How many more will have to die before their conscience weighs on them?

In Portugal, babies died because there were no means to save them. A man with a brain bleed waited more than five hours for transport. The INEM (National Emergency Medical Service) failed. The SNS (National Health Service) didn't arrive in time. And the Minister of Health, after all this, can tell the country that she has a "clear conscience."

This is not just tragic. It's grotesque.

In a country that prides itself on its National Health Service, medical teams did what they could, but relief was stalled due to a lack of resources, logistical delays, and poor coordination.

And when a system that exists to save lives fails, lives are lost. This isn't rhetoric. It's literal.

What's shocking isn't just the succession of cases. It's the discourse that follows them.

A minister who, after the deaths of babies that could have been prevented with timely air transport, says she dedicates "70% of her day to the INEM." As if desk time were any consolation to a mother left without a child in her arms.

As if the ministry's internal statistics were more relevant than the cold body of a child who will never grow up.

Ministers have fallen in Portugal for much less than this. There have been resignations due to political pressure, administrative suspicions, and problems that didn't cost lives.

Now, faced with concrete deaths and an emergency system that fails in the essential aspect of arriving on time, what we have is a leader who sleeps peacefully.

As if governing were to guarantee one's own sleep, and not the right to life of those who depend on the State.

And yes, it's true that Ana Paula Martins wasn't the one who piloted the helicopters. She wasn't the one who answered the INEM phone. But the profound meaning of political responsibility is this: whoever takes over the position is responsible for what happens under their command.

It's not for glories. It's for tragedies.

The NHS doesn't just need more money. It needs clear priorities and the courage to govern, not manage silence.

You need someone who, when they see fatal flaws, is left with a heavy conscience to the point of realizing: I can't carry on as if nothing happened.

In the end, the question that remains is not rhetorical. It is a moral demand:

How many more will have to die before someone finally loses their conscience?

How many families will have to cry alone for it to be understood that governing means bearing the weight of these failures, not sweeping them under the rug of reports?

Because there are consciences that rest.

But there are entire countries that shouldn't sleep peacefully with them in power.