This article was originally published in Vol. 6 No. 2 of our print edition.
Introduction
The 2026 Hungarian parliamentary election drew an unusual level of international attention. European and American political figures spoke out about the race throughout the campaign, and US Vice President JD Vance travelled to Budapest in person to voice his support for Viktor Orbán. The reason is obvious. Over the past decade and a half, the Hungarian government has become one of the principal reference points for patriotic-sovereigntist politics in the Western world. Orbán was among the first Western heads of government to take up open ideological conflict with the progressive-liberal zeitgeist. For this reason, many American conservatives have described him as ‘Trump before Trump’.
After 16 years of continuous governance (2010–2026), the alliance of Fidesz and the Christian Democratic People’s Party (KDNP) has lost power. The Tisza Party won 53 per cent on the party list and Fidesz–KDNP 38 per cent: a severe defeat, but not a crushing one. Fidesz’s own electoral system—designed on the assumption that the party would always remain the strongest—magnified this loss into a rout in terms of seats: 141 to 52.1 Many read this as a sign that patriotic political forces are in retreat. That reading is misleading. It is in the nature of parliamentary democracies that even governing forces with long track records of success eventually lose office. In this sense, what is remarkable is not that Fidesz–KDNP was defeated, but that it managed to remain the dominant political force for so long in a hostile ideological environment. The scale of the defeat was nevertheless striking, and behind it lay several structural processes that had been building for years. This essay identifies—without seeking to be exhaustive—five such internal structural causes, and outlines a factual account of the erosion of the voter base. Although treated separately, in reality, these causes interacted closely, reinforcing one another; the summary returns to this point.
The Erosion of the Voter Base
To understand the defeat, we need first to look briefly at how Fidesz’s voter base has gradually transformed. In the 2010 parliamentary election, Fidesz–KDNP won 53 per cent of the vote. The alliance took 45 per cent and then 49 per cent in the following two elections, and 54 per cent in 2022—driven by security fears in the wake of the Russia–Ukraine War and thanks to the Fidesz mobilization effort operating at full capacity. On these numbers, one could reasonably have expected the alliance to win again. The record 2022 result, however, was driven by one-off factors. The outbreak of the Russia–Ukraine War produced genuine fear; Fidesz’s mobilization machinery was running at peak efficiency, and the opposition’s attempt at a united front collapsed. These factors masked the underlying shift in the voter base.
The results for the European Parliamentary elections in 2024 already showed a gradual erosion: from a peak of 56 per cent in 2009, the Fidesz–KDNP vote fell to 45 per cent.2 The deeper processes were most clearly visible in the local elections. Fidesz–KDNP achieved total nationwide dominance in 2010; by 2014, the first cracks had appeared. The first major structural rupture appeared in 2019, when Fidesz lost Budapest and nearly half of the county-rank cities. By 2024, the shift had reached the mid-sized provincial towns that had long been Fidesz strongholds.3
What these trends show is that the social base of Fidesz has gradually been reshaped. The party has increasingly lost the higher-status, better-educated urban strata, while gaining ground among industrial workers and lower-status rural groups. Orbán himself acknowledged this transformation at an event in February 2026: ‘the more workers and skilled workers there are…the better Fidesz performs’, adding that this was ‘a new development; it has not always been this way’.4
Into an Ideological Headwind
After the collapse of the communist systems, the Western world shifted towards a liberal, progressive, and globalist direction. Individualism, identity politics, multiculturalism, and a transnational mode of thinking that reaches beyond the nation-state framework became ever more prominent. By the 2010s, this outlook had become the mainstream of Western politics and culture. During this same period, Fidesz moved in precisely the opposite direction. Founded as a liberal party in 1988, it passed through the secular centre-right politics of the 1990s and then turned gradually towards a conservative—and finally sovereigntist—position. In 2014, Viktor Orbán set out the concept of the illiberal state, which placed national interests and communal values ahead of the framework of classical liberal democracy.
Analysts disagree on what caused this rightward turn. In my view, the principal cause was initially domestic. Orbán, as an anti-communist, did not want to find himself in the same camp as the socialist successor party (MSZP), which had formed a left-liberal power bloc with a liberal party of democratic change (SZDSZ). This shift led to the 1993 Fidesz split, when several liberal politicians (Fodor, Ungár, Molnár) left the party.
Later, the conservative turn was driven mainly by international factors. Orbán came into increasingly sharp conflict with the liberal-progressive mainstream of the European Union. The issue was not merely that he rejected EU policies and expectations on specific questions—family policy, migration, gender theory, the green transition, and religious freedom—but that, more broadly, he rejected the federalist project of the EU as such.
