It Is Time We Admitted That Voting Out Viktor Orbán Is a Dangerous Escalation of Democracy

As I watched the footage of tens of thousands of jubilant Hungarians pouring into the streets of Budapest this weekend to celebrate the swearing-in of Péter Magyar, I couldn't help but feel a profound sense of mourning. To the untrained eye—perhaps to the naïve idealists who still believe that governments should occasionally change hands—this looked like a triumph. A historic regime change, as Magyar himself so recklessly phrased it. But as a veteran geopolitical observer who has spent the last decade and a half enjoying heavily subsidized, VIP-access press junkets to the Danube, I must ask the difficult question: Is a landslide democratic election really worth the catastrophic loss of predictability?

For sixteen years, Viktor Orbán provided something increasingly rare in modern Europe: absolute, unyielding, creatively gerrymandered stability. You always knew exactly who was in charge. You knew exactly which of his childhood friends was receiving the state construction contracts. You knew exactly which marginalized group would be blamed for the inflation rate on any given Tuesday. It was a well-oiled machine, carefully calibrated to ensure that no one ever had to endure the exhausting cognitive burden of genuine political choice.

Now, the Tisza party has swept all that away in a single, thoughtless afternoon of voting.

What makes this particularly bitter is that Péter Magyar used to be one of us. As a former insider, he knows firsthand the sheer amount of administrative labor required to build an illiberal democracy from scratch. During an exclusive retreat at Lake Balaton last year, a senior Fidesz operative—whose name I will withhold to protect his offshore accounts—confided in me the grueling reality of maintaining a modern autocracy. Do the voters of Hungary have any idea how many late nights were spent rewriting the constitution to ensure opposition parties could never mathematically win? The sheer elbow grease it took to systematically purchase every independent newspaper and turn them into identical state propaganda outlets?

This was not the work of a day. It was the masterwork of an era. And Magyar’s supporters have casually tossed it into the recycling bin simply because they wanted checks and balances and integration with Europe. It is, frankly, a staggering display of generational entitlement.

Magyar stood before the crowds on Saturday and invited them to step through the gate of regime change. It is a lovely, poetic piece of rhetoric. But what awaits them on the other side of that gate? The messy, chaotic business of actual governance. Under Orbán, Hungarians were freed from the burden of wondering what the government might do next, because the government was simply going to do whatever Viktor Orbán thought of in the shower that morning. By choosing a pro-European centre-right leader, the electorate has selfishly demanded a return to the tedious drudgery of parliamentary debate.

I am particularly devastated for the hardworking oligarchs. These are men who built sprawling empires on the entirely reasonable assumption that their close personal friend would remain prime minister until the end of recorded time. What are they supposed to do now? Compete in a free market? Submit competitive bids for public infrastructure projects? It is cruel and unusual punishment to spring this on them after sixteen years of bespoke, no-bid luxury.

Consider, too, the tragedy of the dismantled electoral maps. Orbán’s architects spent years drawing districts with the intricate precision of Renaissance masters, ensuring that a Fidesz vote in the countryside counted exactly as much as was necessary to neutralize a dozen opposition votes in Budapest. That map belonged in a museum. Instead, it is being torn up by a mob of voters who fail to appreciate the artistry of a rigged system.

Then there is the human cost within the state media apparatus. For over a decade, Hungarian news anchors have enjoyed the serene, stress-free existence of simply reading government press releases verbatim off a teleprompter. Now, under Magyar’s proposed reforms, these poor professionals are facing the terrifying prospect of having to independently verify information before broadcasting it. The mental toll of this sudden transition to actual journalism cannot be overstated.

Furthermore, we must address the geopolitical ramifications. The European Union has spent years engaged in a thrilling, high-stakes game of bureaucratic chicken with Budapest, withholding billions in funding while Orbán vetoed everything in sight. It was a fascinating dynamic that provided endless material for columnists like myself. When Orbán delayed NATO expansions or blocked aid to Ukraine, it gave the continent a necessary villain. It gave us friction.

Now, Magyar threatens to act like a normal, cooperative European partner. Where is the drama in that? Brussels must be weeping. They are going to have to find an entirely new rogue state to write strongly worded letters to, and frankly, Slovakia simply doesn't have the same dramatic flair.

Perhaps I am a traditionalist. Perhaps I am simply nostalgic for a time when a leader could proudly declare his state illiberal and face absolutely no electoral consequences. But as Péter Magyar takes the oath of office, and the so-called Orbán era officially comes to a close, I cannot bring myself to join the jubilation.

Hungary has traded the comforting, warm blanket of soft authoritarianism for the cold, unpredictable winds of the democratic process. They have chosen the chaotic unknown over the reassuring certainty of one-man rule. I fear that in a few short years, when they are forced to participate in another fair election, they will look back and realize the terrible mistake they have made.