In a city once synonymous with Viktor Orban's populist crackdown, Budapest has just held its first Pride march since the strongman's departure. The event, which drew tens of thousands, marks a decisive shift in Hungary's political landscape. But this is no mere street party. It is a signal, a declaration that liberal democracy has punched back.
Sources close to the organising committee confirm that attendance doubled compared to last year's tense gathering under Orban's watch. Marchers carried banners reading 'Freedom Returns' and 'No More Fear'. The atmosphere was electric. But I've seen enough celebrations turn sour to know that the real work starts now.
The fall of Orban's government, which had branded Pride events as 'threats to Christian values', was sudden. A corruption scandal involving state funds and his son-in-law unravelled his coalition. The new interim administration, led by a coalition of liberals and greens, immediately restored funding for LGBT+ organisations and reversed the ban on same-sex adoption. Uncovered documents from Orban's interior ministry show a planned crackdown on Pride, including mass arrests, should he have won a fourth term.
But I'm not popping champagne yet. The new government faces a judiciary packed with Orban loyalists. The economy is in tatters, with foreign investors spooked by years of nationalist rhetoric. And the populist embers still glow. A counter-protest, albeit small, was held by far-right groups who chanted 'Hungary for Hungarians'. The police kept them a block away, but the tension was palpable.
What this Pride really shows is that democracy is not a light switch. It is a process. The people of Budapest have spoken, but the oligarchs who profited from Orban's rule haven't fled. They are hiding in boardrooms and bank accounts. My sources in the financial sector tell me that millions of euros in assets linked to Orban's allies have already been moved offshore. The new government's promise to claw back 'stolen wealth' will be a bloody fight.
Yet for one day, Budapest's streets were rainbow-hued. A 65-year-old retired teacher, who attended her first Pride in 1995, told me: 'I never thought I'd see this again. But now we have to guard it with our lives.' She knows, as I do, that liberal victories are fragile. The tide of populism can rise again. But today, the sun shone on the Danube. And that is something special.
