This is the first time I feel like it's good to be Hungarian
After sixteen years, Hungary has turned a page — not merely in politics, but in its sense of what is possible. On Europe Day in Budapest, Péter Magyar was sworn in as prime minister, his Tisza party having won a commanding parliamentary majority on a promise to dismantle illiberal rule and restore Hungary's place within the European family. The moment arrived not through revolution but through the quiet, accumulated weight of citizens who had watched institutions hollow out and finally chose otherwise.
- A country that had grown accustomed to one man's grip on power found itself, in a single election, reclaiming its democratic institutions — Magyar's Tisza party swept 141 of 199 seats in what analysts are calling Hungary's most consequential vote since 1990.
- The ceremony crackled with symbolic defiance: the EU flag Orbán had removed from parliament twelve years ago was carried back inside, and the date chosen — Europe Day — sent an unmistakable signal about the direction of the new government.
- Magyar has moved quickly, suspending state media outlets that served as government mouthpieces and issuing a deadline for Orbán-era loyalists — including the president — to resign, while crowds outside parliament roared approval.
- Beneath the celebration lies a daunting inheritance: a stagnating economy, a bloated budget deficit, crumbling public services, and Orbán's loyalists still embedded in courts, universities, and newsrooms — each a potential site of resistance.
- For ordinary Hungarians, the stakes are deeply personal — families separated by politically motivated job losses, teachers who watched their schools deteriorate, citizens who emigrated and now dare to wonder whether they might come home.
On a Saturday in May, tens of thousands gathered outside Hungary's parliament in Budapest to witness something many had stopped believing possible: the end of Viktor Orbán's sixteen-year rule. Péter Magyar, a forty-five-year-old pro-European politician and former Orbán insider who turned against the system in early 2024, was sworn in as prime minister after his Tisza party won a landslide — 141 of 199 parliamentary seats. The crowd cheered. Some wept. Magyar spoke of stepping through "the gate of regime change" and writing Hungarian history together.
His rise had been improbable. Until recently an obscure figure, Magyar began speaking publicly about what he had witnessed from inside Orbán's circle — the corruption, the capture of institutions, the enrichment of loyalists. Voters listened. Inside parliament on swearing-in day, he catalogued what he said needed to be undone: a judiciary packed with allies, a media turned to propaganda, an education system starved of resources. He named the sitting president as the first Orbán-era appointee who should resign.
The ceremony was laden with deliberate symbolism. Held on Europe Day, it featured the return of the EU flag to parliament, performances of multiple national anthems honoring Hungary's minorities and diaspora, and the appointment of the country's first visually impaired government minister. Women now make up more than a quarter of parliament — a record.
For many in the crowd, the day carried the weight of personal loss finally acknowledged. A retired teacher from Miskolc said it was the first time she felt proud to be Hungarian. A seventy-year-old woman spoke of her two children forced abroad after losing jobs she believed were taken in retaliation for her own dissent — and of her hope that they might now return home.
Magyar has promised to rebuild Hungary's relationship with the EU, unlock frozen funds, and dismantle what Orbán himself once called a "petri dish for illiberalism." He has already suspended state broadcaster outlets and returned a large donation from an Orbán-linked supporter. But the road ahead is hard: the economy is stagnating, the deficit is high, and Orbán's loyalists remain entrenched across the judiciary, academia, and media. Orbán, now sixty-two, has said he will reorganize his movement rather than remain in parliament. Whether Magyar can govern through that resistance will determine not just his tenure, but Hungary's future in Europe.
On a Saturday in May, tens of thousands of Hungarians gathered in the square outside parliament in Budapest to witness something they had stopped believing would happen: the end of Viktor Orbán's sixteen-year hold on power. Péter Magyar, a forty-five-year-old pro-European centre-right politician, was sworn in as prime minister, his Tisza party having won a landslide victory a month earlier with 141 of the 199 parliamentary seats. The ceremony itself became a kind of national exhale. Magyar stood before the crowds and spoke of writing Hungarian history together, of stepping through "the gate of regime change." The people cheered. Some wept.
Magyar's rise had been swift and improbable. Until early 2024, he had been a relatively obscure figure, a former member of Orbán's inner circle. Then he turned. He began speaking publicly about what he had witnessed from inside the system—the rot, the expansion of power and wealth among Orbán's associates, the hollowing out of institutions. The public listened. When elections came, they voted decisively for change.
