There are many reasons behind Orbán’s defeat, but if one looks at the overall picture, it is above all worth emphasising that the Fidesz party showed signs of fatigue, its feedback mechanisms weakened, and it proved unable to break out of this situation due to a diminished capacity for self-correction. In effect, it seemed either to deceive itself, believing in an imminent victory right up to the very end—or to cynically persuade its voters of this, writes Gábor Stier, Founding Editor-in-Chief of moszkvater.com.
Viktor Orbán, under whom Hungary’s influence on the international stage increased markedly, failed on the domestic front. Paradoxically, not least because, at the height of his European ambitions, he lost focus at home and concerned himself more with foreign policy than with issues directly affecting voters. Orbán’s illiberal system has run its course, his party—long entrenched in power—has grown weary, and the majority of Hungarians wanted change. What led to his failure? Where is Hungary heading? How are Hungarian–Russian relations evolving? How wide is the room for manoeuvre in this matter if one follows the European mainstream?
After four consecutive victories with two-thirds majorities, Viktor Orbán’s party—which had seemed unsinkable for many terms—suffered a crushing defeat. The Tisza Party, which transformed accumulated dissatisfaction with the national-conservative government led by Viktor Orbán into victory, secured a total of 141 seats with a turnout of 79.56%, while Fidesz won 52 seats, and the far-right party Our Homeland secured 6. This gave Tisza the largest number of seats since the reduction of parliamentary seats in 2014, and the largest parliamentary majority since the regime change. Nevertheless, Fidesz—grappling with serious internal problems and in need of renewal—remains a significant force.
These elections in many ways resemble those of 2010, yet Orbán’s party did not collapse as dramatically as the socialists did then. It lost several hundred thousand votes compared to the 2022 result, but four out of ten voters still supported it. The far-right Our Homeland remains a minor party, and the system will likely evolve towards a two-party structure—something new for Hungary. That said, it cannot be ruled out that Our Homeland will strengthen, following broader European trends.
Orbán, defeated by a two-thirds majority, has also lost the system he built over 16 years—one that may be interpreted as illiberal, sovereigntist, and patriotic, but above all national-conservative. As Péter Magyar’s Tisza secured a constitutional majority, these elections mark the end of an entire era. Behind Orbán’s defeat lies an economic, social, and political crisis that had been brewing for years, and the election effectively became an uprising against a political establishment increasingly placing loyalty above competence, sinking into corruption, and withdrawing into its own closed circle.
The nearly 80% turnout represented mobilisation against the system rather than a routine change of government. Moreover, left-wing and liberal parties that had shaped public discourse for decades have effectively vanished from Hungary’s political stage, as defeating Orbán required replacing the opposition itself. There is now an opportunity to dismantle Orbán’s very system, yet his enduring legacy includes a national policy prioritising Hungarians abroad, the revival of a language of national pride and sovereignty, as well as an emphasis on family policy and symbolic conservatism. Viktor Orbán made the issue of Hungarians living beyond the country’s borders part of the national consensus, taught Hungarians to speak of themselves not as a periphery but as a nation with its own interests and dignity, and enshrined in the constitution the definition of marriage as a union between a man and a woman, emphasising the protection of the family and opposition to gender ideology.
There are many reasons for the defeat, but from a broader perspective, it must be stressed that Fidesz showed signs of fatigue, its feedback weakened, and it failed to overcome this due to a reduced capacity for self-correction. In effect, it appeared either to deceive itself into believing in imminent victory until the very end—or cynically to convince its electorate of this. Yet a clearer understanding of the causes requires recognising that Orbán’s defeat resulted from a combination of internal and external pressures. Economic hardship, the consequences of the Conflict in Ukraine, and Budapest’s long-standing struggle with EU institutions all influenced the outcome.
