Viktor Orbán first came to prominence when in 1989 he declared on live TV that Hungary must put an end to the ‘Russian occupation’. On the first day of February this year, he held his thirteenth meeting with Vladimir Putin. What’s changed?
Like much of his generation, Orbán initially believed that the fall of communism would mean a ‘return to Europe’ — with not only western democracy but also a western standard of living. Yet after a brief and unpleasant stint studying in Oxford, the student politician discovered that Britain’s future elites were ignorant and decadent.
Orbán eventually concluded that Hungary had to jettison its naïve faith in Western Europe
The early years of Hungarian democracy proved shaky, with EU accession taking nearly 15 years to achieve. The resulting boost to trade and access to subsidies certainly helped ameliorate the post-communist economic shocks, but it wasn’t enough to achieve that long-promised growth in living standards. Hungary’s GDP per capita is still lower than Greece.
Orbán eventually concluded that Hungary had to jettison its naïve faith in Western Europe. Instead, he adopted a hard-nosed foreign policy that focused solely on the national interest, looking for allies and opportunities wherever he could find them. Russia was an obvious alternative to the EU. It had been a huge market for Hungarian exports before 1989 and remained a critical supplier of energy. Following his landslide victory in 2010, Orbán invited Putin to expand Hungary’s only nuclear power plant, built in the Soviet era. He also obtained supplies of Russian oil and gas on an attractive long-term contract, which currently costs Hungary around a fifth of the EU average.
Economic cooperation was fortified by Orbán and Putin’s shared values. Both project a macho image and both believe in aggressive politics modelled on their favourite sports (football and judo respectively). Crucially, the pair see themselves as defenders of Christian and national values against an interfering West. Both attend religious services, funnel money into their countries’ established churches, and have made the defence of persecuted Christians a crux of their foreign policies.
Russia and Hungary also share a sense that they have been aggrieved by Ukraine, which is accused of treating both the Russian and Hungarian speaking minorities as second-class citizens. Nevertheless, Orbán has skilfully juggled his personal relationship with Putin and his continuing membership of the EU. Grudgingly, Hungary agreed to impose sanctions on Russia afters its annexation of the Crimea in 2014.
There is a long tradition in Hungarian history of being an awkward part of a larger alliance. Before 1918, Hungary’s elite occasionally aligned with the Ottoman Empire, occasionally revolted against Vienna and always jealously guarded its privileges within the Habsburg Empire. During the second world war, Hungary proved an awkward ally of Nazi Germany until Berlin imposed a puppet government in October 1944. During the communist period, the country was an awkward part of the Eastern Bloc, revolting against its Stalinist regime in 1956 and welcoming Mrs Thatcher to Budapest in 1984. It should be no surprise therefore that Orbán’s government — which enthusiastically celebrates Hungary’s rebellious history — is part of the EU’s awkward squad.
Orbán presides over a party that is almost cultish in its outward loyalty to him. Behind the scenes, however, there are rival factions competing for influence, one of which favours closer links with Putin while another desires warmer relations with the EU. Orbán faces parliamentary elections in April which he should win. Nevertheless, the margin of his victory matters. If he secures another landslide, Fidesz’s pro-Russian faction will argue that his clashes with the EU and his alliance with Putin are popular and should therefore be intensified. Orbán’s annual meetings with Putin may become even more convivial.
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