Portugal’s tax courts hit 861-day backlog

A tax case in a Portuguese administrative court now takes an average of 861 days to resolve. These courts clear just 48 per cent of incoming cases each year, so the backlog keeps growing (Executive Digest, Commission). The European Commission flagged the deterioration in its 2026 Rule of Law Report, published on 17 July.

The same report raised a second concern: whether Portugal's state news agency Lusa still has enough independence from the government that now owns and governs it. Together, the two findings expose a gap at the centre of EU oversight. Brussels can see institutional decay. It can only force change when a separate EU law turns that concern into jurisdiction.

Two-Year Waits and Who They Protect

Administrative and tax courts handle the practical boundary between citizens and the state: tax assessments, licensing decisions, public contracts. When those courts take more than two years per case and resolve fewer than half their caseload, the state's decisions become effectively unchallengeable. That protects governments and tax authorities whose rulings stand uncorrected while plaintiffs wait.

Portugal fits a wider southern European pattern of slow justice. The Commission flagged Italy's proceedings as still "among the longest in the EU" (Euronews Italia). Spain drew criticism for excessive duration in high-level corruption cases (elDiario.es). Greece showed only limited progress on corruption prosecutions (gr.euronews).

The annual report covers justice systems, anti-corruption, media freedom and institutional checks across all 27 member states. It creates a paper trail and reputational pressure. It does not trigger sanctions, funding cuts or court proceedings by itself.

Lusa and the One Law That Might Bite

The news agency situation runs closer to enforceable EU law. After private shareholders withdrew from Lusa, the Portuguese state filled the gap and now controls 100 per cent of the agency's capital. New statutes approved in January 2026 gave the government power to appoint board directors and added political representatives to an expanded advisory council (CMPF).

Lusa journalists protested, warning the new structure let government appointees shape editorial decisions. The Portuguese Journalists' Union then filed a formal complaint in Brussels. It alleged the statutes breach the European Media Freedom Act (the EU's 2024 regulation requiring editorial independence for public-service media providers), specifically its rules on independent governance and protection from political interference (NUNS, Regulation 2024/1083).

A complaint is not a finding. The Commission has not declared Portugal in breach. But the EMFA gives Brussels a concrete legal hook that the annual report alone does not: if the statutes violate binding EU media-freedom rules, the Commission can open infringement proceedings under Article 258 TFEU (its route for taking a member state to the Court of Justice over EU-law breaches).

The Political Cover Game

Hungary's government moved quickly to use the report's breadth as a shield. Minister János Bóka framed the findings as evidence that rule-of-law problems exist everywhere in the EU, not just in Budapest (Origo, a government-aligned outlet). Independent Hungarian media pushed back: Hungary's situation is materially different because its EU funding is already frozen under separate budget-protection rules (the conditionality regulation, which lets the EU withhold money when rule-of-law failures threaten EU spending) and recovery-fund milestones that carry real financial consequences (HVG, Regulation 2020/2092).

This argument helps governments under harder EU pressure muddy the line between countries facing soft recommendations and those facing frozen funds. It works as political messaging. It changes nothing legally. The annual report applies the same diagnostic framework everywhere. The consequences diverge because they depend on separate instruments, each with its own legal tests.

Where Oversight Becomes Paperwork

Portugal's case shows how the EU system is built. The Commission can identify a court system resolving fewer than half its cases. It can record that a state news agency's governance structure alarms the journalists who work there. It can publish all of this across 27 member states, giving domestic reformers a common reference point.

Without a treaty breach, a budget trigger, or a media-law violation, the Commission cannot force Portugal to move. The Lusa complaint now sits with the Commission's legal services: does it warrant an infringement case? If it does, the annual report will have been the first step toward a binding court judgment. If it does not, Portugal joins a growing list of member states where Brussels diagnoses institutional decay clearly, publishes the diagnosis annually, and watches it continue. That is the precise point where EU rule-of-law oversight stops being power and becomes paperwork.