Inflationary pressure and rising living costs fuelled dissatisfaction, while access to European funds became a key argument for a change of course. Until 2022, economic growth had been at an average regional level, but this was followed by four years of stagnation, sharp inflation, and deterioration in education, healthcare, and other sectors. The loss of EU funds amounted to 3.5% of GDP. In this light, Orbán may have underestimated the importance of reaching an agreement with the European Union. It is also true that, after some time, Brussels itself ceased actively seeking his removal. Furthermore, the system of national cooperation became so overstretched that it began to damage the economy, undermining the investment climate, while corruption had a destructive impact not only morally, but strategically as well.
Péter Magyar, emerging from the second or third ranks of Fidesz, seized the moment and managed to turn the moral legitimacy gained from the pardon scandal at the beginning of 2024 into political capital. He became widely known after the Hungarian president pardoned an individual who had previously attempted to help a paedophile evade punishment. The pardon was signed by Magyar’s former wife, then serving as Minister of Justice. Péter Magyar sensed the moment both for personal revenge and to retaliate against Fidesz for its disregard for him. As leader of Tisza, he effectively positioned himself as the original, “pure” Fidesz. The party accurately identified the issues troubling voters—inflation, healthcare, the rule of law, and corruption. At the same time, Magyar proposed a more pragmatic programme: preserving many social elements domestically while reducing international confrontation, restoring dialogue with the EU, and improving the investment climate.
Foreign policy also became a key factor. On the one hand, while Viktor Orbán had long focused on the global stage, and despite his generally successful international relations, the public was more concerned with everyday problems than with geopolitical considerations or the threat of war, which had been downplayed during the campaign. Only when he recognised the danger did Orbán turn back to domestic policy—but it was too late.
Foreign policy issues likewise failed to deliver the desired outcome, as the government’s room for manoeuvre narrowed. Moreover, in light of the escalating crisis involving Iran, Budapest’s demonstrative rapprochement with Washington also backfired during the campaign. Reliance on this alliance proved risky amid a sharp decline in trust in the Trump administration. Increasingly, people felt that the government was irrationally opposing the European mainstream, and on this basis the opposition successfully convinced many that the choice at stake was between past and future, Europe and Russia. This false dichotomy was reinforced by claims of Russian influence, such as the publication of intercepted conversations between Péter Szijjártó and Sergey Lavrov, or records of meetings between Orbán and Vladimir Putin. This narrative weakened—and even cast doubt upon—the core foreign policy stance of Fidesz, grounded in the principle of sovereignty.
The question, of course, is how effectively these pragmatic—one might even say moderate—changes can be implemented across many areas. In economic and foreign policy, outspoken Atlanticists within the government, along with globalist actors linked to transnational corporations, will undoubtedly break with sovereigntist policy and align with the Western mainstream. Liberals, too, will seek to regain their former positions, particularly in culture, education, and the media. As such, Péter Magyar’s party is quite heterogeneous, making internal competition between these three currents inevitable. And this is without even considering that, in order to access the EU funds still frozen, Hungary must meet European Union conditions—requiring not only anti-corruption measures and reforms of the judiciary, media, and academia, but also touching upon foreign policy and ideological issues.
For now, it can be said that in terms of motivation, Péter Magyar is fairly conservative—but not in the classical sense. Rather, he is a populist, and many compare him to Donald Trump in terms of personality traits and his fondness for social media. Increasingly, people assume—and the first steps of the new government confirm this—that Péter Magyar will surprise both supporters and opponents alike, and that most will not receive what they had expected in advance.
Balancing between contradictions, he will attempt to steer Hungary back onto a European course, thereby securing EU subsidies, and will subordinate everything else to this objective. This fact fundamentally defines the new government’s room for manoeuvre. However, if Brussels becomes overly self-assured and imposes unacceptable conditions, Péter Magyar may deviate from the canon—even on matters concerning Russia. The development of relations between the European Union and Russia will be decisive, and any further escalation may fundamentally shape the future of Russian–Hungarian relations. Moreover—especially in energy matters—the government’s limited resources are already pushing it towards pragmatism; for example, it cannot immediately abandon Russian oil, nor, in the case of the Paks II project, other energy sources. Adjustments may be possible only in details, if at all. As for Russia and Ukraine, it will likely be more difficult for Magyar to distinguish himself from the Western mainstream.