Whatever the cause of the party’s rightward shift, Fidesz now found itself ever more at odds with the Western zeitgeist. The social groups most closely aligned with the liberal-progressive worldview—particularly the younger, urban, and better-educated strata—drifted further from the party. And so it was precisely the urban middle class—which had once formed the party’s most important social base—that began to peel away from Fidesz. A significant part of the anti-communist, Christian, conservative, and national intelligentsia remained loyal, as did the rural peasantry, but this alone no longer secured an electoral majority.5
Fidesz tried to offset its declining intellectual and ideological appeal by expanding welfare measures, including utility price cuts, targeted subsidies, and pre-election handouts. The strategy worked in the short term, particularly among groups more sensitive to material security. For a party governing against the prevailing zeitgeist, this was in part a forced adaptation: Fidesz had to make up for the loss of the liberal-progressive urban strata with a new social coalition. As a result, the urban working class and the rural lower-middle class—groups that had previously leaned to the left—became a defining part of the party’s new voter base.
A similar process has unfolded in the United States, where former Democratic voters in the Rust Belt have shifted in growing numbers to Donald Trump’s Republican Party. But Fidesz’s 2026 defeat also makes clear that, over the longer run, material benefits cannot compensate for the loss of ideological and cultural appeal.
Early Patriotism
Patriotism is at once an old and a new sentiment. Its roots lie in classical right-wing traditions and in the ideals of national autonomy, independence, and state sovereignty. As a new political movement, however, it has emerged in recent decades largely as a response to the problems created by political globalism.
The first political responses to the consequences of political globalism appeared as early as the 2000s. In their different ways, Jörg Haider in Austria, Jean-Marie Le Pen in France, Silvio Berlusconi in Italy, and Geert Wilders in the Netherlands all placed the defence of national sovereignty at the centre of their politics. The EU has always reacted to these initiatives with extreme sharpness. When Haider’s FPÖ entered a coalition government in 2000, the EU imposed diplomatic sanctions on Austria. The European mainstream waged a political and media war against Berlusconi. A cordon sanitaire was drawn around Le Pen. The European Commission launched rule-of-law proceedings against Poland; in Germany, the AfD was declared unconstitutional. In Romania, in late 2024, the Constitutional Court took the unprecedented step of annulling the first round of the presidential election after the sovereigntist candidate Călin Georgescu unexpectedly took the lead—a decision the European Commission welcomed while opening its own proceedings against TikTok over alleged election interference. This sanctioning reflex revealed a pattern: the EU establishment treated patriotic movements not as political rivals but as a systemic threat. The same pattern was repeated in the case of Fidesz.
The real breakthrough of the patriotic movement came only in the second half of the 2010s. The 2016 Brexit referendum was, above all, an expression of British resistance to EU federalist ambitions—to the project of ‘ever closer union’ inscribed in the EU’s founding treaties—though, paradoxically, Britain’s departure also accelerated EU integration. The successes of Trump and the MAGA movement in 2016 and 2024, Giorgia Meloni’s victory in Italy in 2022, and the formation of the Patriots for Europe alliance in 2024 further strengthened the international patriotic movement. The last of these marked the institutionalization of patriotism: founded at the initiative of Viktor Orbán, Herbert Kickl, and Andrej Babiš, it became the third-largest group in the European Parliament.
‘The scale of the defeat was nevertheless striking, and behind it lay several structural processes that had been building for years’
One of the most important differences between globalism and patriotism concerns democratic legitimacy. Patriotism ties the legitimacy of political decisions to a particular historical community, the demos: decisions are valid only when they are made in the name and interest of a people, by those who are accountable to that community. Abraham Lincoln put this in 1863 as ‘government of the people, by the people, for the people’. This is not merely a theory but a practice that has worked successfully for centuries. Majoritarian democracy is not always perfect, but, as Churchill famously remarked, it is ‘the worst form of government, except for all the others that have been tried’.6
Political globalism, by contrast, seeks to have decisions taken in supranational institutions. This raises two problems: the first is the democratic deficit. Decisions taken in this way do not express the will of any particular people, but the interests of the global elite. The second is the absence of any possibility of correction. When a national parliament makes a poor decision, voters can correct it at the next election. When supranational institutions make binding decisions, correction becomes far more difficult: the global elite cannot be voted out, and once a comprador elite has accepted international obligations, even a patriotic successor government cannot easily extricate the country from them.
