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| Péter Magyar (Photo: Márton Mónus/Reuters) |
Yesterday’s Hungarian parliamentary election has delivered
what, until very recently, seemed improbable: the defeat of Viktor Orbán and
his long-dominant Fidesz party. For over a decade, Hungary has stood as the
clearest example within the European Union of how the structures of democracy
can be steadily eroded by those in power. That this system has now been
challenged—and decisively so—marks a turning point not only for Hungary, but
for liberal democracy across Europe.
Péter Magyar and TISZA didn’t just win – with over 98% of
votes counted it is clear that they have won comfortably, securing at least 137
of the 199 seats in the national Assembly. The distribution of seats reflects a
decisive rejection of the Orbán era and Orbánism. After years of constitutional
engineering, media dominance and patronage networks designed to entrench power,
the system built by Fidesz has been broken.
The way it has been broken – democratically, and in emphatic
style – demonstrates that even a constrained democracy can provide the means
for its own renewal.
Unsurprisingly, UK politicians have been offering their
thoughts on the result. Lib Dem leader Ed Davey said: “Congratulations to the
people of Hungary for showing that populist extremists can be defeated – even despite
Donald Trump’s best efforts.”
Deputy leader Daisy Cooper expressed similar sentiments:
Delighted to see the people of Hungary vote for closer ties with Europe and
against the likes of Putin, Trump and Farage.”
Labour’s Liam Byrne observed that “Orbán built a template
for how a democratically elected leader can hollow out democracy from within,
but if the authoritarian playbook model can be beaten in Hungary it can be
beaten anywhere.” The added that the result “matters far beyond Budapest” and “should
give progressives hearts everywhere.”
Scotland’s first minister, John Swinney, called the result “a
powerful moment for Hungary and for democratic values in Europe.”
The SNP’s Pete Wishart didn’t mince his words. He said: “Fantastic.
Maybe there’s a sense that the far right are in retreat across Europe. We can
do our bit in Scotland to ensure they’re well beaten here.”
The nature of Orbánism
To understand the significance of this moment, one must
first understand Orbánism. It was never merely a political programme; it was a
governing philosophy rooted in the rejection of liberal democracy itself. Orbán
championed what he openly called an “illiberal state,” one that subordinated
independent institutions, constrained judicial oversight, captured large
swathes of the media and blurred the boundary between party and state.
Under this model, elections continued—but the playing field
was tilted. Opposition parties existed but operated under severe structural
disadvantages. Hungary became a case study in how democratic backsliding can
occur not through abrupt rupture, but through gradual erosion.
Orbán’s foreign policy compounded this trajectory. His
government cultivated close ties with authoritarian regimes, most notably
Russia, often positioning Hungary at odds with its European partners. This not
only weakened EU cohesion but lent legitimacy to a broader authoritarian
resurgence.
Why this result is so significant
The defeat of Orbán demonstrates that such systems are not
invincible. For years, many assumed that the structural advantages Fidesz had
embedded into Hungary’s political system rendered electoral defeat virtually
impossible. That assumption has now been proven spectacularly wrong.
This is not merely a change of government; it is a
repudiation of a model. It shows that even where democratic norms have been
eroded, voters can still mobilise to restore them—provided there is a credible
vehicle through which to do so.
For Hungary, the
defeat of Orbánism offers an opportunity to restore the independence of the
judiciary, to scrap the NER system of patronage, to reshape Hungary’s place in
Europe and to rebuild the basic norms of democratic life that have been
steadily eroded over the past decade.
If seized, this
moment could mark a genuine turning point: not simply a change of government,
but a transition away from a system in which power was concentrated,
accountability weakened and loyalty rewarded over competence. It creates the
space to re-establish a state that serves the public rather than the governing
party and to revive a free and plural media environment.
Crucially, it also
offers Hungary the chance to re-anchor itself within the European mainstream—no
longer as an outlier or obstruction, but as a constructive partner committed to
the rule of law, democratic standards, and collective security. Whether this
becomes a true inflection point will depend on the willingness of the new
government not only to dismantle what came before, but to replace it with
something more durable, more open, and more accountable. But the opportunity is
unmistakable: Hungary can move from managed democracy back to a living,
functioning one.
