When the soldiers of the Armed Forces Movement took to the streets of Lisbon on April 25, 1974, overthrowing the dictatorship, they were not only changing Portugal. They were also altering the destiny of millions of Africans subjected to the Portuguese colonial system.

For decades, Portugal had insisted on a colonial war in Angola, Mozambique, and Guinea-Bissau, refusing to recognize the right to self-determination of African peoples. The human and financial cost had become unsustainable, both for the Africans and for the Portuguese soldiers themselves, who were sent to an endless war.

Thousands of young Portuguese returned home scarred both physically and psychologically, while in the colonies, destruction affected entire populations, villages, and local economies.

The Carnation Revolution also arose from this weariness. Many officers realized that there was no possible military solution to maintain the colonial empire. The MFA's own program advocated three central axes: democratization, decolonization, and development. Decolonization was not a side consequence—it was a central part of the revolution.

For the African liberation movements — MPLA, FRELIMO, PAIGC, MLSTP, and PAICV — the 25th of April opened a historic door. What previously depended solely on armed struggle began to find a political solution. The change in Lisbon undermined the colonial model and forced Portugal to recognize what it had refused to accept for years.

Guinea-Bissau had already unilaterally declared independence in 1973, but it was after the Portuguese revolution that international recognition gained new momentum. In 1975, Mozambique, Cape Verde, São Tomé and Príncipe, and Angola gained independence.

The end of Portuguese colonialism was not a gift from Lisbon. It was the result of the combination of African resistance and internal rupture in Portugal. Without the anti-colonial struggle, perhaps there would have been no April 25th; without the April 25th, independence would have been longer and bloodier.

Independence brought what no colonial reform could offer: sovereignty. For the first time, the Portuguese-speaking African peoples formally decided their own destiny, defined their own policies, and built their own states.

This moment had immense value. It wasn't just political; it was psychological and civilizational. Independence meant recovering historical dignity, affirming distinct identities, and breaking with centuries of imperial subordination. It also meant giving the African people back the possibility of writing their own narrative without external tutelage.

But the legacy they inherited was brutal. The colonial structures had been built to extract wealth, not to develop local societies. Most of the independent territories inherited very low levels of education, weak industrialization, dependent economies, and profound social inequalities.

In many cases, there was a lack of qualified personnel, well-structured universities, and a public administration prepared for the new reality. Furthermore, the Portuguese departure was swift and chaotic. In Angola and Mozambique, independence was followed by devastating civil wars. Instead of the expected peace, many citizens found decades of violence, destruction, and structural backwardness.

Angola experienced a prolonged war until 2002. Mozambique faced armed conflict for years. Guinea-Bissau plunged into almost permanent political instability, continuing to this day. São Tomé and Príncipe and Cape Verde had less violent experiences, but remained marked by economic vulnerability and external dependence.

Thus, political independence did not automatically mean social emancipation. The State changed hands, but the daily lives of many continued to be dominated by poverty, precariousness, and exclusion. The national flag was won, but material freedom remained postponed.

This is where the most difficult question arises: what does true freedom mean? If a citizen can vote but lacks access to healthcare, education, employment, or decent food, are they truly free? If a country is sovereign but remains economically dependent and socially unequal, is that independence real?

Political freedom is essential, but it is not enough. It needs to be accompanied by social justice. This is precisely what many African leaders and thinkers have advocated from the beginning: independence without development risks being merely a change of administration.

In many of the PALOP countries, natural wealth coexists with extreme poverty. Angola possesses oil, diamonds, and strategic minerals, but millions of people continue to live in vulnerable situations. Mozambique has immense gas and resources, but faces profound social crises. Guinea-Bissau and São Tomé and Príncipe struggle with persistent structural weaknesses.

Inequality has become one of the greatest contradictions since independence. In many cases, the political elite has replaced the colonial elite without profoundly altering the real distribution of opportunities. Access to wealth, land, quality education, and decision-making centers often remains concentrated in the hands of a few groups.

Freedom is no longer just a matter of national sovereignty; it has also become a matter of effective citizenship: access, dignity, and social mobility. A young person without a job, a mother without access to a hospital, a farmer without a market, and a child without school experience only a formal freedom.

Therefore, when we talk about celebrating April 25th in the PALOP countries, it's not enough to simply remember independence. It's necessary to ask whether the average citizen feels that freedom in their food, in their child's school, in the hospital, in their salary, and in the possibility of dreaming about the future. Without that, freedom remains incomplete.

The importance of April 25th remains valid precisely because its promise has not yet been fulfilled. It is not just about commemorating a historical date, but about understanding that freedom is a process and not an isolated event. The revolution overthrew a dictatorship and paved the way for independence, but it did not automatically solve the structural problems that would follow.

Today, many young people from the PALOP countries were born decades after independence and view the 25th of April as something distant, almost abstract. For them, the question is not about colonialism, but about unemployment, corruption, housing, and the future. Historical memory only remains alive when it engages with the concrete problems of the present.

This does not diminish the historical value of the date—on the contrary, it makes it more demanding. It means that April should be measured not only by what it overthrew, but by what still needs to be built. Freedom needs strong institutions, functional justice, public transparency, and real opportunities.

There is also the risk of historical revisionism: transforming memory into empty ceremonies or reducing independence to a simple administrative act. April 25th was a profound rupture, and the African anti-colonial struggle was a central part of that historical transformation.

Celebrating April without acknowledging Africa is to amputate the very history of the revolution. Celebrating independence without questioning social justice is to reduce freedom to a mere symbol. History cannot, and should not, be used only as institutional decoration or political rhetoric.

Perhaps the true legacy of April is this: to compel each generation to ask whether it is truly free. As long as that question remains necessary, the 25th of April will continue to live on.

Five decades later, the PALOP countries continue to live between conquest and promise. Independence was real, irreversible, and historic, but full freedom remains under construction. The 25th of April has not lost its importance; today it is perhaps even more important, because it forces us to confront what remains to be accomplished.

A people is not free simply because they choose their rulers; they are truly free because they can live with dignity, justice, and hope. The revolution opened the door, but the journey continues. And perhaps the most honest question is not whether April 25th is over, but whether we ever truly stopped needing it.