From a patriotic standpoint, the latest project of progressivism is an assault on democracy. The strength of the progressive zeitgeist lies precisely in its ability to get society to accept its own ambitions as the norm while branding patriotic ambitions as ‘far right’ or ‘extremist’. In reality, the situation is the reverse: it is political globalism that represents the extreme, dangerous, and dystopian project, while patriotism stands for well-tested normality.7
The rise of patriotic parties in Western Europe is driven largely by the young. In France, Rassemblement National won 32 per cent among voters aged 18–34; in Thuringia, the AfD won 36 per cent among those aged 18–29.8 This is no accident. It is young Western Europeans who are experiencing the consequences of the flawed decisions of political globalism—mass, uncontrolled migration, the institutional advance of gender ideology, deteriorating public safety, and the narrowing of free speech—on a daily basis. The patriotic response in the West was thus built from the bottom up, out of society’s direct experience: people lived through the problems first, and only then turned to patriotic parties.
In Hungary, patriotism developed along a fundamentally different path. Whereas in Western Europe patriotic movements emerged as a grassroots social reaction to the consequences of globalist policies, in Hungary, the patriotic turn came from above, as a government initiative. Orbán recognized the dangers of political globalism in the mid-2010s. Hungarian society had not yet encountered these problems directly, but Orbán embarked on a politics of prevention. He built a border fence against mass migration, enshrined in the constitution the definition of marriage as a union between a man and a woman, used legislation to restrict the advance of gender ideology in schools, and rejected mandatory migration quotas. This kind of ‘enlightened absolutism’ was successful in the sense that it genuinely shielded Hungary from the consequences that Western European societies were to suffer.
Paradoxically, however, this very success undermined the internal legitimacy of the Hungarian patriotic project. Young Hungarians—precisely because of the government’s successful protective policies—never experienced the problems against which the government had been warning. They did not live with mass migration, did not face deteriorating public safety, and did not feel the narrowing of free speech. For them, the patriotic diagnosis was not a description of reality but a rhetoric of power.
This situation is most accurately illuminated by Karl Mannheim’s concept of the empirical vacuum.9 The concept refers to a situation in which a diagnosis is correct, but people lack the personal experience that would give the warning concrete meaning. In such cases, the warning loses its persuasive force not on conceptual grounds but for want of perceptibility. This is precisely what happened in Hungary: the government’s warnings about the dangers of policies from Brussels sounded like empty words to young Hungarians because the dangers themselves had not become directly experienced reality. Hungarian patriotism thus found itself caught in a trap of timing: as old doctrine, it looked outdated; as new sentiment, it had not yet taken hold.
Brussels Is the New Moscow
Hungary joined the EU by a broad national consensus: in the 2003 accession referendum, 84 per cent of voters cast a ‘yes’ vote.10 Following accession, Fidesz operated within the European People’s Party (EPP) as one of its strongest national delegations and pursued Hungarian national interests within the European framework. Beneath the surface, however, tensions had already begun to emerge after 2010, as Budapest moved in a sovereigntist direction while Brussels shifted ever more toward federalism. The gap between these two trajectories widened gradually—a process foreshadowed by criticism from Brussels of the Hungarian Fundamental Law.
The open turning point came with the 2015 migration crisis. Invoking the Schengen and Dublin regulations, the Hungarian government decided to build a border fence and thereby set itself against the European political mainstream. From that point on, the conflict steadily escalated. The EPP suspended Fidesz’s membership in 2019, and the party left the EPP in 2021. The EU later froze a portion of the funds owed to Hungary, and the European Court of Justice imposed a daily fine of one million euros for non-compliance with an EU ruling on asylum procedures.11
‘Fidesz moved gradually toward ideological positions at odds with the zeitgeist, and slowly lost the support of younger, urban strata’
The conflict between Budapest and Brussels also became increasingly overt in Orbán’s rhetoric. In 2011, the prime minister was still framing his position in the language of national self-defence: ‘We will not let Brussels dictate to us.’12 By the 2024 campaign, he was stating it outright: ‘Brussels is the new Moscow.’13 Orbán initially insisted that the EU had no right to determine how Hungarians live or with whom they share their country. Later—particularly after the founding of the Patriots for Europe family—he began talking about how patriots must seize Brussels itself.14
This high-risk strategy was ultimately defeated in the 2026 election. A central factor was that the leader of the Tisza Party, Péter Magyar, reframed Fidesz’s ‘freedom fight’ against Brussels as a choice between Europe and Russia. This narrative gained traction in part because Fidesz’s campaign strategy was flawed in several respects. By treating both Ursula von der Leyen and Volodymyr Zelenskyy as enemies, it reinforced the pro-Russian reading.
