How the EU created Viktor Orban

In her memoir “Freedom,” former German Chancellor Angela Merkel recalls the excitement as she took her seat in a stadium in Rio de Janeiro in 2014 to watch the World Cup final between Germany and Argentina. Viktor Orban, the prime minister of Hungary, happened to be sitting in front of her. A huge football fan, he teased her: “One thing is for sure. You can’t be sure of winning here.”

Germany won 1-0. But for Merkel, outplaying Orban on his home turf in Europe proved a much more difficult task. That same year, Orban coined the term “illiberal democracy,” which would mark his fight against the established political order of the European Union.

Orban faces his most serious electoral challenge yet on April 12 — so serious that Donald Trump is sending his vice president, J.D. Vance, to his aid. In Brussels, Berlin and Paris, some might find it useful to look back on Orban’s tumultuous 16 years in power and ask how he was allowed to inflict so much damage on European unity. Until the last minute, the Hungarian leader defied the European Union, blocking a crucial 90 billion euro loan for Ukraine. His foreign minister, Péter Szijjártó, admitted that he had coordinated with his Russian counterpart, Sergei Lavrov, on sanctions against Moscow.

The construction of an illiberal democracy in the heart of Europe began with the use of the EU’s generous budget, while relentlessly attacking what was seen as Brussels’ encroachment on Hungary’s sovereignty. EU cohesion funds financed more than half of public investment in the country, averaging more than three percent of Hungary’s GDP over more than a decade. Meanwhile, Orbán’s associates have secured numerous public contracts.

Germany quickly became Hungary's dominant partner. Orban wanted to industrialize the economy; Audi, BMW, Mercedes-Benz, and Opel were happy to support this, attracted by cheap labor and state subsidies.

The European Union's biggest mistake was the belief that member states, especially those from Central Europe, would inevitably follow the path of liberal democracy.

During a visit to Budapest in 2015, Merkel tried to lecture Orbán on the role of democratic opposition; he retorted by exulting over the 300.000 jobs created by German companies and record exports to her country: “All I can say to the Chancellor is: thank you, Germany!” Just as her hostility to Vladimir Putin did not prevent Merkel from increasing Germany’s dependence on Russian gas for the sake of German industry, she could not ignore the benefits Hungary brought to her country’s economy.

Merkel and Orban soon found themselves on opposite sides. Later, in 2015, when hundreds of thousands of Syrian and Afghan refugees tried to reach Germany through Hungary, Orban erected a fence on the border, while Merkel welcomed them with open arms. The episode marked a turning point in the rise of populist movements in Europe. One official who attended the European summit in September 2015 told me how central European leaders and Donald Tusk, then president of the European Council, had pleaded in vain with both Merkel and Jean-Claude Juncker, then president of the Commission, not to impose refugee quotas on member states.

Western European leaders completely misjudged the shock the refugee crisis would cause in post-communist societies unprepared for multiethnic immigration. Their intransigence contributed to the victory of Poland's nationalist-populist Law and Justice (PiS) party and further solidified Orban's status as the leader of the illiberal camp.

He had another advantage, which he skillfully exploited: the European People’s Party (EPP) group in the European Parliament. It included his own Fidesz party, as well as Merkel’s CDU and its Bavarian sister party, the CSU. The EPP hypocritically provided Orbán with crucial protection until 2019, when it finally suspended Fidesz – but did not expel it, as it still needed Hungarian MEPs to narrowly vote Ursula von der Leyen in as European Commission president. Fidesz eventually left the group in 2021, but it benefited from its leniency for two decades.

French President Emmanuel Macron believed he could charm Orban into a more reasonable position. They shared an interest in history and had long, intellectual one-on-one conversations over dinner at the Elysee Palace. But even that didn't sway the Hungarian rebel.

Ultimately, the European Union's biggest mistake, says Clément Bon, Macron's former adviser on European affairs, was the belief that member states, especially those from central Europe, would inevitably follow the path of liberal democracy.

“We didn’t foresee what was going to happen, so we didn’t have the right instruments,” he says. One solution could be to abandon the unanimity rule in foreign policy decisions. But, Bonn adds, “France and Germany have always opposed that idea, because they thought it protected them. In reality, it protected Orban.”

The author is a columnist for "Monda"

The commentary was published in the Financial Times.

Translation: A.Š.