From Budapest to Warsaw and back again: A democratic reckoning in Central Europe
The memory is small, almost trivial: a green-or perhaps aquamarine-sleeping mat carried across mountain trails in the 1980s. Yet it captures something larger about a vanished world. In those years, for many Poles growing up under late-stage communism, Hungary represented a curious anomaly within the Soviet bloc-a place where life seemed just a little brighter, freer, more colorful. Goods from Hungary carried a quiet prestige, symbols of a system that, while still authoritarian, appeared less suffocating than Poland’s decaying Polish People’s Republic.
That sense of admiration, even envy, was rooted in more than consumer goods. It reflected a broader perception that Hungary had managed to carve out a relatively softer version of socialism-“goulash communism,” as it was often called-offering limited economic flexibility and a slightly more open cultural atmosphere. For Poles navigating shortages, censorship, and political repression, Hungary felt like a narrow window into an alternative reality.
Decades later, that dynamic has not only reversed but also deepened into something far more consequential. Poland, having endured and then rolled back a period of democratic erosion, now finds itself in the unusual position of offering lessons-hard-earned and incomplete-to a Hungary emerging from its own long experiment with illiberal governance.
At the center of Hungary’s recent political trajectory stands Viktor Orbán, whose ascent to power in 2010 marked the beginning of a systematic transformation of the state. What initially appeared to be a conventional conservative victory gradually evolved into a comprehensive restructuring of Hungary’s democratic institutions. Orbán’s party, Fidesz, moved swiftly to consolidate power, targeting key pillars of liberal democracy: the media, the judiciary, and constitutional checks and balances.
The media landscape was among the first to be reshaped. Independent voices faced mounting pressure through regulatory changes, economic constraints, and political intimidation. A network of pro-government outlets emerged, sustained by loyal business elites and state advertising. This new ecosystem did more than promote government narratives-it actively cultivated fear, particularly around issues such as migration and European integration, while discrediting dissenting perspectives.
Simultaneously, the judiciary underwent profound changes. The Constitutional Court’s authority was curtailed, judicial appointments became increasingly politicized, and legal frameworks were rewritten to entrench Fidesz’s influence. Over time, Hungary transitioned from a liberal democracy into what political scientists often describe as a “hybrid regime”-a system retaining the formal structures of democracy but lacking its substantive protections.
Poland would follow a similar path several years later. In 2015, the conservative Law and Justice Party (PiS) came to power with ambitions that echoed Orbán’s model. Its leaders openly admired Hungary’s approach, even promising to create a “Budapest in Warsaw.” Under PiS, Poland experienced its own period of democratic backsliding: public media were transformed into instruments of political messaging, judicial independence was undermined, and state institutions became increasingly aligned with ruling party interests.
The parallels were striking, though not identical. Poland’s institutions, civil society, and political opposition proved more resilient, limiting the extent of institutional capture. Nonetheless, the damage was significant. Public trust eroded, polarization deepened, and the country’s standing within the European Union deteriorated.
One of the most sobering lessons from both cases is the limited capacity-or willingness-of external actors to halt democratic erosion within member states. The European Union, despite its legal frameworks and normative commitments, struggled to respond effectively. Procedures such as Article 7, often described as the bloc’s “nuclear option,” proved cumbersome and politically constrained. As a result, governments in both Hungary and Poland were able to push the boundaries of democratic norms with relatively limited immediate consequences.
In Poland, the turning point came in 2023, when a broad opposition coalition led by Donald Tusk succeeded in unseating PiS. The electoral defeat marked not only a political shift but also the beginning of a complex and uncertain process of institutional recovery. Reversing democratic backsliding, it turns out, is far more difficult than initiating it.
The new government inherited a system riddled with structural distortions. Judicial appointments made under questionable procedures created legal ambiguities that persist to this day. Efforts to restore judicial independence have been complicated by the risk of replicating the very abuses they aim to correct. Meanwhile, key institutions remain staffed by appointees loyal to the previous administration, limiting the pace and scope of reform.
Public media present another formidable challenge. Regulatory bodies designed to be independent have been effectively captured, and their leadership cannot be easily replaced. As a result, efforts to depoliticize state broadcasting face both legal and practical obstacles.
Even in areas where reform enjoys broad public support, progress has been uneven. Debates over issues such as abortion law liberalization have become entangled in political and procedural disputes, highlighting the constraints faced by a government operating within a still-fractured institutional landscape.
It is against this backdrop that Hungary’s recent political transition takes on broader significance. The electoral victory of Péter Magyar signals the end of an era-but not the end of its consequences. If anything, Hungary’s path forward may prove even more challenging than Poland’s, given the longer duration and deeper entrenchment of Fidesz’s rule.
Unlike Tusk’s coalition, however, Magyar reportedly enters office with a stronger parliamentary mandate, potentially including a constitutional majority. This provides a crucial advantage: the ability to enact structural reforms without the same degree of institutional gridlock. Yet it also raises expectations-and the stakes of failure.
Among the most pressing issues facing Hungary is its strained relationship with the European Union. Years of rule-of-law disputes have resulted in the suspension of significant EU funding, with billions of euros effectively frozen. Restoring access to these funds will require more than symbolic gestures. It demands substantive reforms across multiple domains, including judicial independence, anti-corruption measures, academic freedom, and minority rights.
One early signal of intent is Hungary’s prospective engagement with the European Public Prosecutor’s Office, a move that would mark a departure from previous resistance to external oversight. Such steps may help rebuild trust with Brussels, but they represent only the beginning of a longer process.
Equally critical is the question of dismantling entrenched oligarchic networks. Over more than a decade, political and economic power in Hungary became deeply intertwined, creating systems of patronage that are not easily undone. Addressing these structures will require both legal reforms and sustained political will.
The media landscape, once again, stands at the center of the challenge. Years of consolidation have left independent journalism marginalized and state-aligned outlets dominant. Rebuilding a pluralistic media environment is not simply a matter of changing regulations-it involves restoring public trust, ensuring financial viability for independent outlets, and protecting journalists from political interference.
Hungary’s experience also raises broader questions about the nature of democratic resilience. How do institutions recover after prolonged periods of manipulation? How can societies rebuild norms of accountability and transparency? And perhaps most importantly, how can political systems guard against future erosion?
Poland’s recent experience offers partial answers, but no easy solutions. Democratic restoration is not a single event but an ongoing process, marked by setbacks, compromises, and incremental progress. It requires not only institutional reform but also cultural and societal renewal.
For Hungary, the road ahead will likely be long and uneven. Yet the very fact of political change suggests that even deeply entrenched systems are not immutable. Electoral accountability, though imperfect, remains a powerful mechanism for renewal.
In this sense, the relationship between Poland and Hungary has come full circle. Where once Poles looked to Hungary with admiration, today they offer a more sobering perspective: a recognition that democracy, once weakened, is difficult to restore, but not beyond repair.
The old symbolism of “things from Hungary”-once associated with novelty and aspiration-has evolved. It now carries a more complex meaning, shaped by shared experiences of political transformation, democratic erosion, and cautious renewal. If Hungary succeeds in rebuilding its institutions and reasserting its place within the European democratic mainstream, that symbolism may yet shift again-this time reflecting not just difference, but resilience.
And perhaps, in that transformation, Central Europe will once again redefine itself-not as a region caught between past and future, but as one capable of learning from its own history.
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