Next spring, Hungary will hold parliamentary elections, and for the first time in 15 years, there appears to be a real chance that Viktor Orbán and his party, Fidesz, could lose power. The ruling party has never seemed this disoriented, as if it had grown too accustomed to the comforts of having no real challenger. However, this time that may be changing: According to most polls, the Tisza Party, led by Péter Magyar, now clearly outpaces Fidesz. The key questions are: Where did this party come from, how did it become so popular in just a few months, and can it truly defeat Orbán? Almost equally important is what political direction Magyar and his party represent.
Orbán’s party first appeared on the political scene at the fall of communism as a group of young urban liberals – their name refers to the Alliance of Young Democrats. Twenty years later, rebranded as a centre-right, civic conservative party, they were granted an exceptional opportunity: Due to flaws in the electoral system, a single landslide victory enabled them to carry out a legislative revolution, rewriting the constitution, changing electoral rules, and filling key institutions with allies and loyal officials. Fidesz quickly shed its civil, centre-right cloak, shifting in rapid time to the far right of the spectrum and becoming one of the first successful representatives of the European populist wave.
Their complete grip on power hollowed out parliamentary institutions; the electoral law was tailored to Orbán’s liking, and a massive propaganda machine, funded by extreme amounts of money, destroyed any credible opposition. However, these developments also depended on the decade‑long economic boom that was powering the EU’s economy. As post‑COVID inflation and the energy crunch hit, not only did Hungary’s fragile economic foundations collapse, but so did Fidesz’s previously unshakeable popularity.
After the 2022 elections, Hungarian politics was dominated by apathy, and Orbán openly shifted his focus to foreign affairs, since a repeatedly failed opposition posed no threat. Then came the clemency scandal in early 2024: It emerged that the president, who had effectively been handpicked by Orbán, had granted a pardon to a man who had helped cover up a child abuse case. Riding the wave of public outrage over this scandal, Magyar emerged virtually from nowhere and, within weeks, rose from being a Fidesz insider to being the government’s most serious challenger in mere months.
Magyar entered the establishment via his then‑wife, Justice Minister Judit Varga, but after their divorce he grew increasingly critical of Fidesz, especially when Varga herself imploded in the child abuse scandal, and he finally stepped into the public eye. A man from Fidesz’s inner circle, he has convinced parts of public opinion that he knows what happens behind the scenes, making his critique feel more credible than that of the long‑standing opposition. Just four months after entering the stage, his party, Tisza, garnered 29.6% in the 2024 European Parliament elections – a remarkable feat internationally, and almost unheard of in the decades‑stagnant Hungarian political scene.
The election results clearly showed that the “old opposition” is finished; those parties have all suffered significant setbacks, and today, apart from Fidesz and Tisza, only the Democratic Coalition (which split long ago from the Socialist Party) and the satirical Two-Tailed Dog Party, which represents a system-critical, fundamentally social-liberal, and partly green agenda, have a minimal chance of being elected apart from the far-right Mi Hazánk group, which collaborates with Fidesz in many respects and cannot be considered genuinely in opposition. Tisza first caught up to Fidesz in the polls in late 2024, then overtook it, and now consistently enjoys a 5–10% lead.
Analysts attribute Magyar’s success to several factors: Timing, in that he revived hope for change just as opposition sentiment was waning; the ability to convince voters that Fidesz is beatable if a new force steps up; and his exceptional communication skills – he’s hard to embarrass, immune to character‑assassination attempts, and appears fully capable of performing the role of prime minister.
Though Tisza’s base primarily consists of former opposition voters, many ex‑Fidesz supporters have shifted toward them as well, often under the slogan: “I’ll vote for anyone who removes Orbán”, albeit with some scepticism. Magyar’s party is essentially a one‑man operation, which is not uncommon in, say, the Czech Republic: While a few figures orbit around him, Tisza is synonymous with Magyar himself. As a result, the party lacks a firm ideology – only whatever Magyar himself declares, matters.
The most common critique of Tisza is that Magyar, as Orbán’s best pupil, says whatever he believes his audience wants to hear. Although he defines his party as centre‑right, in reality he avoids any clear ideological stance, often addressing disgruntled conservatives, disappointed leftists, and apolitical masses alike. He promises accountability, order, and the eradication of corruption, while sensitive social issues such as migration, LGBTQ rights, or the future of civil society and the media are largely omitted from his messaging. Clearly, commenting on topics such as limiting university autonomy, expelling the Central European University from Budapest, or targeting NGOs as “foreign agents” are not election‑winning issues in Hungary, but taking a stance on them could mean a great deal to many at a juncture like this.
In contrast to Orbán’s overtures to eastern dictatorships, Magyar did not unequivocally commit to a western orientation for Hungary until as late as this July. Many criticize his Facebook‑based politics; while undeniably effective, the tactic focuses on him commenting on every media report, publicly sulking when his numerous appearances aren’t covered enough, and so on.
Magyar has tactically distanced himself from the “old opposition,” striving to maintain an equal distance from all other political forces. It is not impossible that if mass discontent with Fidesz peaks, Magyar could win a two‑thirds majority, effectively gaining full power, which would unsettle many. For now, however, no other opposition party seems likely to enter parliament and force Tisza into a coalition.
Still, it would be premature to write off Orbán. Fidesz has already shown it spares no expense when it comes to holding power, and now it is fighting for its political life. The party has unlimited funds, has previously deployed intelligence tools for this purpose, and can amend electoral law at will. Hungary has been under a “state of danger due to war” for years, which the government could use as justification for radical steps at any moment. Any chance for an opponent hinges on there being such overwhelming public opposition to Orbán that manipulation by him would become too transparently obvious. Hungary’s EU membership may help block a Belarus‑ or Georgia-style path, but nothing can be ruled out yet.
Fidesz continues to show no sign of undertaking serious policy corrections, announcing more giveaways and further straining an already crisis‑ridden state treasury. The government also has not withdrawn its so‑called transparency law, a bill which would in reality enable full state control over civil society and the media. The vote on the bill has been postponed until the fall. Orbán continues to act as if Tisza’s popularity is merely an ephemeral, online phenomenon, something that can be handled with communications alone. Meanwhile, Magyar is doing the opposite: Taking politics off of social media and bringing it to the ground, traveling the countryside to speak personally to voters, especially in regions that used to be Fidesz’s strongest support bases. This contrast between the grassroots “man-of-the‑people” claimant to the “throne” and an isolated, comfortable powermonger who speaks only within his own media bubble is stark.
With just eight months until the elections, everything in Hungary remains open: Orbán may fall, or he may remain in power even though a majority appears to dislike him. In that case, it is questionable whether the democracy’s increasingly fragile façade can be sustained, likely prompting many to turn their back on the country entirely. At the same time, one cannot rule out a political upheaval equivalent to a regime change, ushering in an entirely new elite – of which we still know very little.
This text was originally published in the magazine Sedmá generace, issue 4/2025, with the support of the Heinrich-Böll-Stiftung Prague.