Why did Péter Magyar win?
Péter Magyar’s victory is instructive, particularly for
liberals in the United Kingdom and those seeking to counter the rise of
populist movements such as Reform UK.
Magyar did not win by presenting himself as a conventional
liberal. Nor did he attempt to outbid Orbán on ideological grounds. Instead, he
focused relentlessly on the nature and consequences of Orbánism: corruption,
cronyism, institutional decay and the everyday failures of governance that
flowed from them.
He framed the election not as a contest of left versus
right, but as one of integrity versus decay. In doing so, he was able to build
a coalition that cut across traditional political divides, attracting voters
who might not otherwise align with liberal or progressive causes. His campaign
was characterised by positive messages, especially around relationships with
Europe, and a focus on anti-corruption and anti-authoritarianism. Many who voted
for TISZA were not natural supporters, but Magyar was able to build a broad
(and unashamedly patriotic) grassroots movement and to persuade other
opposition parties to step aside to avoid splitting the anti-Fidesz vote.
The lesson here is clear. Opposing populist or illiberal
movements requires more than moral denunciation. It also requires more than the
encouragement of tactical voting. It demands a strategy that speaks to lived
experience—one that exposes not just the rhetoric of such movements, but the
tangible harms they inflict.
In Britain, that
lesson has yet to be fully absorbed. Currently various parties, the Lib Dems
included, are positioning themselves as the most viable vehicle to defeat Reform,
rather than confronting the conditions that allow such movements to thrive. What
is required instead is something deeper—a broad-based democratic resistance
that goes beyond party lines. That means making the case, consistently and
concretely, that populist politics does not deliver: that it weakens public
services, distorts priorities and substitutes grievance for solutions. It means
engaging with communities where trust in politics has eroded, not just during
campaigns but between them. And it means building a positive, credible
alternative that restores faith in politics as a force for practical
improvement. Without that, opposition risks becoming reactive and
fragmented—while the likes of Reform continue to shape the terms of debate.
But how do we
actually get to that place? What does a genuine democratic resistance look like
in practice?
Does it mean greater
openness to alliances—formal or informal—between parties that would not
ordinarily cooperate? Does it require a more strategic approach to elections,
including the selective standing aside of candidates in tightly contested
seats? And if so, who decides, and on what basis? These are not easy questions,
particularly in a political culture that prizes party identity and competition.
But the Hungarian example suggests that when the stakes are sufficiently high,
voters are willing to move faster than parties. The risk for British
opposition parties is that cooperation is too timid, arriving too late or not
at all.
There is, however, an
obvious difference between Britain and Hungary. Resistance to what reform
represents is not about removing a government but preventing a political
culture from taking root. It requires confronting narratives before they harden
into orthodoxy, and offering credible answers to the grievances that populists
exploit. I have suggested the possibility of alliances and tactical decisions,
but they are -at best – merely tools. The
deeper challenge is whether Britain’s democratic parties can act with the
urgency, imagination, and collective purpose that moments like this demand.
Why were the polls – and media – so wrong?
The polling showed a close contest, although in recent days
independent polls suggested a narrow win for TOSZA while Hungarian state
polling pointed to a Fidesz victory. As recently as last Thursday, Tibor
Fischer, writing for the Daily Telegraph, insisted that “Orbán will win again and the Leftist chatterati
just doesn’t get why”.
In fact, it is
precisely this kind of analysis that failed to grasp what was unfolding.
Fischer’s argument rested on a familiar premise: that Orbán’s dominance
reflected a deep, stable alignment between his politics and the Hungarian
electorate, and that criticism of his rule was driven more by liberal prejudice
than by lived reality. But that reading mistook control for consent. It assumed
that because Orbán had successfully shaped the political environment—through
media influence, institutional control, and patronage—he had secured something
more durable than he in fact had.
