Portugal’s parliament has ignited a fierce national debate by approving a bill that would ban full-face veils—such as burqas and niqabs—in most public settings. The legislation, introduced by the far-right Chega party and passed on October 19, 2025, marks a pivotal moment for the country, thrusting questions of religious freedom, social integration, and national identity into the spotlight.
The proposed law, which still requires the signature of President Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa or a possible referral to the Constitutional Court, would make Portugal the latest in a growing list of European nations—including France, Austria, Belgium, and the Netherlands—to restrict or ban face coverings in public. Under the measure, individuals found wearing such garments could face fines ranging from €200 to €4,000, while anyone found forcing another person to wear a full-face veil could receive a prison sentence of up to three years, according to reporting by Al Jazeera and other outlets.
Chega, the driving force behind the bill, has framed the legislation as a necessary safeguard for gender equality, public security, and the preservation of Portuguese cultural values. During a heated parliamentary debate, Chega leader André Ventura declared, “We are today protecting female members of parliament, your daughters, our daughters, from having to use burqas in this country one day.” Ventura further emphasized, “Whoever arrives in Portugal, no matter where they come from, with whatever customs or religion they have, must above all comply with, respect, and ensure respect for the customs and values of this country.”
Supporters of the bill argue that full-face coverings contribute to social exclusion and undermine ideals of equality and human dignity. This rationale closely mirrors arguments made in other European Union countries that have enacted similar bans. According to Portugal Pulse, the proposal received broad support from conservative and right-leaning parties, including the Social Democratic Party (PSD), Liberal Initiative (IL), and CDS-PP, all of whom cited women’s rights and security issues as key motivations. The former PSD president, Rui Rio, weighed in on social media, writing, “I do not understand the controversy around the prohibition of wearing the burqa in public spaces. It is a measure of basic common sense considering our cultural and civilizational values. Those who wish to live in Portugal must, obviously, respect them.”
Yet, the bill has not sailed through parliament without resistance. Opposition has been fierce, particularly from lawmakers representing the centre-left Socialist Party (PS), as well as parties such as Livre, Bloco de Esquerda (BE), and the Portuguese Communist Party (PCP). These opponents warn that the measure unfairly targets a tiny religious minority and threatens to erode religious freedom and individual rights. Pedro Delgado Alves, a Socialist MP, argued, “This initiative is used solely to target foreigners, those who have a different faith.” The parties PAN and JPP abstained from the vote, reflecting the complexity and divisiveness of the issue.
One of the most vocal critics of the legislation has been David Munir, the imam of the Lisbon Central Mosque. Speaking to Lusa and other media on October 17, Munir accused politicians of “blinding the Portuguese people” with what he described as an Islamophobic and anti-immigrant discourse. He pointed out that “a handful of Muslim women” wear the burqa in Portugal, while “a dozen or so” choose the niqab. Munir questioned the security justification for the ban: “Practically speaking, how many Muslim women have been caught with their faces covered doing something that jeopardized security? None.” He also assured that there have been no cases of Muslim women refusing to identify themselves to authorities while wearing face coverings.
The new law, if enacted, would apply to most public spaces, but with specific exceptions. According to Al Jazeera and India Today, face coverings would still be permitted on airplanes, in diplomatic facilities, and in places of worship. The measure is explicit in its intention to prohibit “the use, in public spaces, of clothing intended to cover or hinder the display of the face,” while focusing particular attention on garments worn for gender or religious reasons.
Portugal’s move is not occurring in isolation. Across Europe, the question of face veil bans has become a flashpoint for broader debates about integration, secularism, and the rights of religious minorities. France was the first European country to ban full-face veils in public in 2011, a move that sparked both praise and protest. Since then, Austria, Belgium, and the Netherlands have followed suit with their own restrictions. Proponents of these measures often cite concerns about security and social cohesion, while critics argue they stigmatize Muslim women and infringe on basic freedoms.
In Portugal, the controversy is sharpened by the fact that full-face veils are exceedingly rare. As Munir and others have noted, only a small number of Muslim women in the country wear the burqa or niqab. This raises the question: Is the legislation addressing a pressing social issue, or is it a symbolic gesture aimed at signaling a particular vision of national identity? For many critics, the answer is clear. They see the bill as a political maneuver that scapegoats a vulnerable minority and distracts from more substantive challenges facing the country.
For supporters, however, the law represents a stand for the values they believe define Portugal—values of openness, transparency, and gender equality. As Rui Rio put it, “It is a measure of basic common sense.” The debate has thus become a proxy for deeper anxieties about immigration, religious diversity, and the future of Portuguese society.
President Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa now faces a pivotal decision. He can sign the bill into law, veto it, or refer it to the Constitutional Court for further scrutiny. The outcome will not only determine the fate of the proposed ban, but also send a powerful signal about Portugal’s stance on religious freedom, minority rights, and the meaning of national values in a changing Europe.
As the country awaits the president’s decision, the debate over the face veil ban continues to reverberate far beyond the walls of parliament. For some, it is a necessary assertion of cultural norms; for others, a troubling step toward exclusion. Either way, Portugal stands at a crossroads—one that will shape its identity for years to come.
