For several weeks, the contentious legacy of the so-called Beneš Decrees has once again surged to the forefront of political discourse in Slovakia and neighbouring Hungary. A legislative amendment proposed by the Fico government—which prohibits any questioning ofthe post-war expulsion of ethnic Hungarians and the confiscation of their property from legal challenge—has created a significant rift between these two EU allies. This resurgence of historical grievance comes at a sensitive political juncture, with the potential to become a volatile wildcard in Hungary’s parliamentary elections this April and Slovakia’s own polls next year.
The Edvard Beneš Decrees
The so-called Beneš Decrees comprise a series of legal instruments issued by Czechoslovak President Edvard Beneš between 1941 and 1945. Originally drafted during the Second World War, these decrees were subsequently codified into the laws of the restored Czechoslovak Republic. Of the 144 decrees issued in total—many of which have since been amended or repealed—nine foreign-issued and 48 domestic decrees remain integrated into the modern legal frameworks of both the Czech and Slovak Republics.
A specific subset of these decrees addressed the status of ethnic minorities—most notably the Sudeten Germans in the Czech lands, and the Hungarian and Carpathian German populations in Slovakia. It is often argued that, politically, the Beneš Decrees are a "spent force"—relics of a bygone era intended for historical research rather than active governance. However, recent developments suggest that history has not yet reached its conclusion; instead, these decrees retain a potent ambition to actively re-emerge within contemporary political discourse.
It would be inaccurate to suggest that the issue of the Beneš Decrees has lain dormant since 1989. For decades, ethnic Hungarian politicians have highlighted the decrees as a quintessential example of historical injustice—specifically through the application of the principle of collective guilt. Under these measures, the vast majority of Slovakia’s Hungarian population were stripped of their Czechoslovak citizenship and political rights, including the franchise. Furthermore, the decrees facilitated the systemic seizure of their property and land, ultimately leading to their displacement—either through expulsion to Hungary or forced relocation to western Czechia to repopulate areas vacated by the Sudeten Germans.
Slovakia’s ethnic Hungarian parties—from the former Strana maďarskej koalície (Hungarian Coalition Party) and Most-Híd (Bridge) to today’s Aliancia (Alliance)—have consistently lacked the political leverage to unilaterally address the redress of historical injustices, even as coalition partners. Their Slovak counterparts, primarily pro-democratic centre-right parties, have never been receptive enough to support such contentious reforms. While these partners showed greater flexibility on issues such as minority language rights, education, and local development, they met any proposal to reconsider the most controversial aspects of the Beneš Decrees with studied indifference.
Beyond the symbolic necessity of coming to terms with the past—such as formal expressions of regret—the legacy of the Beneš Decrees retains a significant practical dimension. Specifically, certain provisions continue to be invoked in ongoing land disputes. These cases predominantly involve ethnic Hungarians seeking to reclaim ancestral property, only to have the Land Fund or the courts rule against them—a situation affecting an estimated several dozen citizens.
While Hungarian representatives, legal experts, and politicians have long protested this practice, the issue remained a blind spot for the Slovak majority until very recently. Hidden from public view, the problem is exacerbated by a lack of broader societal empathy toward the Hungarian minority. According to the most recent census by the Statistical Office of the Slovak Republic, 456,154 citizens identify as ethnic Hungarian, representing approximately 7.75% of the total population.
Slovak Politics: From Rhetoric to Criminalisation
It came as a considerable surprise to the Slovak political and media establishment when, in November 2025, the leading opposition force—the social-liberal Progresívne Slovensko (Progressive Slovakia, PS)—reopened the debate on the Beneš Decrees. Crucially, the party focused on the practical consequences of the decrees, particularly the resolution of ongoing land disputes. Following a series of regional visits to southern Slovakia—an area with a high concentration of ethnic Hungarian citizens—PS leadership met with locals to discuss their socio-economic grievances. Upon their return, the party issued a formal statement calling for a definitive resolution to these disputed land claims, effectively breaking a long-standing political silence on the issue.
The reaction from the ruling coalition (Smer-SD, Hlas-SD, and the SNS) was immediate. They attacked PS, accusing the liberals of betraying "national interests." Such a response was anticipated; the governing parties have seen their ratings stagnate or decline for some time. According to current polling, the coalition would be unable to secure a parliamentary majority and would likely have to cede power to the opposition, whose support has stabilised and continues to grow.
Ethnic nationalism in Slovakia is a well-worn tool for mobilising voters when other arguments falter. The outcome was exactly as anticipated by politicians, analysts, and the media alike: the nationalists within the governing coalition attacked Progresívne Slovensko, accusing them of harbouring malicious intent toward the state. In turn, the liberals defended their position by arguing that the government, lacking other options, had resorted to playing the so-called "Hungarian card"—or, more accurately, the anti-Hungarian card.
But then, events took an unexpected turn. In a bid to project a principled defence of "national interests," the government coalition led by Prime Minister Robert Fico moved beyond mere rhetoric. The government has resorted to the direct intimidation and criminalisation of the opposition—specifically Progresívne Slovensko and other potential ideological opponents. Crucially, this is no longer limited to verbal attacks; it has transitioned into actual criminalisation, now codified into law.