What it – and much
of the polling – missed was the slow accumulation of discontent beneath the
surface. Voters who had tolerated—or even supported—Fidesz were increasingly
confronted with the consequences of its rule: stagnation, corruption and a
narrowing of opportunity. Crucially, when presented with a credible alternative
in Péter Magyar, many were willing to act on that dissatisfaction. This was not
a sudden or irrational shift; it was the release of pressures that had been
building for years.
Too many on the
political right that has been too willing to take Orbán’s narrative at face
value. By focusing on his electoral success while downplaying the conditions
under which it was achieved.
The polling failure reflects these political factors. In
systems where media plurality is limited and political pressure is pervasive,
accurately capturing voter sentiment becomes inherently difficult. There is
also the phenomenon of “shy voters,” reluctant to express opposition views in
an environment where dissent has long been marginalised. But most importantly,
the polling models were calibrated to a political landscape that was already
crumbling.
A necessary note of caution
The excitement from the First Minister and other UK
politicians is understandable. It is essential, however, not to misinterpret
this result. Péter Magyar did not win because Hungary has suddenly embraced
liberalism. His own politics are firmly centre-right and, in many respects, he
is not a liberal standard-bearer.
What he did do—crucially—was challenge the nature and
symptoms of Orbánism. Where Orbán centralised power, Magyar promises to
disperse it. Where Orbán blurred the line between party and state, Magyar has
pledged to restore institutional independence. Where Orbán thrived on division
and grievance, Magyar has campaigned on competence and accountability. For that
alone we should be grateful, but we need to be realistic: what has happened is
that Orbánism has been soundly rejected and the door to democratic renewal has
been opened, but it is not yet clear what direction this will take. The task
now is not simply to celebrate the fall of Orbánism, but to ensure that what
replaces it is more open, more plural and more firmly rooted in the rule of
law.
What next for Hungary?
With a parliamentary
majority, TISZA now faces the formidable task of translating electoral success
into structural reform. The legacy of Orbánism is deeply embedded—not only in
law, but in institutions, networks and political culture.
Undoing this will
require more than legislative change. It will demand patience, resilience and a
willingness to confront entrenched interests. The question is not merely
whether TISZA can govern, but whether it can rebuild the foundations of
democratic governance in a way that endures.
In foreign policy,
the shift could be immediate and a radical departure from Fidesz’s positioning of
Hungary as an outlier within the European Union—frequently at odds with its partners,
and often aligned with Russian interests. A TISZA government has the
opportunity to reset those relationships, and I fully expect them to do this.
Rebuilding trust with Brussels will be essential, not least to unlock funding
and restore Hungary’s credibility as a constructive member state. Relations
with Poland—itself emerging from a period of democratic backsliding—may prove
particularly significant, offering the potential for a renewed Central European
bloc anchored in democratic norms rather than illiberal experimentation.
Nowhere will the
change be more closely watched than in Hungary’s stance towards Ukraine.
Orbán’s government cultivated an ambiguous, often obstructive position,
frustrating collective European efforts to support Kyiv and reinforcing the
perception of Hungary as Moscow’s proxy within the EU. A decisive reorientation
would not only strengthen European unity, but signal that Hungary has stepped
back from the geopolitical ambiguity that defined the Orbán years. It will
hopefully mark the end of Hungary’s role as Russia’s most reliable ally in
Central Europe.
Domestically, however,
the challenges are more complex. Creating a more open Hungary means more than
removing political controls; it requires actively rebuilding pluralism. That
includes fostering a genuinely independent media landscape, protecting civil
society organisations, and restoring public confidence in institutions that
have too often been seen as instruments of power rather than checks upon it.
Cultural change of this kind cannot be legislated into existence—it must be
nurtured, and it will take time.
There is also the
question of constitutional reform. Orbán’s governments reshaped Hungary’s legal
framework in ways designed to entrench Fidesz’s influence well beyond its time
in office. Even with a strong parliamentary majority, reversing these changes
may prove difficult. The risk is that TISZA finds itself governing within a
system still partially configured to frustrate it—forced to choose between
incremental change and more radical institutional confrontation.
