Hungary’s needed governance reforms

By Matthew Parish, Associate Editor

Saturday 18 April 2026

The problem of constitutional reconstruction in Hungary, after some sixteen years of governance under Viktor Orbán and his self-described “illiberal democracy”, is not merely one of political alternation. It is instead a question of whether a state whose formal institutions have been methodically re-engineered to entrench executive power can be returned to a condition of pluralism without itself resorting to constitutionally questionable means. Hungary’s predicament lies precisely in this paradox — that legality has been used to undermine liberal constitutionalism, and therefore legality alone may not suffice to restore it.

From 2010 to 2026 the governing party Fidesz exercised repeated supermajorities in the National Assembly of Hungary, enabling the adoption of a new constitutional framework, the Fundamental Law of Hungary, in 2011. This document — together with a dense network of so-called cardinal laws requiring two-thirds majorities for amendment — has transformed the Hungarian constitutional order into one of rigid political entrenchment. Independent institutions have been repopulated with loyalists; judicial retirement ages were abruptly lowered and then selectively restored; the media landscape has been consolidated under pro-government ownership; and electoral law has been engineered to favour incumbency.

Any reform programme must therefore begin with an acknowledgement that the Hungarian constitutional system is no longer neutral terrain. It is a constructed political architecture — one that privileges continuity of the present governing ideology. To dismantle this architecture requires a combination of legal ingenuity, political legitimacy, and, inevitably, constitutional risk.

The first and most immediate question is whether a post-Orbán government should seek to amend the existing constitutional order using its own rules, or whether it should pursue a more radical form of constitutional replacement. Under the current framework, most meaningful reforms would require a two-thirds majority in parliament – which the new government in Budapest will have. Nevertheless reformers face a stark choice — either govern within the constraints of an illiberal constitution, or seek to bypass it through a constituent process grounded in popular sovereignty.

The latter approach has precedents in European constitutional history, albeit controversial ones. A government might claim a direct democratic mandate to adopt a new constitution through referendum, arguing that the existing constitutional order has lost its legitimacy due to systemic abuses. Yet such a course risks replicating the very logic it seeks to overturn — the subordination of constitutional legality to political necessity. The line between restoration and rupture is thin, and easily crossed.

A more cautious approach would involve incremental constitutional disarmament. Even without a supermajority, a reformist government could seek to reduce the influence of entrenched institutions through ordinary legislation, administrative reform and strategic litigation. The powers of regulatory bodies might be narrowed; transparency requirements strengthened; public procurement systems overhauled. Over time such measures could erode the practical effects of illiberal entrenchment, even if the formal constitutional framework remains intact.

However this approach encounters immediate limits in the judiciary. The Constitutional Court of Hungary has itself been subject to political capture, with its membership expanded and rebalanced in favour of Fidesz-aligned jurists. Any legislative reform that threatens entrenched interests is liable to be struck down — or, more subtly, delayed and diluted through judicial interpretation. Judicial reform is therefore indispensable, but it is also amongst the most constitutionally sensitive areas.

One possible avenue is to restore the independence of judicial appointments through the reconstitution of judicial councils, ensuring that appointments are made by professional bodies rather than political actors. Term limits for senior judicial figures might be reconsidered, particularly where appointments were made under conditions lacking genuine pluralism. Yet here again the difficulty is circular — the bodies responsible for reform are themselves products of the system to be reformed.

The media environment presents a parallel challenge. The consolidation of media assets under the Central European Press and Media Foundation has created a quasi-monopolistic structure aligned with government messaging. Dismantling such a structure requires not only legal intervention but also careful attention to property rights and European Union law. Forced divestitures or regulatory break-ups may be justified on competition grounds, but they must be framed within a legally defensible context to avoid undermining investor confidence and international credibility.

Electoral reform is perhaps the most urgent and least controversial domain. The redrawing of constituency boundaries, the introduction of compensatory mechanisms favouring larger parties and restrictions on campaign financing have collectively distorted electoral competition. A reformed electoral law should prioritise proportionality, transparency and equal access to media. Independent electoral commissions must be reconstituted, with safeguards against partisan capture.

Yet even here, reform is constrained by the very system it seeks to correct. Electoral law is itself embedded within the cardinal law framework, requiring supermajority approval. This returns us to the central dilemma — that meaningful reform may be impossible without first achieving the political conditions that the current system is designed to prevent.

In this context the role of the European Union becomes significant, though limited. Hungary remains a member of the European Union, and is therefore subject to the acquis communautaire and the jurisdiction of the Court of Justice of the European Union. Conditionality mechanisms, including the suspension of structural funds, have been deployed to incentivise compliance with rule-of-law standards. However external pressure can only supplement, not substitute for, domestic constitutional reform. The legitimacy of any transformation must ultimately derive from within Hungary’s own political community.

A further dimension is the administrative state. Over the past decade and a half key sectors of public administration — including education, healthcare, and local government — have been centralised and politicised. Restoring administrative neutrality requires decentralisation, professionalisation, and the depoliticisation of civil service appointments. This is less a matter of constitutional law than of institutional culture, yet it is no less critical.

Finally there is the question of political accountability for past governance. Transitional justice mechanisms — ranging from parliamentary inquiries to prosecutorial investigations — may be necessary to address allegations of corruption and abuse of power. Yet such mechanisms must be carefully designed to avoid the appearance of victor’s justice. The credibility of reform depends not only on its substance but on its fairness.

The reconstruction of Hungary’s constitutional order after the Orbán era is not a single act but a prolonged process — one that must navigate between legality and legitimacy, between continuity and rupture. It requires a rebalancing of institutions, a restoration of pluralism, and a reaffirmation of constitutional norms that have been systematically eroded.

The ultimate question is whether Hungary can achieve this transformation through constitutional means alone, or whether a moment of constitutional discontinuity is unavoidable. The answer will depend not only on legal doctrine, but on political courage — and on the willingness of Hungarian society to reassert the principles upon which liberal democracy rests.