In a fast-tracked amendment to the Criminal Code—passed without proper parliamentary debate—the Fico government introduced a new criminal offence: "questioning the consequences of the Second World War." Specifically, this involves denying or disputing the Beneš Decrees, a crime now punishable by up to a year in prison.
This move suggests a certain ideological kinship with the current Russian regime, which similarly criminalises dissent by accusing opponents of "questioning the struggle of the Soviet people" during the Great Patriotic War. However, Fico’s government has also triggered an unexpected and significant shift in both domestic party politics and Slovak-Hungarian relations. These consequences could profoundly shake up the political landscape ahead of the Hungarian elections in April 2026 and the Slovak polls in autumn 2027.
A Political Own Goal
These shifts represent a series of developments that are fundamentally detrimental to Robert Fico and Smer-SD. The move has undermined Fico’s domestic standing and strained his relationship with his closest European ally, Hungarian Prime Minister Viktor Orbán. Ultimately, the amendment to the Criminal Code regarding the Beneš Decrees has become a textbook case of counterproductive and self-defeating politics—a clear political "shot in the foot."
The government approached the amendment with cold calculation, convinced it would deliver a decisive political blow to Progresívne Slovensko. However, they grossly underestimated the reality that the law’s consequences would fall far more heavily on Slovakia's Hungarian minority. Furthermore, they failed to foresee the damaging impact their actions would have on bilateral relations with Budapest.
Following the approval of the amendment, the extra-parliamentary Aliancia party abandoned its long-held stance of apparent neutrality. While the party had previously leaned toward the Fico government during the bitter conflict between the coalition and the opposition, it has now formally aligned with the latter. Aliancia representatives have begun participating in protest rallies organised by the opposition. In a further blow to the government, former Aliancia chairman Krisztián Forró—who had supported Peter Pellegrini’s presidential campaign and served as an advisor to the President—demonstratively resigned from his post.
What are the practical implications of these developments? Put simply, any future cooperation between Aliancia and the current governing parties will remain impossible as long as this amendment stays on the statute books. Consequently, Smer-SD has lost a vital potential partner. Conversely, a new path has opened for a coalition between the Slovak opposition and Aliancia—a shift that could usher in a fundamental change in power after the 2027 elections through the formation of a pro-democratic, pro-European government.
Furthermore, Aliancia may now stem the loss of its more liberal and pro-European supporters. These voters had previously been drifting away, largely due to the party’s perceived pact with Fico’s coalition; that trend may now begin to reverse.
A Diplomatic Crisis: Bratislava vs. Budapest
How might this scandal impact Slovak-Hungarian relations? Several scenarios are emerging. The Slovak amendment has left both Fico and Orbán in an unenviable position, but with the April 2026 elections looming, Orbán is particularly exposed. Hungary’s leading opposition party, Tisza, led by Péter Magyar, has accused the Prime Minister of passivity and hypocrisy in his partnership with Fico—a leader who has shown no hesitation in targeting the interests of Slovakia's Hungarian minority.
Orbán could not afford to remain silent. In a significant escalation, Hungary has filed a formal complaint with the European Commission via an open letter, signalling a serious political rift between the two neighbours.
The amendment has handed the Hungarian opposition leader, Péter Magyar, a potent new weapon: the "Slovak card." As long as this legislative travesty remains in force, Magyar can exploit it with minimal effort to score significant political points. In effect, Fico has undermined his most vital European ally at a time when he is needed most.
Orbán’s frustration is palpable. The sheer speed of the Slovak legislative process deprived him of the chance to dissuade Fico from this reckless course behind closed doors. Now, cornered by his primary rival, Orbán finds himself forced into a much more confrontational stance than he likely intended.
Péter Magyar holds a distinct tactical advantage over Orbán: he can criticise Fico without having to weigh the diplomatic fallout. Magyar has already begun weaponising the Slovak amendment, and there is a real possibility he will "go all out"—deploying radical nationalist rhetoric to attack both Orbán and Fico simultaneously. In contrast, Orbán is forced to tread a much finer line. Robert Fico remains his sole reliable ally within the European Council, making him an indispensable, if frustrating, partner. While Orbán is likely incensed by Fico’s recent actions, he cannot afford to sever ties.
The future of this dispute will hinge largely on the outcome of the Hungarian elections in April 2026. Should Fidesz remain in power, Fico is likely to proceed with caution; he, too, cannot afford to alienate a key strategic ally.
However, if Orbán were to lose and Péter Magyar were to take office, Fico may well shed all remaining inhibitions. Faced with an opposition-led Budapest, Fico could play the "Hungarian card" to its fullest extent in the lead-up to the Slovak elections in autumn 2027. No longer tethered to an ally in Hungary, he would have little reason to maintain the veneer of non-conflictual Slovak-Hungarian relations.
The sudden political eruption in Bratislava and Budapest over the Beneš Decrees serves as a stark reminder that nationalism in Central Europe remains a dormant beast, capable of baring its teeth at any moment. It has also exposed the limitations of authoritarian populists who—regardless of their ethnic background—often undermine their own interests with short-sighted and counterproductive strategies.
However, should this affair ultimately lead to the weakening of authoritarian populism in the region, it would stand as a remarkable example of unintended consequences.
