Portugal’s parliament has ignited a national and European debate after approving a controversial bill to ban face veils worn for gender or religious reasons in most public spaces, a move widely seen as targeting the burqas and niqabs traditionally worn by some Muslim women. The legislation, proposed by the far-right Chega party, passed on October 17, 2025, with the support of the centre-right coalition, despite vocal opposition from left-wing lawmakers and concerns about the measure’s implications for religious freedom and gender equality.
The bill’s provisions are clear: anyone wearing a face veil in public could face fines ranging from 200 to 4,000 euros (approximately $234 to $4,670), while those found guilty of forcing another person to wear a face veil could be sentenced to up to three years in prison. However, the legislation does carve out exceptions—face veils would still be permitted in airplanes, diplomatic premises, and places of worship, according to reporting by Reuters and StratNews Global.
While Portugal has a small Muslim population and the wearing of full-face veils is extremely rare, the issue has become a flashpoint in political discourse, mirroring controversies seen across Europe. Chega’s leader, Andre Ventura, defended the bill in parliament by declaring, “We are today protecting female members of parliament, your daughters, our daughters, from having to use burqas in this country one day.” He later posted on X (formerly Twitter), “Today is a historic day for our democracy and for the safeguarding of our values, our identity and women’s rights.” These remarks were reported by Al Jazeera and Reuters.
Andreia Neto, a lawmaker from the ruling Social Democratic Party, echoed the bill’s stated focus on gender equality. “This is a debate on equality between men and women. No woman should be forced to veil her face,” she said before the vote, as quoted by Reuters and StratNews Global. The Chega party’s official rationale, cited in the bill, is that hiding the face “subjects individuals—especially women—to situations of exclusion and inferiority” and is incompatible with the principles of “liberty, equality, and human dignity.”
Despite these arguments, the measure has been fiercely contested by lawmakers on the left and by civil society groups. During the heated parliamentary session, several female members of left-wing parties confronted Ventura and his supporters, arguing that the ban incites discrimination and unfairly targets religious minorities. Two parties—the People-Animals-Nature party and the Together for the People party—abstained from the vote, with some members warning that the proposal could deepen social divisions and stigmatize Muslim women, as reported by Al Jazeera.
Pedro Delgado Alves, a center-left Socialist party lawmaker, voiced his opposition by asserting, “This initiative is used solely to target foreigners, those who have a different faith.” He acknowledged that no woman should be forced to wear a veil but criticized the far-right party’s approach as misguided and counterproductive, according to The Guardian.
Portugal is not alone in this debate. If the bill is signed into law, the country will join a growing list of European nations—including France, Austria, Belgium, and the Netherlands—that have enacted full or partial bans on face and head coverings in public. Chega explicitly cited France and other European Union countries’ rationales for such bans in its legislative proposal. These bans have been justified on grounds ranging from the promotion of gender equality to concerns about security and social cohesion, but they have also sparked accusations of Islamophobia and infringements on civil liberties.
Interestingly, the practical impact of the ban within Portugal is likely to be limited. Only a small minority of Muslim women in Europe cover their faces, and in Portugal, such veils are exceptionally rare. Nevertheless, the symbolic weight of the legislation has made it a lightning rod in the wider conversation about integration, religious expression, and women’s rights. As Reuters notes, full-face coverings such as niqabs and burqas have become a polarising issue across Europe, with some arguing that they symbolize gender discrimination or represent a security threat and should therefore be outlawed.
The bill’s journey is not over yet. President Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa still has the power to veto the legislation or refer it to the Constitutional Court for a legal review. The measure is also set to be discussed in the parliamentary committee on Constitutional Affairs, Rights, Freedoms, and Guarantees—a body charged with reviewing legislation related to constitutional principles. The president’s decision is eagerly awaited, as it could either cement Portugal’s alignment with other European countries on this contentious issue or open the door to further debate and potential legal challenges.
The debate in Portugal has unfolded against a broader European backdrop, where similar bans have faced legal scrutiny and social backlash. In France, for instance, the ban on face coverings has been upheld by the European Court of Human Rights, but it continues to be a subject of heated public discourse and legal challenges. Critics argue that such laws disproportionately affect Muslim women, restrict individual freedoms, and foster exclusion rather than integration. Proponents, on the other hand, insist that the bans are necessary to uphold secular values, safeguard public security, and promote gender equality.
Portugal’s Social Democratic Party, which supported the bill, framed the legislation as a necessary step to ensure that no woman is ever compelled to hide her face. Yet, opponents counter that the law is a solution in search of a problem, given the rarity of face veils in Portuguese society. They warn that the measure could set a precedent for further restrictions on religious and cultural expression, eroding the country’s tradition of tolerance and pluralism.
The controversy has also highlighted divisions within Portuguese politics. The far-right Chega party, which has seen its profile rise in recent years, positioned itself as the defender of “national values” and women’s rights, while left-leaning parties and civil society organizations accused it of exploiting fears about immigration and Islam for political gain. The center-right coalition’s support for the bill was crucial in securing its passage, underscoring the shifting dynamics of Portuguese politics and the growing influence of populist rhetoric.
As Portugal waits for President Marcelo Rebelo de Sousa’s next move, the fate of the face veil ban remains uncertain. Will the president endorse the bill, bringing Portugal in line with other European nations? Or will he heed the warnings of critics and send the measure back for further scrutiny? Whatever the outcome, the debate has already left a mark on Portuguese society, forcing a reckoning with questions of identity, inclusion, and the limits of state intervention in matters of faith and personal choice.
For now, the country stands at a crossroads, its parliament’s decision reverberating well beyond its borders, as Europe continues to grapple with the complex intersection of security, equality, and freedom in an increasingly diverse continent.
