Orban’s latest defiance of EU values—the banning of Pride—comes as Hungary’s economy flails, the opposition gains, and Washington will no longer oppose. It could be the push the EU needs to figure out how to work around Budapest.
In Hungarian politics, few things are as predictable as Viktor Orban’s annual State of the Nation speech. It is a must-watch event, not necessarily because it offers new grand visions—although sometimes it does—but because it sets the stage for the battles the prime minister plans to fight in the coming months. This year was no exception. Speaking before his usual audience of Fidesz elites and celebrity loyalists, Orban delivered a line that raised a few eyebrows: “In fact, I advise the Pride organisers not to bother preparing for this year’s march. It is a waste of money and time.” His audience, predictably, chuckled. While the joke faded into the ether; the message stuck. Budapest’s annual Pride, which has been held peacefully for over 15 years, had now found itself in Fidesz’s crosshairs.
A few weeks later, on March 15th, Hungary’s national holiday, Orban escalated his rhetoric, predicting the fall of Brussels’s oppression and promising a spring cleaning that would rid the country of “the bugs [that] have survived winter”. Two days later, Hungary’s parliament, in a fast-tracked, debate-free vote, passed a tightening of assembly laws. Officially, this was done to “protect children”. In practice, it was about paving the way to ban Pride.
The European Union’s commissioner for equality quickly condemned the move, just as the bloc did when Hungary adopted the “Propaganda Law” which curtailed LGBTQ+ rights in schools. And just like before, Orban doesn’t care. In fact, he may care even less than before. Transatlantic strife is emboldening him in his defiance of Brussels, while domestic politics makes stoking division all the more appealing for Orban. But paradoxically, this latest defiance could be the extra push Brussels needs to work out how to stop spoiling the spoiler state.
Why Orban is politicising Pride
In part, Orban has made Pride a political battleground simply because now he can. Despite eroding LGBTQ+ rights for years, Orban had to tread carefully on Pride. The US embassy and EU diplomats provided a sort of protective shield—suppressing the march would have been seen as a blatant violation of democratic rights. David Pressman, the former US ambassador, a married gay man with two children, whom Orban never officially received, attended Budapest Pride multiple times, sending a clear diplomatic message. Pressman is now gone, and it is safe to assume that Trump-aligned diplomats will not be prioritising LGBTQ+ rights in Hungary. The EU ambassadors, who have also supported Pride in the past, may or may not take a stand. If they attend, they reinforce Orban’s propaganda about the “degenerate West” in which equality is a Western “import” that threatens Hungarian sovereignty. If they don’t, Orban scores an easy ideological victory. Either way, he wins.
Another reason is that when the economy struggles, culture wars make a good distraction for Fidesz. Inflation is biting, budget deficits are mounting, and the government is scrambling for cash. To counterbalance this, Fidesz is rolling out economic perks. Mothers of two children will be exempt from income tax for life, a benefit that sounds generous but will only take effect after 2026. By then, the money might not even exist. But for now, it makes for great campaign promises. In Orban’s playbook, combining handouts with culture wars is a tried-and-tested method for keeping voters on his side.
The rise of opposition politician Peter Magyar and his Tisza party presents another factor that makes the situation different this time. For years, Fidesz has forced the opposition to fight on its own terms, framing political conflicts as Budapest versus the countryside, elitists versus the real people, or traitors versus patriots. And for a long time, this strategy worked. Magyar, however, did not take the bait. Instead of engaging in a debate on Fidesz’s terms, he reframed the issue. While he made it clear that he would not personally attend Pride, he also pointed out that banning it would be unconstitutional. In his view, the only reason the government had put the issue on the agenda was to distract from the fact that 900,000 retirees and children live below the minimum subsistence level. His approach attempted steering the conversation away from identity politics and back toward economic hardship. This manoeuvre is reminiscent of Donald Tusk’s strategy in Poland, where the new prime minister has deliberately avoided cultural flashpoints that the right-wing Law and Justice party used for years to dominate the opposition.
At present, most Hungarians do not want Pride banned. A 2021 poll found that only 13% of the population strongly supported a ban. But Fidesz’s propaganda operation has proven many times that it can turn minor issues into national emergencies. After all, the government had already demonstrated its ability to successfully demonise targets such as the Norwegian Financial Mechanism, the International Monetary Fund, and domestic civil society organisations.
In just a few months, it would not be surprising if Fidesz voters were convinced that Budapest Pride represents a grave threat to their national identity. The real question is whether Fidesz will succeed in rewriting this story on its own terms, or whether Peter Magyar can keep the conversation focused on concrete concerns. The Tisza Party already leads Fidesz by 9%, posing the most serious electoral challenge Orban has faced in years. Whether a full-scale ideological war and another round of election-year giveaways will be enough to turn the tide remains to be seen.
Untying the Hungarian knot
However, it is certain is that the banning of Pride is part of a broader strategy—one that fits squarely into the systematic dismantling of established European values. It aligns seamlessly with Orban’s latest move: yet again vetoing a joint EU statement in support of Ukraine.
The advance of Orban’s illiberal populism, intent on tearing down the EU’s shared value system, reflects a deeper and more far-reaching dynamic on the continent. And paradoxically, it is precisely from this situation—as I’ve written before—that the EU could, in the best-case scenario, emerge stronger and more capable of action.
At present, the EU lacks the internal mechanisms to suspend or exclude a member state that consistently defies shared principles—Hungary being the most glaring example. In response, the EU and its member states are seeking ways around the impasse. They issue joint statements without Orban’s signature. They hold security and defence consultations involving the United Kingdom but excluding Hungary.
This process has already begun on multiple levels. And it is not inconceivable that it could eventually lead to what one might call a kind of “zombification” of the EU’s official institutions—where the formal structures remain, but real, meaningful decisions begin to emerge elsewhere, within new, more effective configurations. These may take institutional or informal forms, but they will evolve without the participation of destructive illiberal regimes.
The result may resemble the long-discussed “two-speed Europe,” but in a surprising twist. It will not be the product of wealthy western states trying to peel away from the rest of the bloc in pursuit of technocratic efficiency or affluence. Rather, it will emerge as a bottom-up response to the wrecking-ball politics of a smaller, relatively poor country—Hungary—whose deliberate sabotage has forced others to rethink the rules of engagement.
About the author:
Tibor Dessewffy is an ECFR Council Member.