The Price of the Orbán Era

And yet, this moment carries a paradox. The possibility of change has returned, but so too has a clearer understanding of how much has already changed.

The Hungary approaching this election is not the Hungary that brought Orbán to power in 2010, nor the Hungary that joined the European Union with confidence in its democratic future. Over the past fifteen years, a proud, resilient, and deeply capable country has been reshaped into a system that serves the few rather than the many. A state once held up as a post-communist success story is now widely regarded as one of the most corrupt in Europe. 

This transformation did not occur overnight. It was built, deliberately, systematically, and often out of public view. After more than a decade and a half under Viktor Orbán, Hungary has become one of the European Union’s clearest examples of democratic backsliding. What exists today in Hungary is frequently described as a hybrid regime: elections are still held, institutions formally remain, but the substance of democracy, accountability, genuine competition, and meaningful checks on power, has been steadily hollowed out.

 

How Power Was Rewritten 

 

The transformation of Hungary’s political system began almost immediately after Viktor Orbán returned to power in 2010 with a rare constitutional supermajority. That majority, two-thirds of parliament, gave his government the ability not just to govern, but to rewrite the rules of the system itself without opposition support. It moved quickly. Within a year, the government had amended the existing Constitution twelve times, systematically removing constraints on executive power. Among the most consequential changes was the elimination of the requirement for broad parliamentary consensus on constitutional amendments, effectively allowing the governing majority to reshape the legal order on its own terms. Then, in 2011, the government went further, replacing the Constitution entirely with a new Fundamental Law. The process was striking in both speed and substance. The new constitution was drafted behind closed doors, without meaningful public consultation. Parliamentary debate lasted just nine days. It was adopted strictly along party lines, with opposition parties either excluded or refusing to participate in what they viewed as a predetermined process. This was not simply constitutional reform in the conventional sense. It was an institutional redesign. 

The new framework was accompanied by hundreds of additional laws, many of them so-called ‘cardinal laws’ requiring a two-thirds majority to amend, embedding key policy choices and institutional arrangements into a structure that would be difficult for any future government to reverse. 

Particularly significant were the changes to the electoral system. Constituency boundaries were redrawn in ways widely criticised as favouring the ruling party. The electoral formula was modified to amplify the winner’s advantage. New rules on campaign financing and media access further tilted the playing field. These changes did not eliminate competition, but they reshaped it, ensuring that fragmentation among opposition forces, a normal feature of pluralistic politics, would systematically benefit the incumbent. The cumulative effect was profound. Elections remained competitive in form, but increasingly asymmetric in practice. Relatively small differences in vote share could now produce disproportionately large parliamentary majorities. And they did just that. In 2014, 2018 and 2022.

 

From Government to System 

 

Over time, this logic of control extended far beyond electoral rules into the broader architecture of the state. Institutions designed to provide oversight and balance, independent regulators, audit bodies, competition authorities, and the prosecution service, were gradually brought into closer alignment with the executive. Leadership positions were filled with individuals loyal to the governing party, often with long or renewable mandates that extended well beyond electoral cycles. 

The judiciary, a cornerstone of democratic accountability, was also reshaped. Structural reforms altered the organisation of the courts, while new administrative bodies gained influence over judicial appointments and case allocation. Although courts continue to function, concerns have grown about the degree of independence under sustained political pressure. 

At the same time, parliament’s role as a forum for debate and scrutiny diminished. Legislative processes were accelerated, often limiting meaningful oversight. Decision-making became increasingly concentrated within the executive, with key policies shaped by a relatively small circle around the prime minister. Moreover, Hungary has effectively been governed by decrees since 2020. 

Beyond formal institutions, the operating environment for independent actors changed significantly. Large parts of the media landscape were consolidated into pro-government ownership structures, often through acquisitions by politically connected business figures. Independent outlets faced financial pressure, regulatory challenges, or reduced access to information. While pluralism has not disappeared entirely, particularly in larger cities, it has become uneven, with limited diversity of viewpoints in much of the country. 

Civil society organisations, particularly those receiving EU funding or engaging in advocacy, are frequently portrayed as political actors or external agents. This contributed to a climate in which their role as democracy watchdogs, or criticism of government actions is increasingly framed by those in power not as legitimate opinion or opposition, but as disloyalty. 

Taken together, these developments amount to more than the strengthening of executive power. They represent the emergence of a system in which political authority, economic resources, and institutional control are closely intertwined. In such a system, access often depends on proximity to power. Public procurement, regulatory decisions, and economic opportunities tend to favour a relatively narrow circle of actors. Oversight mechanisms exist, but their effectiveness is limited when those responsible for enforcing them are themselves embedded within the same structure. 