Inside parliament, Magyar laid out the scale of what he believed needed to be undone. Under Orbán, he said, Hungary had become the most corrupt country in the European Union. The judiciary had been stacked with loyalists. The media had been turned into state propaganda. The education system had been starved of funds. He called on Orbán-era appointees to resign by month's end, naming the president, Tamás Sulyok, as the first who should go. The crowd outside roared approval at each demand for accountability.
The symbolic weight of the day was deliberate. The ceremony took place on Europe Day, the anniversary of the proposal that led to the modern European Union. The EU flag, which Orbán's government had removed from parliament in 2014, was returned to the building. Several national anthems were performed, honoring Hungary's EU membership, its Roma minority, and ethnic Hungarians in neighboring countries. A visually impaired lawyer, Vilmos Kátai-Németh, was appointed as minister of social and family affairs—the first such appointment in the country's post-communist history. More than a quarter of the new parliament's lawmakers are women, a record high.
For many in the crowd, the moment carried the weight of personal loss. Erzsébet Medve, sixty-eight, had traveled from Miskolc in northeastern Hungary. As a school teacher, she had watched for years as the education system deteriorated under Orbán's watch. "This is the first time I feel like it's good to be Hungarian," she said, her voice breaking. Nearby, Marianna Szűcs, seventy, spoke of her two children who had been forced to move abroad after losing their jobs—losses she believed were retaliation for her own public criticism of the government. "Now we hope they will be able to come home," she said.
Magyar has promised to rebuild Hungary's fractured relationship with the European Union and to unlock billions in frozen EU funds. He has vowed to dismantle the systems Orbán built—what the former prime minister himself had called a "petri dish for illiberalism." He has already suspended broadcasts from state media outlets that functioned as government mouthpieces and returned millions of Hungarian forints that an Orbán-linked supporter had donated to him.
Yet the task ahead is formidable. Hungary's economy is stagnating. The budget deficit remains stubbornly high. Public services are crumbling. And Orbán's loyalists remain embedded throughout the judiciary, academia, and media—their response to change remains uncertain. Orbán himself, now sixty-two, has said he will focus on reorganizing his movement rather than sit in parliament, a historic break from his decades-long political career that began when he was a pro-democracy campaigner and evolved into something far different.
For now, though, Budapest was in a mood of celebration. People lined up at Tisza booths to buy party merchandise. Flags waved. Gergely Karácsony, the liberal mayor of Budapest who had long clashed with Orbán, called on Hungarians to remember what had been lost under the old system—teachers fired, journalists humiliated, small churches torn apart—and to mark this moment as a farewell to an era. Whether Magyar can deliver on his promises to fix what Orbán broke, and whether he can navigate the resistance of entrenched power, will define not just his government but Hungary's future in Europe.
Notable Quotes
Today, every freedom-loving person in the world wants to be a little Hungarian. You have taught the country and the world that it is the most ordinary, flesh-and-blood people that can defeat the most vicious tyranny.— Péter Magyar, addressing supporters outside parliament
Under Orbán's watch, Hungary had become the most corrupt country in the EU. A mandate not only to change the government, but to change the system as well.— Péter Magyar, speaking to parliament
The Hearth Conversation Another angle on the story
What made Magyar's moment possible? Orbán had been in power for sixteen years. How does that grip simply loosen?
He was an insider who became a whistleblower. He had seen the machinery from the inside and decided to expose it. That credibility—the fact that he wasn't some distant opposition figure but someone who had actually worked within Orbán's system—gave him a kind of authority that resonated.
The crowds seem to have been waiting for permission to hope again. Is that fair?
Yes. After sixteen years of a system designed to control information, to stack institutions, to make dissent costly—people had learned to be cautious. When Magyar started speaking, and when the election actually happened and actually mattered, it felt like the rules had changed overnight.
You mention families separated, children forced abroad. How much of this victory is about bringing people home?
It's central. The woman who spoke about her children losing their jobs after she criticized the government—that's not an isolated story. Orbán's system punished dissent in ways both visible and invisible. For many people, this election is about the possibility of return, of safety, of being able to speak without fear.
But Magyar faces an economy that's stagnating and institutions filled with Orbán loyalists. Isn't he inheriting a poisoned inheritance?
Absolutely. The celebration on Saturday was real, but it's also the easy part. The hard part is whether he can actually dismantle what was built. The judiciary, the media, academia—these are filled with people who benefited from the old system. They won't simply step aside.
What does it mean that this happened on Europe Day, deliberately?
It's a statement. Hungary under Orbán had drifted away from Europe, toward Russia, toward the global far right. By timing the swearing-in for Europe Day and returning the EU flag to parliament, Magyar is saying: we're choosing Europe again. We're choosing to be part of something larger than ourselves.