The Quiet Revolution Taking Place in Hungary Is Very Bad News for Viktor Orbán

A quiet political upheaval is taking shape in Hungary, one that threatens to end the long reign of Prime Minister Viktor Orbán and the ruling Fidesz party. At the center of this transformation is Péter Magyar, a 44-year-old former government insider turned charismatic opposition leader, who is now galvanizing a restless electorate with promises of justice, transparency, and a return to Europe.

What began as a modest breakaway movement last year has rapidly grown into a national phenomenon. Magyar’s new party, Tisza—short for “Respect and Freedom”—has surged in the polls, overtaking Fidesz by double digits in several national surveys. According to the latest Median poll, Tisza now commands 51 percent of support among decided voters, while Fidesz has fallen to 36 percent—a 15-point gap that would have seemed unthinkable just a year ago. Among voters under 40, Tisza’s support climbs even higher, a sign that the party’s momentum is not only real but generational.

In a country where opposition forces have for over a decade been fragmented, marginalized, or quietly co-opted, the sudden rise of a unified, energetic alternative marks a profound shift.

Magyar’s message is both simple and incendiary: Orbán has transformed Hungary into a kleptocracy.

In his speeches, he accuses the prime minister of overseeing the looting of Hungary’s public wealth, blaming Fidesz’s leadership for turning the country into the poorest in the European Union. He has openly called for Orbán to face trial at the European Court of Justice for systemic corruption and abuse of power. Such rhetoric, once unthinkable in Hungary’s stifled political climate, is now drawing massive crowds from Pécs to Nyíregyháza.

The appeal of Magyar is as much about who he is as what he represents. With a lawyer’s precision and a populist’s instinct, he connects with ordinary voters in a way few opposition figures have. His town-hall style events—he walks from village to village, speaking with citizens face-to-face—stand in stark contrast to the media-managed, security-cloaked appearances of Orbán. For many, he is the first political figure in years who feels accessible, genuine, and unafraid.

Orbán, whose dominance over Hungarian politics has seemed unshakable since his return to power in 2010, now appears vulnerable.

His once-vaunted political machine—buoyed by state media, loyal oligarchs, and EU subsidies—has been battered by inflation, stagnant wages, and mounting frustration over Hungary’s growing isolation from the West. His government’s refusal to support Ukraine’s defense against Russia, its obstruction of EU foreign policy, and its deepening ties to Vladimir Putin have left many Hungarians questioning whether Orbán’s foreign policy serves the country or merely his own survival.

That question has become especially sharp since Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. While Europe rallied to Kyiv’s defense, Orbán dug in with Moscow—refusing weapons transfers, blocking EU sanctions, and hosting Russian diplomats even as atrocities mounted. The perception that Hungary has become Putin’s outpost inside the EU has deeply unsettled younger voters and driven a wedge between Budapest and its Western allies.

It is precisely that disillusionment that Magyar has tapped into. His campaign centers not only on cleaning up corruption, but on reorienting Hungary back toward the democratic core of Europe. He has pledged to restore relations with NATO and the EU, rejoin the European Public Prosecutor’s Office, lift blocks on military aid to Ukraine, and reform the judiciary to ensure independence from political pressure.