The result is not the absence of formal institutions, but their transformation. Hungary has not moved away from institutional governance, it has moved toward a model in which those institutions are increasingly aligned with, rather than independent from, political power. What has emerged is not simply a strong government, but state capture: a self-reinforcing system, one that shapes outcomes, limits alternatives, and makes meaningful challenges progressively more difficult.

 

Europe’s Unreliable Insider 

 

Hungary’s internal transformation has not remained confined within its borders. It has steadily reshaped the country’s position within Europe, and not in ways that strengthen confidence. 

Formally, Hungary remains a full member of both the European Union and NATO, bound by shared legal frameworks, political commitments, and security obligations. In practice, however, it has become one of the EU’s most difficult and least predictable partners. Over the past decade, the Orbán government has repeatedly challenged core principles that underpin the Union, particularly in relation to the rule of law, democratic governance, and the functioning of collective decision-making. Disputes over judicial independence, corruption, and institutional integrity have not only triggered several legal proceedings against Hungary, but also led to the suspension of significant amounts of EU funds, an unprecedented step reflecting the depth of concern in Brussels and EU capitals.

At the same time, Hungary has made increasing use of one of the EU’s most powerful procedural tools: the veto. It has blocked or delayed decisions on issues central to the Union’s current agenda, including financial assistance to Ukraine, sanctions on Russia, and key elements of the EU budget. In some cases, these interventions have forced last-minute negotiations or concessions. In others, they have slowed collective responses at moments requiring urgency. 

From Budapest’s perspective, this is the legitimate use of national sovereignty within a consensus-based system. From the perspective of many of its partners, it reflects a broader pattern: the use of institutional leverage not to shape outcomes constructively, but to extract political or financial advantage. This distinction matters because the European Union does not function solely through formal rules. It depends on trust, the assumption that member states will act in good faith, respect shared commitments, and avoid undermining collective interests for short-term gain. That trust has been steadily eroded. 

Hungary is increasingly viewed not as a cooperative partner, but as a transactional actor, one willing to leverage moments of crisis to secure concessions or delay decisions. This perception has consequences. It affects not only day-to-day negotiations, but also the broader willingness of other member states to rely on Hungary in future cooperation. 

As a result, a subtle but significant shift is underway. EU Member States are beginning to adapt, quietly exploring legal and procedural mechanisms to bypass or limit Hungary’s ability to block collective action, particularly in areas where unanimity is required. These discussions, once theoretical, are becoming more concrete. 

In a union built on consensus, this is an extraordinary development. It signals a movement away from mutual accommodation toward managed circumvention, a recognition that, in certain cases, consensus may no longer be achievable with all members fully aligned. Hungary, in this sense, occupies an increasingly unusual position: not outside the European Union, but no longer fully trusted within it.

 

Between Alliances 

 

Hungary’s geopolitical positioning adds a further layer of complexity to its trajectory. Over the past decade, the Orbán government has cultivated close and sustained ties with Russia, particularly in the energy sector, while simultaneously expanding economic and strategic cooperation with China. Major projects, such as the expansion of the Paks nuclear power plant with Russian involvement, or Chinese-backed infrastructure investments, reflect a long-term orientation that goes beyond short-term pragmatism. 

This approach has placed Hungary at odds with the broader EU consensus, especially since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. While other member states moved to impose sanctions and reduce dependency on Russian energy, Hungary has repeatedly sought exemptions, delayed decisions, or diluted collective measures. It has also been more cautious, and at times obstructive, on EU support for Ukraine. 

The government presents this as strategic pragmatism: a foreign policy guided by national interest, economic necessity, and energy security. From this perspective, maintaining diversified relationships is a rational response to a changing global order. Yet among Hungary’s partners, the perception is markedly different. What Budapest frames as pragmatism is often seen as strategic ambiguity, a reluctance to fully align at moments when unity is most critical. In a geopolitical environment defined by heightened tension, ambiguity is not neutral. It introduces uncertainty into alliances that depend on predictability and shared commitments. This raises a fundamental question: where does Hungary stand when alignment matters most? 

For the European Union, this is not a theoretical concern. Collective foreign policy, whether on sanctions, security, or economic measures, relies on cohesion. A single member state willing to diverge, delay, or negotiate exceptions can weaken the Union’s overall position. 

For NATO, the stakes are even higher. Alliance credibility rests on mutual trust and clarity of intent. While Hungary has not broken with its formal obligations, its positioning has at times generated unease about the depth of its alignment. 

