N°72 — The day the regime fell

Budapest, 15th April 2026, 

On the 12th April, Hungary experienced a level of political engagement not seen in the country for a very a long time. On that day, many people woke up early, so eager and anxious to vote that they were already lining up at polling stations at 6 a.m., when voting began. There was a palpable sense that, after 16 years of the NER *(*Nemzeti Együttműködés Rendszere, or the National System of Cooperation in English, the name used by Viktor Orbán and his allies for the political system established in Hungary after 2010, ed.)—characterized by strong central control, loyal economic networks, and close alignment between the government, the press, and businesses— this election represented the most serious opportunity to date to remove what many saw as a “Putinist” government.

For months, opinion polls had suggested a decisive victory for the Tisza Party. Even so, many found it hard to believe that the Orbán government—with its overwhelming financial and organizational advantage—could be swept aside so easily. It was entirely possible that the prime minister would once again secure his power in an electoral system tailored to himself.

So I approached Sunday with extremely strained nerves. If Orbán were to win again even now, then the fate of the country—and possibly even Europe—would be sealed for a very long time, and in a bad direction.

Reports of electoral fraud began surfacing early in the day. In Kerepes (a small suburban town just outside of Budapest, ed.), for instance, the head of the local Roma self-government was said to have distributed gift cards worth 10,000 forints, asking recipients to vote for Fidesz in return.

Meanwhile, observers were stunned to see turnout levels surpass even the wildest expectations. State media repeatedly emphasized that high turnout could favor Fidesz (as it had in 2022, when they achieved their biggest victory ever). Pro-government outlets also spent the day broadcasting claims that the “pro-Ukrainian Tisza Party” was planning to incite a civil war that very evening and take to the streets with weapons.

By the time polls closed, new surveys from the pollster Medián and the 21 Research Center were projecting a near two-thirds victory for Tisza. Even so, after 7 p.m., Fidesz politicians were still speaking  about their confidence in a Fidesz win.

Yet as time went on, Tisza’s lead continued to grow.

On Hír TV and other pro-government platforms, loyalists appeared visibly stunned on live television. Many seemed to have genuinely believed Fidesz’s own propaganda—that they would once again achieve a landslide victory “visible from the Moon.” By shortly after 9 p.m., it was clear that Tisza had won. By 10pm, it was evident that they had secured a victory on a scale that even Orbán himself had never achieved within the electoral system he designed. According to the nearly final results, Tisza was set to win 138 seats in parliament, Fidesz-KDNP 55, and the far right party Mi Hazánk (Our Homeland in English, ed.) 6.

At Fidesz’s election night event, people wandered around in shock and confusion after Orbán’s brief and subdued farewell speech. Suddenly, several pro-government commentators and anti-opposition pundits disappeared from Facebook. Balázs Németh, one of the most aggressively pro-government campaigners, would not even show up for his own program the next day. Starting in the afternoon, supporters of the Tisza Party gathered to celebrate at Batthyány Square, where Péter Magyar in his victory speech later that night, reiterated what he had long promised: accountability. Fidesz loyalists embedded throughout the state apparatus would have to leave, Russian influence would be pushed out, and a more Western-oriented, more peaceful style of governance would follow.

By then, techno music resounded throughout the city and in front of Parliament building. People flooded the streets across Budapest. Drunk revelers danced everywhere, and middle-aged women tore down pro-government, pro-Putin posters and scrawled “it’s over” in their place. On trams, intoxicated passengers sang, while drivers honked in celebration, chanting slogans against Fidesz. Journalists at 444, who were covering events, were reportedly showered by champagne in places.

And so it was that, peacefully, and with great celebration, the Orbán regime came to an end. This was the happiest day of my life —and also one of the longest as it ended at 4am, a time when strangers were still embracing one another in the streets of Budapest.

By the next day, the forint was significantly stronger, while companies tied to the NER system began to plunge on the stock market. Hungarians haven’t known such a decisive turning point since the autumn of 1956 (The Hungarian Revolution of 1956 was a nationwide uprising against Soviet control and the communist government, ed.) They managed to push out a corrupt system that had fed off them for years.

On 13th April, 2026, Hungary woke up to a new—and by all indications, better—world.

Mark

*Mark is a journalist at 444, Sphera Network’s Hungarian media partner.