By John Q. Hosedrinker 
Hungary’s recent defeat of Viktor Orbán, a leader previously hailed as a model for MAGA ideology, suggests a potential shift away from authoritarian nationalism. This electoral outcome, coupled with Italian Prime Minister Giorgia Meloni’s rebuke of Donald Trump’s attacks on the Pope, indicates a growing resistance to populist strongmen and their rhetoric internationally. The article posits that Hungary, historically a beacon of liberty, may once again lead the way by demonstrating how liberal patriotism can triumph over authoritarianism. This shift raises the question of whether a similar revival of patriotic liberalism could occur in the United States.
Read the original article here
It’s a thought that seems to be gaining traction, this idea of “Orbán was first, Trump is next.” It’s not just a casual observation; it reflects a growing concern about a certain type of political leadership and its trajectory. Hungary’s experience under Viktor Orbán, a leader who has systematically consolidated power and weakened democratic institutions while maintaining a veneer of electoral legitimacy, is increasingly seen as a roadmap. He’s been in power since 2010, effectively demonstrating how to hollow out a democracy from the inside, keeping the lights on and elections technically running, but fundamentally altering the democratic landscape.
This comparison inevitably draws a line to Donald Trump. The parallels, for many, are not just coincidental but indicative of a broader trend in illiberal populism. Orbán’s playbook, which involves leveraging nationalistic sentiment, attacking independent media, and undermining the rule of law, is perceived by some as a model that Trump and his supporters might emulate or have already begun to. The concern is that the tactics employed in Hungary could find fertile ground elsewhere, particularly in nations with established democratic traditions that are perhaps less resilient than we assume.
The sentiment that “Trump is next” is often fueled by a frustration with perceived inaction and a fear of further democratic erosion. There’s a palpable sense that the political forces that have enabled Orbán’s long tenure in Hungary are at play in other countries, and that Trump represents a similar, if not more pronounced, manifestation of these trends. The idea that Orbán paved the way, and that Trump’s potential future actions are a continuation of this path, suggests a deep-seated anxiety about the direction of global politics.
However, the path to removing such leaders, or preventing their rise, is anything but straightforward. There’s a stark difference in how Orbán remained in power and the expectations surrounding Trump. While Orbán was, in some analyses, voted out of office, the argument for Trump’s removal is often framed as more immediate and less reliant on a traditional electoral process. The idea is that certain actions or characteristics, deemed disqualifying by some, should necessitate a swifter end to a leader’s tenure.
The challenges in achieving this are significant and deeply entrenched. For some, the hope lies in mass voting, the collective will of the people expressed at the ballot box. Yet, this very mechanism can be undermined by what are perceived as corrupt systems or widespread disinformation. The fear is that even with widespread desire for change, the electoral process itself can be manipulated, making the path to a democratic outcome precarious.
Then there’s the role of political parties and elected officials, who are often seen as holding the keys to accountability. The argument is made that the Republican party, for instance, could have acted decisively to remove Trump from office, but failed to do so. This inaction is often attributed to a lack of courage or a prioritization of political expediency over democratic principles. The idea of a threshold, where a certain number of votes in impeachment proceedings, for example, would lead to a cascade of support for conviction, is a hope that has largely remained unfulfilled.
The comparison to Orbán is particularly potent because of the perception that he has successfully managed to hollow out democratic institutions without outright dismantling them. Hungary’s system, while technically democratic, operates under a framework where opposition is marginalized, and the ruling party holds disproportionate power. This “managed democracy” model is what many fear could be replicated, a slow erosion rather than a dramatic overthrow.
The question then becomes one of inevitability versus agency. Is Trump’s potential “next step” a foregone conclusion, an almost destined continuation of the Orbán trajectory? Or is there still room for democratic resilience and intervention? The debate highlights a deep division: some see the damage as irreparable, the political system irrevocably altered, while others cling to the belief that democracy, however imperfect, can still prevail if enough people engage and fight against apathy and disinformation.
The hope for a democratic future often hinges on the ability to counteract the emotional appeals of strongman politics with reasoned discourse and a focus on policy that genuinely benefits the populace. The rhetoric of leaders like Orbán and Trump, while resonating with some on an emotional level, is often seen as masking policies that are ultimately unpopular and corrupt. The challenge is to break through this emotional appeal and highlight the practical consequences of their governance.
Ultimately, the assertion “Orbán was first. Trump is next.” is more than a prediction; it’s a warning. It’s a distillation of anxieties about the fragility of democracy and the seductive allure of authoritarian populism. It suggests that the lessons from Hungary are critical for understanding the potential future trajectory of American politics and, by extension, the global political landscape. The question remains whether this anticipated future can be averted, or if it represents an inevitable consequence of forces that are already deeply entrenched.