The conflict between patriotic Budapest and federalist Brussels was probably unavoidable. The question is whether the tension could have been managed differently. At the policy level, there was likely little room for manoeuvre: either we tolerate migrants crossing the border illegally, or we do not; either we let gender activists into schools, or we do not; either we buy cheap Russian oil, or we do not. The concrete decisions had to be taken, and from a patriotic standpoint, they were taken correctly. What is also certain, however, is that Orbán’s rhetoric did not moderate the conflict but sharpened it. It is conceivable that with a more measured tone, Fidesz would still be sitting in the EPP, and Orbán would still be prime minister. Retaining the support of a majority of Hungarian voters and shaping European policy are two disparate goals that are hard to reconcile for the leader of a small country.
Illiberal State Capitalism
During the regime change, previously state-owned means of production largely passed into foreign hands or to the left-wing political elite. The large industrial enterprises of the socialist era collapsed, and no new ones emerged during the years of privatization. Orbán was right to sense that a strong domestic economy—sustained by competitive Hungarian firms—is part of national sovereignty. As the American saying has it, ‘what’s good for General Motors is good for America’, and conversely, a country without large companies of its own enjoys only limited sovereignty.
As early as its first term in office (1998–2002), Fidesz had begun to build a national capitalist class. It did so, however, within the framework of market competition, in line with classical right-wing economic policy. The return to power in 2010 brought a radical reversal: the state gradually became both the principal manager and a leading actor in the economy. The transfer of strategic sectors into Hungarian hands, the nationalization of public utility providers, and the introduction of sector-specific levies all reflected an economic philosophy centred on the state.
One of the most significant achievements of this period was the economic growth that took off in the mid-2010s. Employment rose to historical highs, real wages grew, and for a long time this remained one of the most important sources of legitimacy for the Fidesz–KDNP government. By the end of the decade, however, two serious structural problems had gradually eroded that legitimacy: the restriction of market competition and high inflation. Behind both lay political objectives that were in themselves understandable: building a national bourgeoisie through statist instruments, and overspending on welfare to offset declining popularity.
One of the declared aims of Fidesz’s economic policy was the creation of a strong national entrepreneurial class. The aim itself was not unreasonable, but its implementation produced not merit-based national capitalism but a clientelist system built on political loyalty. The circle of beneficiaries—Lőrinc Mészáros, István Tiborcz, and, earlier, Lajos Simicska—was largely tied to the prime minister’s inner circle, and acquired its economic positions through public procurement, concessions, and state-supported arrangements.
In the South Korean and Japanese models, state-backed firms operated under intense international competitive pressure. In Hungary, by contrast, what emerged was not competitive ‘national champions’ but a politically protected business class. A significant part of society simply read this as corruption, with severe political consequences.
The economic consequences of market distortion were significant in their own right. Interventions that restricted competition harmed the economy’s efficiency and competitiveness over the longer term. Fidesz’s image of economic competence, still credible in the mid-2010s, had gradually eroded by the end of the decade.
Economically unsustainable welfare measures, including utility price caps, price controls, and pre-election handouts, also played a major role in producing Hungary’s exceptionally high inflation. These mobilized voters in the short term, but over the longer run they generated mounting fiscal burdens, while economic growth slowed and inflation rose. This was a major factor in Hungary’s gradual loss of ground to its Central European peers.15
The Generational Trap
When Fidesz, the Alliance of Young Democrats, was founded in 1988, it was—as its name suggests—an explicitly generational party. The upper age limit for membership (35) remained in effect until the 1993 congress. Fidesz defined itself as the party of a new generation that stood in radical opposition to the existing order—an order shaped by Soviet occupation and the soft dictatorship of one-party rule.
The party’s early actions carried not only political but also existential risks. Orbán and his associates engaged in open confrontation with a still-functioning dictatorship: the police charged them with anti-state activities, conducted house searches, and used physical force against them. This radical struggle for freedom nevertheless met with rapid success: within a year, the first free elections were called, and within two years, Soviet troops withdrew from the country. All this gave Viktor Orbán immense prestige within his own generation. From then on, the party was organized almost entirely around his person, which proved at once a source of strength and of vulnerability.
