It seems like the political landscape in Hungary has just been flipped on its head, and everyone’s trying to figure out why. For years, it felt like Fidesz, the ruling party, had this unbeatable secret weapon: their massive media empire and a constant stream of government-backed propaganda. It was an information machine designed to shape public opinion and keep them in power. However, after their recent, surprising defeat in the 2026 Hungarian election—where Péter Magyar’s Tisza party swept in with a two-thirds majority—experts like Ágnes Urbán from Mérték Media Monitor and Péter Krekó from Political Capital are asking some really crucial questions. They’re trying to understand why this seemingly all-powerful propaganda machine suddenly sputtered out and what this means for Hungary’s future, especially for the pro-Fidesz media that’s been running on state funding.
Ágnes Urbán, for one, admits she’s had to rethink things. She recalls a previous podcast where someone suggested election results could be predicted by economic data, not just media propaganda. This idea really stuck with her, and seeing how the election panned out, she now believes we might have overestimated the propaganda’s influence. It’s not that it had no effect, but perhaps its real power wasn’t just in convincing people who were already susceptible. Instead, she suggests the very presence of this blatant propaganda might have actually mobilized those who saw through it. Young people, in particular, seemed spurred to action, not by believing the propaganda, but by being fed up with it. Péter Krekó, while generally cautious about reducing complex political events to just economics, acknowledges both factors play a significant role. He points out how Fidesz’s “informational autocracy” created a virtual reality where false beliefs, like the opposition wanting to send people to war, heavily influenced voters in previous elections. But this time was different. Krekó believes the presidential pardon scandal, involving a cover-up of a pedophile crime, shattered Fidesz’s moral authority. It was a massive crack in their credibility that made all their previous campaign tactics, like fearmongering, suddenly ineffective. The public simply stopped believing them.
The Fidesz campaign this time around was a rehash of old tricks, heavy on fearmongering about war, similar to what worked for them in 2022. But as Péter Krekó explains, Fidesz fell into the trap of thinking they were omnipotent. They believed they could always dictate what people cared about, just as they had turned war fears into a dominant issue four years prior. However, they miscalculated. While Fidesz continued with a “geopolitical monologue,” Péter Magyar’s Tisza party focused on issues that genuinely concerned voters, like the economy, corruption, and healthcare. It turned out there are limits to how much you can manipulate public discourse and people’s priorities. Ágnes Urbán adds that there’s a ceiling to fear. You can only escalate fear so much before it loses its punch. She points to Fidesz’s mistake of talking about nuclear war so early in the campaign; once you’ve gone there, where do you go next to make people even more scared? It was a tactic that couldn’t win over new or undecided voters because it lacked any fresh impact. Essentially, Fidesz was trying to sell a “second-hand campaign” that had worked before, but this time, the merchandise was stale.
Another fascinating aspect was the role of Russian disinformation and the emergence of AI in the campaign. Leading up to the election, there were concerns about Russian interference, but interestingly, these efforts largely failed to gain traction. Ágnes Urbán credits experts like András Rácz, who proactively warned the Hungarian public about Russian interference. This foresight created a “surprisingly strong immunity” among the population. Péter Krekó agrees, noting that European intelligence also helped by providing information, and Péter Magyar’s campaign strategy of preempting potential smear stories further disarmed Russian disinformation. The public, it seems, shifted their focus from Brussels as a threat to Russian interference. Even Fidesz itself seemed hesitant to fully embrace all Russian-linked narratives, sensing they might backfire. The message was clear: Russian disinformation, while potent, isn’t all-powerful, especially when societies are forewarned and vigilant.
On the AI front, Fidesz also seemed to stumble. They deployed AI-generated images and videos, like fake calls between Ursula von der Leyen and Péter Magyar, but these efforts largely backfired. Ágnes Urbán suggests Fidesz used AI too early and too cheaply, making it obvious to even casual observers that the content was manipulated. This led to an unexpected outcome: a “large-scale social experiment” where ordinary Hungarians, even her 82-year-old mother, started talking about AI and manipulated content. Instead of being fooled, society became surprisingly well-equipped to recognize and resist AI-generated propaganda. Péter Krekó’s research confirmed that most voters encountered AI content and largely disapproved of its use. It seems Fidesz “overdid” many of their techniques, turning their once-effective propaganda machine into a source of their own credibility crisis. The constant, heavily funded, state-sponsored disinformation ultimately backfired, leaving voters tired and disengaged from what felt like a perpetual bending of reality.
Crucially, a significant policy change by Meta and Google also played a huge role: they banned political ads on their platforms starting in the fall. This drastically limited the reach of Fidesz’s online campaign. Ágnes Urbán emphasizes this was incredibly important because, despite EU regulations on political ad transparency, Hungary hadn’t implemented them. The platforms’ decision effectively pulled the rug out from under Fidesz, preventing them from spending potentially billions of forints on targeted online ads to discredit Tisza candidates. Péter Krekó points out that in 2024, Fidesz was the biggest spender on online political ads in Europe, yet their results still fell short of expectations. He recounts how previous campaigns filled YouTube with political ads, creating an “Orwellian social media environment.” This era ended with the ban, leading to a more level playing field where, for instance, Péter Magyar’s posts generated far more organic interactions than Viktor Orbán’s. This policy shift, born from an EU regulation, brought a much-needed change to the “most important arena of political communication.”
Now comes the big question: what happens to Fidesz’s sprawling media empire and influencer network, which has been sustained by state funding, if that funding dries up? Ágnes Urbán is optimistic. She believes that if Fidesz is in opposition, there will be less incentive for them and affiliated actors to financially support these media outlets. She envisions the market stepping in, and in her opinion, the “invisible hand of the market will destroy a significant part of the propaganda media,” simply because it lacks market value for the audience. She doubts Fidesz voters will pay for lies. While some outlets might adapt or become more serious, those built purely on deceptive propaganda, especially online and print, are unlikely to survive. These companies, she argues, have become so reliant on state billions that they’ve lost their market instincts. Péter Krekó agrees, seeing this as an experiment in turning an “informational autocracy” into an “informational democracy.” He expects much of the government’s media empire to collapse, especially since taxpayers’ money will no longer be funneling into it. As propaganda wanes and voters realize that the dire predictions made by state media didn’t come true, their loyalty to Fidesz and Orbán might also diminish. The magic, it seems, has indeed run out.