This Easter Monday had a particular meaning for me. It marked the eve of my 50th birthday, celebrated — not by chance — in one of the places where I was, and continue to be, happiest.
But distance and time also helped and continue to help us see more clearly. And what we see, in too many cases, is a structural problem: the inability to leave.
In Portugal — as in other democracies — a silently accepted habit was established: that of remaining indefinitely in places of power. In politics, in companies, in institutions, examples multiply of those who, even after completing long cycles — and even after retirement — insist on remaining.
It’s not about experience. Nor of accumulated merit. Much less indispensable.
Often, it is a culture of occupation: places that are no longer used as a service and start to be defended as property.
The result is known. Generations are blocked. Access to new protagonists is closed. Innovation is delayed. And, even more seriously, the idea that leaving is losing is normalized — when, in fact, leaving is often the ultimate form of responsibility.
Politics is perhaps the most visible — and most worrying — example. In a country that discusses so much renewal, figures persist who move between positions, institutions and spheres of influence as if public space belonged to them by acquired right. It doesn’t belong.
No healthy democracy is built with captive places.
But the problem cannot be solved by abrupt replacements, nor by devaluing those who gave a lot. There is a requirement for balance here.
On the one hand, it is essential to ensure responsible transitions that preserve memory and ensure continuity. On the other hand, it is urgent to affirm a simple principle: everyone’s time must have an end.
And this end is not a punishment. It is part of the social contract itself.
A mature society does not abandon its elders — it values them, integrates them, listens to them. But do not confuse this with their indefinite stay in decision-making centers.
There is a moment when continuing stops contributing.
And there is a moment when going out becomes a duty.
One day after reaching the “tenderness of 50” — in an adaptation by Paco — this evidence becomes clearer. Not out of tiredness, but out of lucidity. The country made its way — insufficient, sometimes erratic, but real. And he will continue to do so, but only if he knows how to make space. It’s not enough to call out the usual ones — those who affront us as we (also) have seen recently.
Knowing how to leave is not a gesture of weakness.
It’s an act of maturity. And, in many cases, courage.
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