Similarities and differences between Serbia and Hungary, and the tortuous path to redemocratisation

Budapest. On 25 October, the express train that had departed from Budapest in April – when Péter Magyar brought Orbán’s reign to an end – made its triumphant arrival in Belgrade. This remains a metaphorical train, pending the resumption on 13 December of the rail link between Serbia and Hungary, following a refurbishment funded by China through the New Silk Road project – a project tainted not only by corruption but also by the culpable disaster caused by the collapse, in November 2024, of the canopy at Novi Sad station. The sixteen victims of that tragedy became the spark that ignited a massive protest movement – as radical as it was peaceful – which originated in the universities and spread throughout society as a counterpoint to sterile political opposition.

Grassroots mobilisation is nothing new in post-Yugoslav Serbia, where student movements have always been at the heart of anti-authoritarian protests, from Milosevic to his former associate Vucic. The turning point came about through the youth movement’s ability – after much hesitation – to devise a systemic alternative to Vučić’s mafia-style autocracy, transforming street protests into political action and a protest movement into a government programme.

What unites and what divides the Serbian Students’ List from the Hungarian (non-)party Tisza, led by Péter Magyar, which to this day remains the informal umbrella organisation for a myriad of local political initiatives led by ideologically diverse activists? And what can we reasonably expect from the region’s post-authoritarian governments?

It is not difficult to find common ground between these experiences. The main one lies in the moral motivations – even more so than economic or geopolitical ones – underpinning the change. The Serbian student movement, just like the thousands of ‘Tisza islands’ that have sprung up in Hungary like flowers in the political and ideological desert of Orbánism, represent two sides of the same uprising that gave rise to the Ukrainian Maidan: a surge of individual and collective freedom and the demand to live in a state of citizens rather than subjects.

However, the obvious – and significant – differences should not be overlooked. Tisza is led by the charismatic Péter Magyar, without whom the movement representing almost 70 per cent of Hungarian MPs would melt away like snow in the sun. The Serbian student movement, by contrast, is a polyphonic chorus, with all the risks associated with the absence of strong leadership. Serbian students share a post-liberal nationalism with Magyar’s movement. Whilst, however, Budapest operates within the Euro-Atlantic political and security system, Belgrade is exposed to the winds from the east. Not only do the students regard Kosovo as part of Serbia, but they are lukewarm towards Brussels, hostile to NATO, and open to pragmatic cooperation with Beijing and Moscow. It should also be noted that in recent years, 100,000 Russian citizens—officially fleeing Putin—have flooded into Belgrade, transforming it into a Russian linguistic and economic outpost.

The task facing both governments is a daunting one, as the new leaders in Budapest can attest. The legacy of autocratic regimes based on the patronage-driven management of resources and a culture of silence typical of the Mafia is even more difficult to deal with than that left by systems governed by a clear ideology. Political scientists such as Larry Diamond and Steven Levitsky teach us that a return to a functioning democracy after a long period of autocratic rule is complex, if not rare. Democratic transition is not an irreversible process: the risk of an authoritarian counter-revolution is high in the absence of established institutions and social mobilisation.

By a twist of fate, the future of the ousted Eastern European autocrats seems to be intertwined, just as their respective fortunes once were. According to The Times, Vučić had planned a coup to avoid being forced to step down, but a number of phone calls from European chancelleries reportedly convinced him to back down. Rumours in Belgrade suggest that the decisive phone call came from his old ally Orbán. Curiously, similar reports were circulating in Budapest in the run-up to the 12 April elections. Although aware of his likely defeat, Orbán had shown himself determined to resist until the very end, and it is said that a firm message from his European partners, as well as a breakdown in the security apparatus, was needed to persuade him to telephone his Hungarian rival whilst the vote was still underway, conceding defeat.