Nearly 40 years have passed since the regime change, and members of Orbán’s generation are now grandparents themselves. The youngest generations, however, no longer share the political language and frame of reference of the ‘grandparents’. The generation of ‘grandchildren’—today’s twenty- and thirty-somethings—was socialized in a radically different world. For them, the communist dictatorship and Soviet occupation are nothing more than history. The EU is not an external power that threatens sovereignty but a space of free movement, study, and work. For them, defending the national framework is not an elementary instinct but an outdated sentiment—and, in many of their eyes, an exclusionary one. The gap is most visible in the digital sphere: younger generations live on TikTok, Instagram, and YouTube, where the Tisza movement has built an organic monopoly over public opinion, while communication from the Fidesz–KDNP government has failed to gain a foothold on the same platforms.
The generation of the ‘parents’ long played a mediating role between the two worlds. They still remembered the regime change, or had at least grown up with its legacy, while also possessing direct experience of the new, globalized Hungary. Part of Fidesz’s strength drew on this mediating balance. One of the defining developments of the 2026 election was that this balance broke down: the ‘parents’ shifted en masse toward the value system of the ‘grandchildren’.
The position of Fidesz is also growing increasingly critical from a demographic standpoint. In Hungary, between 120,000 and 130,000 people die each year, and between 90,000 and 100,000 reach the age of majority. This means that every four years, half a million people leave the electorate while around 400,000 enter it. Those leaving the older cohorts were predominantly voters of the old parties—first MSZP, now Fidesz. Those entering primarily follow Péter Magyar. Orbán himself recognized this shift in the autumn of 2024, at the annual Civic Picnic in Kötcse, when he defined his own party as the representative of the ‘old world’—against an intellectual elite ‘living in its own bubble’.16 That self-definition is itself an admission of the generation trap.
There is a peculiar paradox in all this. Fidesz began as a generational party that challenged the existing order in the name of a new generation. Four decades later, the same party stood as the party of an older generation, facing a new one that now treated it as the order to be overcome. The rebels have become the establishment—and that is what the young are rebelling against today. Generational turnover is not a Hungarian peculiarity: Karl Mannheim described the pattern a century ago.17
Summary
The rise of Fidesz was closely tied to the radical rejection of the communist dictatorship and the Soviet occupation. It was in this struggle that Viktor Orbán became a political leader; he has led Fidesz for nearly four decades and governed for twenty years. In 2010, after the collapse of the left-liberal government, he assembled a broad electoral coalition around the vision of a ‘middle-class Hungary’. This was the political zenith of Fidesz: the hope of economic resurgence and the cultural vision of a civic Hungary stood united behind the party. After this peak, however, problems began to accumulate simultaneously on the ideological, economic, and generational fronts.
The causes identified in this essay were not independent factors but elements in a self-reinforcing spiral. Fidesz moved gradually toward ideological positions at odds with the zeitgeist, and slowly lost the support of younger, urban strata. It sought to compensate for its declining ideological appeal with welfare measures and state redistribution, but in the longer run, material incentives could not offset the loss of cultural and ideological appeal. The sharp conflict with Brussels further narrowed the system’s room for manoeuvre, while generational change made political renewal ever more difficult. Meanwhile, the successful patriotic protective policy paradoxically undermined the credibility of its own diagnosis by sustaining the empirical vacuum.
Every reformist politician faces the problem that a correct diagnosis of a system’s shortcomings is not, in itself, enough: a workable alternative must also be devised. Orbán’s political significance rests in part on the fact that he identified early on a series of problems that later became defining issues across Europe. Where the question could be settled by simple political will—taking on the communist system, halting migration, accepting the conflict with Brussels—he succeeded. But where complex social and economic systems had to be reshaped, voluntarist politics proved insufficient. Instead of a competitive patriotic model, what emerged was a politically protected form of illiberal state capitalism that gradually eroded the system’s credibility.
A similar process played out in the field of demography. Orbán was the first among Western politicians to draw attention to the civilizational consequences of low birth and fertility rates. Hungarian family policy did achieve real results: fertility indicators temporarily improved, while continuing to decline across much of Europe. Here too, however, no decisive breakthrough was reached.
The 2026 Hungarian election sent three right-wing forces into parliament: one EPP-style federalist party (Tisza) and two patriotic–sovereigntist formations (Fidesz–KDNP and Mi Hazánk). The traditional left-wing and liberal parties have, meanwhile, all but vanished from Hungarian politics. In this new constellation, the principal axis of political conflict will run between globalist–federalist and patriotic–sovereigntist politics. In other European countries too, a trend appears to be taking shape in which the main political fault line is shifting towards the divide between the patriotic-sovereigntist and the EPP-style federalist right. This may well signal a deeper rightward realignment of European politics, in which the post-1945 left–right axis gives way to a new cleavage entirely within the broader right.
