Roles and Power: Hungary’s Year-End Political Moment

In just a few weeks, perhaps one of the most exhausting, symbolically understood Zimbardo experiments in the history of Hungarian society will come to an end. Observing from abroad, from the United Kingdom, it increasingly feels as if the political processes of recent years have reshaped not only institutions but also roles. The question today is no longer merely who will govern, but also who will remain “prisoners” and who will become the guards of the next cycle in a system where political identity is slowly overriding the personal one.

Author: Balázs Láng

 

During the sixteen years often described by many as a period of “state capture,” the relationships appeared relatively clear. The Orbán system held the decisive share of political power, and a significant part of society experienced everyday life as prisoners of this structure. The equation felt simple: there were guards and there were prisoners, and the roles seemed relatively stable. The past two years, however, have disrupted this balance. The “new oppositionism,” the mobilization associated with Péter Magyar, has rearranged many earlier norms. Previously, a single political cult largely dominated public discourse; now, a similarly intense and at times uncritically enthusiastic community has emerged on the other side as well. The political strategy built on the contrast between hopelessness and hope has mobilized masses, yet from the outside, especially from within a British political culture, its dynamism appears both liberating and unsettling.

 

 

What for a long time seemed to many of us a possible solution has by now turned into a form of electoral constraint. The feeling of free choice has largely vanished: many experience that they must fully align behind either one camp or the other, otherwise they risk political invisibility. Meanwhile, the revolutionary momentum that once promised change increasingly reveals the contours of an internal power struggle, partly rooted in the world of Fidesz and reflecting its own logic.

Listening to the year-end political addresses, the unchanged determination in Viktor Orbán’s communication was striking. His narrative remains consistent, his rhetoric clear, offering a distinct vision of the future to his supporters. The political offer, which suggests the further narrowing of the civic sphere and critical media, raises concern for many. Yet from an analytical perspective, it appears less as a surprise and more as another chapter of a long-established political strategy: the system continues to operate according to its own internal logic.

At the same time, Péter Magyar’s performance raises new questions. The politician who in recent months mobilized his followers forcefully and often confrontationally now steps onto the stage with the rhetoric of love and openness. The statement made in his address that “criticism is not an attack but a compass” in principle points toward a more democratic culture of debate. Yet many wonder how this claim aligns with earlier messages in which critics were portrayed as traitors or enemies.

From the outside, the duality within the movement’s communication is particularly striking. On stage, the promise of pluralism is emphasized, while within the political arena strong expectations of loyalty persist. When the idea of the “differently thinking ally” appears, many struggle to identify whom it refers to: previously rejected opposition figures, still-waiting Fidesz politicians, or perhaps merely a rhetorical gesture.

It is difficult not to notice the parallels between the functioning of the two major political blocs. Personal leadership, moralizing rhetoric, and sharply drawn boundaries are present on both sides. In the online discourse of the past two years, many have experienced that left-wing and liberal actors became targets of political attacks in ways similar to how critical voices were previously treated by the governing side. This mirror logic creates the impression that the system’s dynamics are being reproduced with new actors but in a familiar form.

Simplified, many voters today feel they are not choosing between two clearly distinct political futures, but between two mobilization models that resemble one another. One is well known; the other remains largely hypothetical in terms of how it would function in power. This uncertainty is what makes the upcoming election particularly heavy and unsettling.

Perhaps this is why it feels relevant to recall the lessons of Philip Zimbardo’s famous experiment. As the psychologist wrote: “After six days we had to end the mock prison because what we saw was terrifying… It was no longer clear where the people ended and their roles began.” The experiment warns that deep identification with roles can quickly override individual values, and communities may lose their connection to reality.

From within Hungary this may seem like an exaggerated metaphor, yet viewed from abroad it increasingly appears that political roles are shaping not only politicians but voters as well. The real question is not who wins the next election, but whether society can step out of this role-play and return to a political space where criticism truly functions as a compass rather than a weapon.

 

Cover photo credit: ChatGPT

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