And with power comes
expectation. Large majorities can create the illusion of political strength,
but they also magnify the consequences of failure. Péter Magyar may yet face
the same challenge confronting leaders such as Keir Starmer: how to sustain
public confidence once the initial momentum of victory fades. Voters who have
delivered change decisively will expect results just as quickly. If reform
proves slower, more contested, or more compromising than anticipated,
disillusionment can set in.
Success will depend
not just on dismantling Orbánism, but on constructing something more resilient
in its place.
The wider implications
Liam Byrne is correct: the fall of Orbán has immediate
implications beyond Hungary’s borders. Within the European Union, it removes a
key source of internal obstruction, particularly on issues relating to the rule
of law, support for Ukraine and relations with Russia.
It also sends a signal to other countries grappling with
populist or illiberal movements: such projects can fail. Their apparent
strength often masks underlying fragility—fragility that becomes visible when
voters are presented with a credible alternative.
Orbánism ultimately failed because it prioritised power over
performance. In the end, the very mechanisms designed to entrench
authority—centralisation, patronage, control—produced stagnation, corruption and
public disillusionment.
Can Fidesz recover?
The immediate question following this defeat is whether
Fidesz can recover—or whether this marks the beginning of its long-term
decline. Parties built so heavily around a single figure, in this case Viktor
Orbán, often struggle to adapt once their aura of invincibility is broken.
On one hand, Fidesz retains significant structural
advantages. Its networks in business, media, and local government remain deeply
embedded. A loyal core electorate—shaped by years of political messaging and
patronage—will not disappear overnight. It would be a mistake to assume that
Orbánism has simply evaporated with one electoral defeat.
On the other hand, the very nature of the system Orbán built
may now work against his party. A model reliant on centralised control, personal
authority and constant political dominance is poorly suited to opposition.
Without access to the levers of state power, the contradictions within
Fidesz—between ideology and pragmatism, loyalty and ambition—may become more
visible.
My own belief is that Fidesz will inevitably struggle to
adapt to opposition and will break up. It will find it difficult to meaningfully
renew itself without rethinking its approach to governance, institutions and
Hungary’s place in Europe. Fracture is more likely that reform.
The more obvious option for Fidesz could be to double down
on grievance politics, seeking to delegitimise the new government and mobilise
its base through claims of betrayal or external interference. Already there are
notable Fidesz supporters outside Hungary blaming George Soros for the result.
This is, in many
ways, the instinctive path. Orbánism has long relied on the construction of
external enemies—Brussels, migrants, liberal elites, and figures like Soros—to
sustain a sense of permanent crisis. In power, that strategy helped justify
centralisation and deflect responsibility. In opposition, it offers a familiar
and emotionally resonant way to maintain cohesion: defeat is not accepted as a
verdict of the electorate, but recast as the product of manipulation or
conspiracy. It allows Fidesz to preserve its internal narrative without
confronting the reasons for its loss.
But a politics built
on grievance struggles to renew itself because it resists introspection. A
consequence of this is that no alternative vision is developed. Over time, this
risks trapping Fidesz in a closed loop—speaking ever more narrowly to its core
supporters while losing its ability to reach beyond them.
For Fidesz to
survive as a credible force, it would need to acknowledge the dynamics that led
to its rejection. That is unlikely. To
respond to the electoral verdict with more of the same is not resilience—it is
denial. And denial, sustained for long enough, does not preserve a political
movement; it diminishes it.
Taking Our Country Back
The slogan “take our country back” has too often been
co-opted by the likes of Reform UK to justify exclusion and division. Hungary’s
election offers a different interpretation of what “taking a country back”
means. TISZA was not ashamed to be patriotic and recognised the importance of
appeal to the nation – and nationhood. It actively reclaimed patriotism from Orbánism
and redefined what it means to love Hungary, grounding patriotism in everyday
experience, reframing it as service and avoiding the liberal versus nationalist
trap that Fidesz tried to set. TISZA was able to build a sense of national
renewal, showing that patriotism doesn’t have to be divisive and focused their messaging
on what Hungary could become.
In Hungary, voters have done the unthinkable. The lesson for
the rest of us is that defeating the far right is not just about opposing its
ideas—it is about exposing its failures, building credible alternatives and
resisting populism before it defines the terms of our politics.