With the defeat of Fidesz, sovereigntist politics have undoubtedly been weakened in the short term, both in Hungary and in Europe. The EU can therefore be expected to move more rapidly toward federalist integration—pursuing with renewed momentum the ‘ever closer union’ it has always declared as its goal. This will inevitably further deepen the very social and political conflicts that gave rise to the patriotic movements in the first place. For precisely this reason, the 2026 Hungarian election looks more like a lost battle than a lost war.
NOTES
1 ‘Results of Parliamentary Elections, 12 April 2026’, National Election Office, https://vtr.valasztas.hu/ogy2026, accessed 30 May 2026.
2 ‘European Election Results, 2024’, European Parliament, https://results.elections.europa.eu, accessed 30 May 2026.
3 ‘Results of Local Government Elections, 2024’, National Election Office, https://vtr.valasztas.hu/onk2024, accessed 30 May 2026.
4 Viktor Orbán, ‘Speech at the Fidesz–KDNP Election Campaign Launch’, Miniszterelnok.hu (Budapest, 28 February 2026), https://miniszterelnok.hu, accessed 12 May 2026.
5 János I. Tóth, and Tibor Szabó, ‘Ideológiai csapdában a Fidesz’ (Fidesz in an Ideological Trap), in János Simon, ed., Őszintén – A 2019-es önkormányzati választások tanulságai (Honestly: Lessons from the 2019 Local Elections),(CEPoliti–Konrad-Adenauer-Stiftung), 85–97.
6 From a speech by Winston Churchill in the House of Commons, on 11 November 1947, https://api.parliament.uk/historic-hansard/commons/1947/nov/11/parliament-bill, accessed 3 May 2026.
7 János I. Tóth, ‘Destructive Progression’, Hungarian Conservative, 5/2, 42–48.
8 ‘Sondage—Intentions de vote pour les élections européennes’ (Poll: Voting Intention for the European Elections), Ifop (23 January 2024), www.ifop.com/article/les-intentions-de-vote-aux-elections-europeennes-4/; ‘Thüringen-Wahl 2024—Exit Poll’ (Thuringia Vote 2024: Exit Poll), Forschungsgruppe Wahlen (1 September 2024), www.forschungsgruppe.de/Wahlen/Wahlanalysen/Newsl_Thue_240902.pdf.
9 Karl Mannheim, Ideology and Utopia (Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1936).
10 ‘Népszavazás az Európai Unióhoz való csatlakozásról 2003. április 12.’ (Referendum on Joining the European Union, 12 April 2003), National Election Office, https://static.valasztas.hu/onkval2006/hu/15/eu2003.html, accessed 15 May 2026.
11 ‘2022 Rule of Law Report: Hungary Chapter’, European Commission (13 July 2022). https://commission.europa.eu/publications/2022-rule-law-report-communication-and-country-chapters_en; ‘Case C-123/22—Infringement Proceedings Against Hungary’, Court of Justice of the European Union (2023).
12 Viktor Orbán, ‘Speech on the 163rd Anniversary of the 1848 Revolution’ (Budapest, 15 March 2011), Miniszterelnok.hu, https://miniszterelnok.hu, accessed 12 May 2026.
13 Viktor Orbán, ‘Speech at the Fidesz European Parliament Election Campaign Launch’, Miniszterelnok.hu (Budapest 19 April 2024), https://miniszterelnok.hu, accessed 12 May 2026.
14 Viktor Orbán, ‘Address at the 33rd Bálványos Free Summer University and Student Camp at Tusnádfürdő (Băile Tuşnad)’ (27 July 2024), Miniszterelnok.hu, https://miniszterelnok.hu, accessed 12 May 2026.
15 ‘GDP per Capita in PPS—Regional Statistics’, Eurostat (2024), https://ec.europa.eu/eurostat/databrowser/view/tec00114/default/table?lang=en, accessed 30 May 2026.
16 Viktor Orbán, ‘Address at the 24th Civic Picnic in Kötcse’, Miniszterelnok.hu (7 September 2024), https://miniszterelnok.hu, accessed 12 May 2026.
17 Karl Mannheim, ‘Das Problem der Generationen’ (The Problem of Generations), Kölner Vierteljahreshefte für Soziologie, 7 (1928), 157–185.
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