 

An Illiberal Project

 

Orbán’s influence now extends well beyond Hungary’s borders. Over the past decade, he has deliberately positioned himself as a central figure in a growing network of nationalist and far-right actors across Europe and beyond, offering not just political support, but a governing model. At the core of this project is his concept of ‘illiberal democracy’: a system that maintains the outward structures of elections and state institutions, while rejecting the liberal principles, the rule of law, pluralism, independent media, and judicial constraint, that underpin them everywhere. In Orbán’s formulation, electoral legitimacy alone is sufficient; checks and balances are treated not as safeguards, but as obstacles. 

Hungary has become the most fully developed example of this model in the European Union, and increasingly, a reference point for those seeking to replicate or adapt it. This influence is neither abstract nor passive. It is actively cultivated. 

Budapest has hosted high-profile gatherings such as CPAC Hungary, bringing together a transnational coalition of conservative and far-right figures from Europe and the United States. These events are not merely symbolic. They serve as platforms for agenda-setting, network-building, and the exchange of political strategy, particularly on issues such as migration, cultural identity, and opposition to EU-level integration. 

At the same time, Orbán’s government has offered political endorsement and, in some cases, material support to aligned parties across Europe. His rhetoric and policy approach have resonated with, and helped legitimise, movements in countries such as Italy, France, Austria, and Spain, where far-right parties have gained electoral ground. 

For the European Union, this presents a deeper challenge than a single member state diverging from agreed norms. It raises the prospect of a coordinated ideological shift within parts of the Union itself, one that questions not only specific policies, but the foundational principles of the European project.

 

The Return of Political Possibility 

 

Against this backdrop, the rise of Péter Magyar has introduced something Hungarian politics has not seen in years: uncertainty. For more than a decade, Orbán’s system of national cooperation (also known by its Hungarian acronym NER) has operated with a certain predictability. Orbán wins. The opposition fragments. Government cronies and family members are awarded public procurement contracts. Media outlets are bought up and turned into government propaganda mouthpieces. Civil society is attacked and vilified. The system holds. Elections take place, but their outcome rarely alters the underlying balance of power. 

That pattern is now less certain. 

Magyar’s emergence reflects a real and growing frustration, particularly among young people and voters who feel excluded from a system shaped by patronage, limited mobility, and narrowing opportunity. Magyar’s appeal lies not in ideology, but in recognition. He speaks to experiences that many Hungarians share: economic stagnation, blatant corruption everywhere, lack of accountability, and the sense that access to a good life depends less on merit than on proximity to power. 

However, less than a month before the elections, very little is known about his political views or priorities. Moreover, early assessments, including analysis of the voting patterns of his TISZA party in the European Parliament and the contours of his emerging political platform, suggest that his positioning represents adjustment of Fidesz priorities and policies, rather than rupture and complete change from them. While his rhetoric is openly critical of the current system, his policy signals remain more cautious and, at times, ambiguous. Which doesn’t come as a complete surprise for someone who spent his whole adult life and career in the inner echelons of Fidesz. 

 

A System Built to Resist Change 

 

Even if political change were to materialise after the elections in April, the system it would confront has been designed to limit what that change can achieve. Over the past decade, large parts of Hungary’s institutional and legal framework have been embedded in so-called ‘cardinal laws’, which require a two-thirds parliamentary majority to amend. These laws govern not only constitutional matters, but also key aspects of public administration, the judiciary, and regulatory bodies. This creates a structural imbalance. 

A government may secure a clear electoral mandate, winning a majority of seats and forming an administration, yet still lack the legal authority to implement many of its core reforms. Without a two-thirds majority, it cannot easily change the rules that define how power is exercised. The implications are significant. 

A new government could appoint ministers, shape certain policies, and manage day-to-day governance. But it would not control the deeper architecture of the state. It would face institutions led by figures appointed under the Orbán system, legal constraints that limit reform, and entrenched networks of influence that extend across politics and the economy. 

In effect, Hungary has developed a system in which losing political office does not necessarily mean losing control over power. Elections can change who governs, but not necessarily how the country is governed.

 

A Country at a Crossroads 

 

And yet, despite these constraints, something has shifted. The sense of inevitability that once defined Hungarian politics has weakened. Public frustration is more visible. Protests continue to emerge. More people are speaking up. And what is maybe the most important: a generation of young people that was born or grew up in this system appears less willing to accept the status quo as fixed or inevitable.

The idea of change, long dismissed as unrealistic, has returned to the political landscape. 

But this moment is defined as much by uncertainty as by possibility. Hungary stands at a crossroads, not only in electoral terms, but in structural and generational ones. The upcoming election may open the door to political change. What remains unclear is whether the system that has been built over the past sixteen years will allow that change to extend beyond the surface. 

The central question is no longer simply who will govern Hungary next. It is whether, after more than a decade of deliberate institutional transformation, change is still capable of changing anything at all.