By Damien Le-Hoste
June is designated as Pride Month in many countries, but Orbán’s Hungary has essentially banned Pride events, masking democratic backsliding behind culture wars. Damien Le-Hoste unpacks the political theatre fueling authoritarian tactics ahead of a crucial 2026 election.
On March 18, Hungary’s Parliament overwhelmingly (and unsurprisingly, given Prime Minister Viktor Orbán’s supermajority) passed a bill
making it an offense to organize or attend events that violate the “child protection” law, which already includes bans on discussing LGBTQ+ identities in educational content, media, and advertising accessible to minors.
Critics argue that these measures are designed to intimidate and silence the LGBTQ+ community under the guise of protecting children—effectively banning Pride events by stealth. The law which followed may also be read as part of the broader liberal-democratic backsliding playing out across Europe. As Hungary inches closer to the 2026 general election—and with the newly founded Tisza Party beginning to overtake Fidesz in the polls, all this amounts to is carefully choreographed political theater.
The rainbow-colored smoke released by opposition MPs in Hungary’s parliamentary chamber in March did more than interrupt proceedings—it drew attention to the pace and process by which the law was enacted. Their demonstration, as well as leading to six MPs from the liberal Momentum party and independent MP Ákos Hadházy being banned for up to two months and their salaries docked, underscored the government’s decision to forgo wider consultation on legislation that directly affects fundamental rights.
Under Prime Minister Orbán, laws of this kind are increasingly passed through accelerated procedures, with limited debate or public input.
The forced relocation of Central European University in 2017, for example, and the rapid overhaul of the KATA tax system in 2022, signal a pattern of accelerated lawmaking that often coincides with moments of mounting political pressure—moments like the one Hungary is facing now.
Hungary is grappling with stubborn inflation, circa EUR 21 billion in cohesion and recovery funds earmarked for Hungary remain frozen due to ongoing concerns over the rule of law violations, and a surging opposition in the form of the Tisza Party. Orbán’s once ironclad grip is beginning to fracture.
The Pride legislation—rushed through in a day—is less about protecting public morality and more about deflecting from economic hardship, democratic decay, and the crumbling of his once unshakable dominance.
When governance falters, culture wars become the fallback script.
These legislative blitzes aren’t isolated. A moral panic is declared, a law is rushed through, dissent is criminalized —and democratic norms are repackaged as cultural contamination: see Florida’s anti-LGBTQ+ education laws, which were passed almost overnight. In Russia, so-called “gay propaganda” laws were fast-tracked under the auspices of protecting national values. And in Turkey, Erdogan has used emergency powers and overnight legislation to quash dissent and reshape civil space. What connects them? Velocity. The Bingham Centre has framed Law issue, which undermines transparency.
This stealth ban isn’t just about criminalizing a march.
Under the new Hungarian law, the police are authorized to use facial recognition to identify participants at banned events,
pushing Hungary into surveillance-state territory. Once identified, individuals can be prosecuted under the amended Section 189 of Hungary’s 2012 Petty Offenses Act, a law designed initially for minor offenses, now retrofitted to punish peaceful assembly —classic one-two punch: surveillance first, then administrative punishment — fines ranging between EUR 16–500. The result? A chilling effect that extends well beyond the LGBTQ+ community.
Who can gather publicly? Who is allowed to dissent? Who has access to the public square? These are not niche questions; they are core to a functioning democracy. In Orbán’s Hungary, the answer increasingly depends on whether your identity or message aligns with Fidesz’s ideology.
Orbán’s government is doing more than suppressing a marginalized community; it’s probing the limits of public tolerance.
If a peaceful, three-decades-old civil rights march can be made illegal overnight, with participants surveilled and punished, then no one’s right to assembly is secure. Hungary’s Sovereignty Protection Office targets NGOs, journalists, and academics under the guise of rooting out “foreign influence.” Media freedom has collapsed, suffocating independent journalism, NGOs face legal harassment and have been branded “foreign agents.” Meanwhile, judicial independence has eroded, leading to fewer institutional checks and balances on a government that is steadily rewriting the rules of democratic life.
Orbán’s ban on Pride should also be read in the context of his growing alignment with the global strongman set. He has openly praised Vladimir Putin’s brand of “illiberal democracy,” welcomed Donald Trump’s attacks on the rule of law, and built close ties with leaders like Turkey’s Erdoğan and Serbia’s Vucic. These are men who use cultural grievance, fear-mongering, and anti-minority legislation to maintain power in the face of economic instability or public discontent. From Trump’s trans panic to the UK’s criminalization of protest and asylum-seeking, the playbook is all too familiar: define a vulnerable group, distort their visibility into a threat, then legislate against them under the banner of protecting “the nation”—copy, paste, rinse, and repeat.
But will it work? Opinion polls suggest a shift in Hungary’s political landscape with the Tisza Party, led by former Orbán ally Peter Magyar, gaining traction among voters. A Median survey completed recently shows that 46% of decided voters support Tisza, while Fidesz-KDNP trails at 37%. This is a sharp decline in Fidesz support despite being dominant in Hungarian politics for over a decade. Magyar’s commitment to reinstating EU funding and implementing robust anti-corruption measures resonates with a populace eager for reform. These developments underscore a pivotal moment in Hungary’s political journey, and demonstrate, in real-time, the life cycle of the authoritarian ‘broligarch’ coupling.
This wholesale erosion of rights will not stop dissent; it will bring it into sharp focus.
What happens in Budapest this summer is a warning.
The tactics playing out in Hungary—rapid legislation, cultural scapegoating, and pressure on civil society—aren’t isolated. What’s happening in Budapest is a signal: the defense of rights and freedoms requires vigilance, not just abroad, but at home.
Damien Le-Hoste is completing a creative writing and journalism master’s at City St. George’s University.
