Hungary’s Post-Orban Transition: Can Peter Magyar Dismantle the Captured State Without Replacing It?

The symbolism is unusually strong. Baka was removed as Supreme Court president in 2011 during Orban’s judicial restructuring, and his dismissal became a landmark European case concerning judicial independence. Fifteen years later, he is returning to the centre of Hungary’s constitutional system as the president of a government determined to reverse much of the structure that removed him.

His first political challenge is therefore not simply to restore institutions. It is to convince Hungarians that restoration is not another form of political capture.

The machinery of reversal

Magyar’s victory in April, which gave Tisza 141 of the 199 seats in parliament, created the political conditions for a transformation that would have been difficult through incremental reform.

The government has moved quickly. Its 17th Amendment to the Basic Law ended President Tamas Sulyok’s mandate prematurely on the grounds of a severe loss of public trust. Sulyok, elected in 2024 under Fidesz, initially resisted resignation but ultimately signed the amendment himself on July 18. Parliamentary Speaker Agnes Forsthoffer then assumed presidential duties until Baka’s inauguration, scheduled for August 19.

The amendment reaches far beyond the presidency. It restores a 70-year age limit for Constitutional Court judges, forcing out long-serving Fidesz ally Peter Polt; cuts the court’s terms from 12 years to nine; transfers the election of its chief from parliament to the judges themselves; and restores its authority to review budget legislation.

It also introduces a 12-year limit on parliamentary service and reduces the number of areas requiring a two-thirds majority to amend legislation.

These measures attack one of the central characteristics of the Orban system: the use of constitutional and supermajority rules to make political arrangements unusually difficult for future governments to reverse.

There is an obvious irony. Tisza is now using the same constitutional advantage that makes such structural change possible.

That is why the Hungarian transition is more complicated than a simple story of democratic restoration. The government is not merely replacing officials. It is attempting to dismantle the mechanisms that allowed one political force to entrench itself - while exercising an extraordinary degree of power to do so.

Baka’s problem is legitimacy, not authority

Baka has already identified the boundary he will need to defend.

After the vote, he said that under Orban “one party captured the state”, destroying the separation of powers and checks and balances. But he also warned that rebuilding Hungary would require “both justice and self-restraint”, adding that the country could not build a new Hungary on revenge.

That distinction matters because the political circumstances of his appointment make neutrality difficult to demonstrate.

His predecessor's mandate was terminated by constitutional amendment. His own return to high office is inseparable from the judicial system he was once removed from. And his election was made possible by a governing party with enough parliamentary power to rewrite the rules of the state.

Baka can therefore provide a symbol of judicial independence, but he cannot by himself resolve the legitimacy problem created by the method of transition.

The real test will be whether institutional safeguards become stronger once Tisza's immediate political objectives have been achieved. A democratic reset is credible only if the new rules constrain the government that introduces them as effectively as they are intended to constrain the government that preceded it.

That is where the distinction between de-capture and replacement becomes crucial.

Brussels has already attached a price to reform

The European dimension gives Magyar a powerful incentive to make the institutional overhaul credible.

More than €16 billion in Hungarian EU structural and recovery funds had been frozen over rule-of-law concerns. In July, the European Commission released the money after Tisza agreed to join the European Public Prosecutor’s Office and introduced rapid anti-corruption measures.

The new National Asset Recovery and Protection Agency is intended to investigate and recover illegally acquired public assets. The EPPO commitment provides another institutional mechanism for dealing with corruption.

For Brussels, the change is therefore not merely political. It alters the channels through which European money and oversight interact with the Hungarian state.

For Magyar, the unfreezing of the funds is equally important. It gives his government a tangible dividend from the institutional break with the previous administration, strengthening the case that restoring relations with European institutions has material consequences.

The shift is visible beyond Brussels. Hungary has reopened technical discussions with Ukraine over national minority rights, with an Action Plan producing partial progress towards opening EU accession clusters. It has also maintained supportive engagement with Poland under Donald Tusk.

The broader direction is clear: Budapest is moving from confrontation with parts of the European institutional system towards greater integration with it.

The political risk is already visible

The speed of the reforms has begun to create resistance of its own.

Tisza's support reportedly fell by five percentage points within a month, amid controversy over the pace of unilateral institutional changes and opposition protests. Civil rights organisations have questioned the methods of the transition, while European right-wing figures including Marine Le Pen and Matteo Salvini have attacked the reforms and appealed to the European Commission.

Fidesz, meanwhile, has lost the institutional protections and leverage that helped sustain its previous dominance. Its parliamentary boycott of Baka’s election is an early indication of the strategy available to an opposition that can no longer control the executive branch or the presidency.

But the opposition's “tyranny” accusation also lands on a genuine vulnerability for Tisza.

A two-thirds majority is sufficient to transform the state. It does not guarantee that society will regard every transformation as legitimate.

The 12-year parliamentary term limit is particularly revealing. In principle, it is designed to prevent another long period of political hegemony. In practice, it also demonstrates the scale of the break Tisza is attempting: the new government is not simply changing who governs Hungary, but trying to make prolonged dominance structurally harder for whoever wins power next.

That creates an unusual standard by which Magyar's government will eventually be judged. The strongest evidence that the transition succeeded would not be Tisza's ability to impose its programme. It would be its willingness to live under constraints that limit its own power.

Central Europe is watching the experiment

Hungary's changing relationship with the EU, alongside renewed engagement with Ukraine and Poland, gives the domestic institutional overhaul a wider regional significance.

Under Orban, Budapest became a persistent source of friction inside the European system. The new government is instead seeking closer institutional integration, including through the EPPO, while rebuilding working relationships with neighbouring states.

Yet the transition carries a paradox that extends beyond Hungary.

Europe has spent years criticising governments for weakening checks and balances through legal mechanisms. Hungary is now attempting to reverse that process through legal mechanisms of its own, backed by an overwhelming parliamentary majority.

The difference will ultimately depend less on who controls the machinery than on what happens to the machinery after the political emergency has passed.

Baka's pledge of justice without revenge offers one answer. Magyar's constitutional offensive offers another. For now, they coexist uneasily.