The Hungarian vs. The Strongman: Hungary’s Choice Without a Choice
The election has not produced a democratic breakthrough, nor does it signal a turn toward genuine pluralism or sustainable development.
By Biljana Vankovska
A prefatory note:
This article was drafted on the eve of Hungary’s parliamentary elections (12 April 2026), before the final results were confirmed. Writing now, with the outcome known, the essential analysis remains unchanged.
The election has not produced a democratic breakthrough, nor does it signal a turn toward genuine pluralism or sustainable development. What we are witnessing is a recalibration of dependency: a shift from friction with EU disciplinary mechanisms toward alternative alignments that may unlock funds—but at the cost of deeper entanglement in geopolitical agendas, including the militarisation of Europe and the prolongation of the war in Ukraine. The structural constraints outlined in this text—the narrowing of political space, the absence of a credible left, the substitution of personnel for policy—have not been overturned. If anything, the result confirms them. There are no grounds for celebration. Only clarity.
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It is probably of little importance to Hungary that one of its most significant parliamentary elections coincides with Orthodox Easter. Yet those of us on “the other side of the civilizational divide” (even if the author herself is not a believer) may still indulge in a metaphor: will Orbán manage to be reborn once again after sixteen years in power? Will Viktor remain victorious, or will his much younger opponent, will his much younger opponent, Péter Magyar (whose very name means ‘Hungarian,’ turning the contest into a symbolic duel: Orbán vs. ‘The Hungarian(s)’), emerge as the new national leader?” There is a symbolic resonance here, even though coincidental: the rival’s name itself becomes a rhetorical weapon; Magyar can position himself as the “true embodiment” of the nation against Orbán’s personalized rule.
The extraordinary international attention these elections attract in what, at first glance, is a small and seemingly insignificant European country is driven far more by external (geopolitical and geo-economic) factors than by democratic concerns. Orbán has long been branded in the West as a far-right autocrat. In principle, Hungarian elections should represent a “celebration of democracy,” a moment when citizens’ voices are heard and their will respected. Yet public opinion surveys and expert analyses suggest a different picture: while outsiders view Hungary as a battleground within an increasingly fractured transatlantic (and European) bloc, Hungarian citizens themselves are far less concerned with foreign policy. Like people elsewhere, they are preoccupied with the living standard, economic insecurity, migration, and corruption—in simple terms, with their everyday well-being.
From an external perspective, Hungary represents yet another example of internal fractures within the West. Orbán, alongside several other European leaders, has positioned himself as a kind of European echo of Donald Trump—a strongman, populist, and sovereignist. At times, he even cultivates the aura of a “dissident” or “peacemaker,” one of the few leaders willing to challenge Brussels over the escalation of the war in Ukraine. At the same time, he remains a close ally of Benjamin Netanyahu and a participant in Trump’s so-called “peace board.”
He can also be described as a skilled global political operator, capable of balancing Hungary economically between non-Western powers such as Russia, China, and India, while pursuing pragmatic economic diplomacy in the national interest. Yet after sixteen years in power and firm control over state institutions, it is hardly surprising if a leader begins to believe in his own omnipotence and drifts away from both public promises and the interests of those within the system.
There is much more that could be said about Orbán. But, judging from the experience of many countries with long-entrenched rulers, change itself can be good news. The more troubling question, however, is: is it real change—or merely replacement? Who is the successor, and what vision does he offer?
Based on what is currently known about the young Magyar, apart from his energy, charisma, and ability to consolidate the opposition into a single bloc (thereby reducing pluralism and turning the election into a two-camp confrontation), one can only conclude that he is a product of Fidesz itself, or better a political offspring of Orbán’s system, now breaking away to claim leadership. His ideological positioning is best captured in the slogan: “neither left nor right—only Hungary.” In other words, a marginalization of ideology in favor of national rhetoric. This closely mirrors Orbán’s own claim that his party embodies Hungary itself.
Both contenders thus compete on the same terrain (nationalism and conservatism), differing only in nuance. Magyar’s main weapon is his anti-corruption stance, coupled with clear signals that he would be a far more compliant partner within the EU and NATO. Presumably, this is tied to expectations that Hungary would regain access to EU funds, often restricted under Orbán. Yet how this “mathematics” will work—securing financial inflows while simultaneously committing resources to military purposes, including involvement in Ukraine—remains unclear.
Observers of Hungary’s electoral system already point to four possible post-election scenarios, as power distribution depends on a complex institutional mosaic. Magyar could win without real power—or the opposite. A “Bulgarian scenario” of prolonged instability and polarization is also possible. Much will depend on the well-known phenomenon of the “silent majority,” which often decides at the last moment and ultimately tips the balance.
What remains largely overlooked is the narrowed—almost non-existent—pluralist party landscape. While experts debate whether the elections are democratic or fair, few notice the deeper reality: Hungary has effectively become a “left-less country.”
Although I apply strict criteria when defining the left (and would not include social-democratic or liberal variants), the current contest is clearly between two populist, nationalist, conservative figures, with only a minor far-right party (Mi Hazánk Movement) hoping to pick up crumbs in potential coalition negotiations. The Hungarian Socialist Party has withdrawn from the race, while the liberal-left Democratic Coalition may struggle to cross the 5% threshold.
The differences between the main actors lie in age and nuance, not in any meaningful ideological or strategic divergence. Hungary will remain a pawn in larger geopolitical games, while the opposition will merely simulate dissent rather than offer a genuine alternative.
Partly due to historical factors, especially the discrediting of the old left, from which Orbán himself once emerged, and partly due to the systematic narrowing of democratic space, little is likely to change regardless of the electoral outcome. Elections, in this sense, lose their meaning—except perhaps for external geopolitical actors.
The phenomenon of “left-less countries” is becoming increasingly troubling, particularly in states that emerged from behind the “Iron Curtain” with deep hostility toward anything associated with socialism or communism. This is also evident in Slovakia, the Czech Republic, and Poland. In many other European countries, leftist forces are deliberately labeled “far-right” in order to discredit them or blur distinctions with the genuinely rising radical right.
The Czech Republic has gone furthest by banning far-left organizations and even communist symbols, equating them with Nazism. This is not new, but it is intensifying in a world increasingly teetering on the brink, where a genuine left would need the courage to openly support those who refuse submission—not only to Brussels or Washington, but to any hegemonic center.
Hungary thus stands as a case where democratic elections risk becoming a façade without real alternatives. Magyar, like others, looks to Brussels for funding—even as Europe moves toward rearmament, militarization, and industrial conversion for war.
In the Balkans, we have long captured this reality in a simple proverb: “Out goes Murto, in comes Kurto” (Sjaši Murto da uzjaše Kurto). An old comic (the famous Franco-Belgian comic series Iznogoud) from my youth told the story of the Grand Vizier constantly proclaiming: “I want to be Caliph instead of the Caliph.” That, ultimately, is what these elections may bring.
The West will remain divided—with or without Orbán—and Europe is structurally dependent (as my friend Ali Borhani has rightly named vassalallies/vassal-allies to the US), even if, by some miracle, it frees itself from Trump.
It’s the system, stupid. It does not allow real change—only cosmetic replacements.