted its success. They questioned whether islands could govern themselves effectively, whether territories fragmented by geography and distant from centers of power could prosper, and whether decentralization was compatible with national cohesion. Fifty years later, the answer given by the Azores and Madeira is unequivocal. Autonomy did not weaken Portugal. It strengthened it. It created democratic institutions, developed policies adapted to local realities, and nurtured strong regional identities that enrich rather than diminish Portuguese identity. Yet this anniversary should not be merely an exercise in nostalgia. It must also be an invitation to clarity. Fifty years of autonomy reveal what remains unfinished: persistent inequalities between the mainland and the islands, the continuing burden of insularity on families and businesses, and the need for a financing model that reflects more accurately and more fairly the realities of these regions.
June 10 has been celebrated as the Day of Portugal, Camões, and the Portuguese Communities since 1978. The decision to unite these three elements was neither administrative nor accidental. It reflected a profound understanding of how the Portuguese see themselves, their history, and their future. Today we celebrate far more than a nation approaching nine centuries of existence. We celebrate a historical community, a collective memory, a language, and a sense of belonging that has endured wars, crises, regime changes, separations, and reunions. We celebrate Portugal with all its greatness and contradictions, its failures and its extraordinary resilience. We celebrate Luís de Camões, perhaps the greatest expression of Portuguese consciousness. No poet has written more profoundly about what we were, what we aspired to become, and what we continue to seek. After Camões, no European culture produced a national epic of comparable human, symbolic, and historical depth. To invoke Camões is not to retreat into the past. It is to recognize a legacy that continues to illuminate our present. It is thanks to Camões that Natália Correia could write, recalling the Azores, “It was through tongues of fire that I learned to speak.” Camões remains among us because he wrote about what remains at the center of human experience: fear and ambition, love and loss, courage and doubt, glory and failure, greatness and fragility. Above all, he taught us that nations are not built solely upon victories but also upon their capacity to confront their own contradictions. In a country that sometimes seems divided or dissatisfied with itself, we have all found ourselves in Camões—in a verse, an image, a phrase, or a passage remembered by heart. In one of the most celebrated passages of Os Lusíadas, he asks where a frail human being might find refuge, where such a small creature of the earth might secure his brief life. We are that fragile creature, searching for a place where we belong and where we feel protected. That place is Portugal. To celebrate Camões five hundred years after his birth is also a way of being Portuguese, because he wrote all of us into existence. It is also a celebration of a language that inspired Vergílio Ferreira to write one of the most beautiful definitions ever given of language: “A language is the place from which one sees the world. From my language, one sees the sea.”
We also celebrate the Portuguese communities spread throughout the world, both those who live within our national territory and those who carry Portugal with them across continents, generations, and distances. The diaspora is not an appendix to Portugal. It is one of our greatest riches. Only a few days ago, in Luxembourg, I was reminded of this truth when I met Portuguese citizens and descendants who have built their lives at the heart of Europe without ceasing to be profoundly Portuguese. These communities are united by language, shared references, and a cultural and emotional heritage that time has transformed but never destroyed. To all of them, wherever they may be, I say today: Portugal thinks of you. Portugal needs you. And Portugal will always welcome you with open arms if and when you choose to return.
We live in a time of trenches. The anxieties we feel regarding the economy, geopolitics, urban security, the protection of the vulnerable, and the practical concerns of daily life create the temptation to choose sides, close ranks, and build walls. In such a time, we increasingly lack what I call the words of the middle—words born not between walls but in open spaces, words that invite dialogue rather than conflict. These are words of tolerance rather than exclusion, openness rather than distance. They create bridges between people, institutions, and ideas. They are the antidote to the virus of polarization that seeks to replace debate, argument, and negotiation. These words belong to a vocabulary that makes dialogue possible because they create the willingness for dialogue to occur. They speak of the common good, of collective purpose, of a united country, and of the freedom to think and create. Or, as Ruy Belo wrote when imagining a future Portugal, they speak of “a country where the pure bird is possible.” My election as President was marked by the desire to unite Portugal and the Portuguese people. But unity does not mean artificial unanimity. It means recognizing that the homeland is common ground and that there is room upon it for everyone. Democracy cannot remain strong if political parties fail to recognize that politics, while a place of disagreement, must also be a place of compromise and mutual respect.
This is a time that asks us for courage—the courage to make difficult decisions without yielding to populism, to speak the truth even when it is uncomfortable, to invest in the future even when the present weighs heavily upon us, and to defend long-term interests even when short-term pressures dominate public life. It is also a time that asks for humility—the humility to recognize that no one possesses all the answers, that no region or community is expendable, and that no generation owns the country. We inherited Portugal and have a responsibility to leave it in better condition for those who follow us. Yet this is also a time that demands ambition. The ambition not to settle for less than we deserve. The ambition of a people who know their value and refuse to accept perpetual postponement. I look at Portugal and see a country that possesses more than it often recognizes in itself. We have researchers and scientists whose work is celebrated internationally, universities that attract students from around the world, and companies that innovate and compete successfully in global markets. We have a culture that travels far beyond our borders through language, literature, music, cinema, and the arts. We have a language spoken by three hundred million people across every continent, a language that serves as an emotional bond, a diplomatic instrument, and an economic asset whose full value we have yet to realize. We have extraordinarily talented young people, educated, multilingual, and capable of moving naturally between cultures. The problem is not talent. It never has been. The problem is that talent too often leaves because Portugal does not yet offer the conditions it needs to flourish. Education has advanced more rapidly than wages. Housing has become inaccessible to many. Too often knowledge and innovation are not rewarded as they should be. This must change. Portugal cannot surrender to fatalism or wait for miracles. What is needed are decisions that depend upon ourselves. We need policies that retain talent rather than export it, wages that reflect productivity and qualifications, housing that allows young people to build lives in the country where they were born or studied, and a state that simplifies rather than complicates, anticipates rather than reacts, and plans beyond the immediate horizon. We need businesses that invest in research and development, universities connected to the productive economy, and research centers capable of transforming knowledge into solutions. Above all, we need a culture of trust. Countries that grow sustainably have one thing in common: their citizens trust one another, trust their institutions, and are willing to take risks together because they believe others will fulfill their responsibilities.
The present cannot become a barrier, because Portuguese history repeatedly demonstrates an extraordinary capacity for reinvention. Time and again we have transformed limitations into opportunities, discovered new routes when familiar paths closed, and become greater than circumstances seemed to permit. I did not invent this Portugal. It exists in the quiet labor of millions of people who strive every day to improve their lives and those of their children. It exists in the Azores, Madeira, the mainland, and in the diaspora that remains profoundly Portuguese despite distance. It exists in all those who build this country with competence and dignity, often without receiving the recognition they deserve.
I will end where I began, with the Atlantic that both defines and challenges us. Emanuel Félix, born here in Angra do Heroísmo, once wrote: “We are heirs to a memory of sunken treasures, and we harpoon hope.” Yes, that is what we are: heirs to a long memory of achievement and failure, greatness and fragility. Yet we project hope into the future with the determination of those who know that the future can be shaped by our choices, our courage, and our will. Hope is one of those words of the middle that resists polarization. It is one of the finest words in the new vocabulary of the future we seek to create. May this Portugal Day renew our confidence in our country, in our capacity to create, innovate, and face the future with courage. It is, ultimately, a continuation of Portugal’s Atlantic vocation: openness to the world, dialogue, and humanity. For Portugal, like the sea, is made of depth, movement, and infinity.
Long live Portugal. Thank you very much.
(English Translation by Diniz Borges)
Photos: first one from Presidência da República; the remaining photos from JEdgardo Vieira.
