LONDON: Hungary’s parliamentary election today has been billed as possibly the most important in the country’s modern history. It is not simply a vote about who governs in Budapest; it is a referendum on a political system that has reshaped the meaning of democracy inside the European Union, and a test of whether that system can be reversed through the ballot box. For sixteen years, Viktor Orbán has constructed what he proudly calls an “illiberal democracy”: a model that preserved the rituals of elections while retaining power over institutions, media, and the economy. For most of that time, Hungarian elections have been competitive in theory but completely predictable in practice. Orbán’s dominance seemed less like a political phase than a settled reality, and now, for the first time in over a decade, that reality is in doubt. The emergence of Péter Magyar and his Tisza movement has transformed the political landscape with startling speed. A year ago, the idea that Orbán could be seriously challenged at the ballot box would have seemed implausible. Today, opinion polls suggesting an opposition lead, have forced a fundamental shift, not just in political calculations but in public psychology. And that shift may be the most consequential development of all.
Authoritarian-leaning systems often rely less on outright repression than on a sense of inevitability. When voters believe change is impossible, they disengage or accommodate. Orbán’s Hungary has long benefited from this dynamic, but as Magyar’s campaign gathered momentum, that sense of inevitability began to erode. The electorate began to imagine an alternative, and once that mental barrier breaks, even deeply entrenched systems can become vulnerable. Orbán himself appeared to recognize the danger, as his recent rhetoric, including an unusually sharp denunciation of opponents as agents of “anger, hatred, and destruction,” suggested a leader under pressure. For years, Orbán cultivated the image of a calm strategist guiding Hungary through crises, from migration to economic shocks to war in neighbouring Ukraine. Suddenly that image gave way to something more brittle, a political veteran fighting to preserve a corrupt system he built. That system is not merely electoral; it is structural.
Over the past decade and a half, Fidesz has developed a dense and shady network of influence that spans media ownership, public procurement, and local governance. In rural Hungary especially, political loyalty is often intertwined with economic survival. Access to jobs, contracts, and social provision depend on unending support for the ruling party. Allegations of vote-buying, coercion, and the strategic use of state resources during recent campaigns illustrated how uneven the playing field had become. Orbán was not just contesting an election; he was desperately defending his interests. Yet the very forces that once sustained his rule began to turn against him. Orbán rose to power as an anti-establishment figure, railing against Hungary’s elites and foreign influence. But after sixteen years in office, many Hungarians, particularly younger voters, saw his government as embodying the very elite it once opposed. The enormous enrichment of his family and politically connected figures, along with the growing economic ends of Orbán’s inner circle, blurred the line between national development and private gain. Defenders of the government argued that this represented a deliberate effort to build a patriotic capitalist class, reducing reliance on foreign ownership. But that argument lost traction among voters who saw public funds flowing massively to a narrow network of cronies loyal to Orbán. What was once framed as national strategy increasingly became blatant patronage.
Péter Magyar capitalized on this discontent, with a campaign that was striking precisely because of its simplicity. While Orbán spoke in lofty geopolitical terms, such as defending Hungary from Brussels, migrants, and “pro-war” forces, Magyar focused on everyday matters, such as healthcare, education, infrastructure, and the decline of rural communities. It was a return to baseline politics in a system long dominated by grand narratives, a contrast that resonated with the electorate.
But this election is not only about domestic dissatisfaction, it is also about Hungary’s place in the world and here the stakes extend far beyond its borders. Since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Orbán has pursued a distinctive and lonely foreign policy within the EU, maintaining close ties with Moscow while positioning himself as a critic of Western strategy. His government has repeatedly delayed or diluted EU support for Kyiv, opposed Ukraine’s accession ambitions, and resisted efforts to reduce dependence on Russian energy. This stance made Hungary an outlier and, in the eyes of critics, a despicable spoiler. The issue came to a head in recent months, when Orbán blocked a 50bn euro EU loan to Kyiv, insisting that he would only cooperate if Hungary was given concessions on energy supplies. Orbán’s campaign also leaned heavily on anti-Ukrainian messaging, including vicious attacks on Volodymyr Zelenskyy together with warnings about an imaginary “pro-war lobby” in Brussels.
Such rhetoric may still resonate with segments of the electorate, particularly those wary of being drawn into a wider conflict; but public opinion in Hungary has shifted significantly since 2022. A growing number of voters now view Russia as the clear aggressor, complicating the government’s erroneous narrative. Magyar’s position is more measured but no less consequential. He has promised to rebalance Hungary’s foreign policy, maintaining pragmatic relations with Moscow, while restoring closer alignment with the EU and NATO. More importantly, he has framed the election itself as a geopolitical choice, declaring that it is a decision about whether Hungary’s future lies primarily with Brussels or Moscow. That framing has profound implications.
Orbán’s Hungary has become, in the words of some observers, a model for “illiberal democracy” worldwide, a system that combines electoral legitimacy with centralized control. His success has inspired like-minded movements across Europe and beyond, offering a blueprint for those leaders who seek to hold onto power without abandoning democratic forms altogether. A victory for Orbán today would reinforce that model, demonstrating its durability even under mounting internal and external pressure. A defeat, by contrast, would send shockwaves far beyond Hungary. It would suggest that even deeply embedded illiberal systems can be challenged through democratic means; that the ballot box, however constrained, still matters. The international ramifications would be immediate. Moscow would lose one of its most reliable partners inside the EU, complicating its ability to influence European policy; while Western capitals, from Brussels to Washington, would likely welcome a shift in Budapest’s stance on Ukraine and broader geopolitical alignment.
At the same time, Orbán’s network of close allies would take note. Figures such as Donald Trump, who openly backed the Hungarian leader, have championed similar illiberal institutions. A setback for Orbán would not only this, but it would challenge its aura of momentum. It would be naïve, however, to assume that an opposition victory would resolve Hungary’s problems overnight. Even if Magyar prevails, he will inherit a state whose institutions have been reshaped to favour one-party dominance. Rebuilding judicial independence, restoring media pluralism, and disentangling political power from economic networks will be slow, contested, and politically risky. As former chief justice András Baka has warned, Hungary already bears the hallmarks of a “captured state.” Dismantling that “capture” without triggering instability will require not just electoral success, but sustained skill and institutional patience. There are also legitimate questions about Magyar himself. His rapid rise, while impressive, leaves uncertainties about the durability and cohesion of his movement. Orbán has sought to exploit personal controversies and portray Magyar as untested. In such a polarized environment, these attacks could yet prove effective.
Which brings us back to the central issue of this election: uncertainty. For years, Hungarian politics was defined by predictability; Orbán would win, the opposition would fragment, and the system would endure. That era is now over. Whether Hungary moves toward renewal or retrenchment will depend not only on the strategies of its politicians, but on the choices of its voters. This is the paradox at the heart of the moment. Hungary’s democracy has been constrained, reshaped, and, in many respects, hollowed out; and yet, it is still functioning – just. The mechanisms of government remain intact enough to allow for the possibility of change. The question is whether that possibility becomes reality. If Orbán wins today, he will likely interpret it as a mandate to continue, perhaps even deepen, the model he has built. If he loses, the veteran Hungarian politician will likely face investigation for his actions over the past sixteen years, along with uncomfortable questions about the nature of his ties to the Kremlin.
In an age when democracy itself feels increasingly fragile, this election is more than a national contest. It is a reminder that political systems, no matter how entrenched, are never entirely immune to the forces of change, and that even after sixteen years, the story is not yet finished.
* John Dobson is a former British diplomat, who also worked in UK Prime Minister John Major’s office between 1995 and 1998. He is currently a visiting fellow at the University of Plymouth.
