At this stage in the development of the European branch of Western civilization, several underlying trends are becoming difficult to ignore:
First, the populations of European countries are, on the whole, becoming poorer—setting aside the top few percent. This decline is uneven. Periods of contraction are occasionally followed by modest recoveries, yet the overall trajectory remains unmistakably downward.
Second, Europeans are becoming less educated and less intellectually equipped. The deterioration is most visible in the decline of educational systems, but its effects extend far beyond the classroom, manifesting across public life—including in the striking resurgence of superstition and irrational belief.
Third, the scope of personal freedom is gradually narrowing. Here, too, the process is uneven, but persistent. Across Europe, activities and expressions that were permissible only a few years ago are no longer so.
Is there a floor to this decline? If there is, we have yet to see it. And when might the trend reverse? History suggests that reversal comes only when a group emerges that can both diagnose the causes of decline and marshal sufficient power to implement a coherent remedy.
The central problem, however, is not simply the erosion of freedom. It is the absence of any significant political force—whether in government or opposition—that possesses a credible vision for reversing civilizational decline. This is true across Europe, including the Czech Republic. Electoral success alone is of little use if one lacks a clear understanding of what ought to be done.
Until recently, the only apparent counterexample was Hungary under Viktor Orbán and his party, Fidesz. Over the past fifteen years, Hungary saw industrial expansion, the opening of schools and cultural institutions, relative stability in education, a reduction in public debt, and—by some measures—a comparatively broad scope of personal freedom within Europe.
That period now appears to have come to an end. As for Péter Magyar, even his own political intentions remain difficult to discern beyond a general opposition to Orbán. What is clearer is that figures linked to multinational corporate management are expected to play a decisive role in the new governing arrangement. If so, one might reasonably anticipate a rapid dismantling of what had been a distinct Hungarian model.
In that sense, Europe may have lost its only recent example of a functioning alternative.
It is worth noting, however, that Hungary’s contribution to the rest of Europe was always limited—apart from its role in halting the migration crisis. The Hungarian government did not seek to support opposition movements abroad, did not intervene in the domestic affairs of other states, and made little effort to export its ideas. Its most visible intellectual output was the rather dense monthly journal The European Conservative. For that reason, the practical consequences of Hungary’s “capture” by corporate interests for the broader European landscape are likely to be more modest than many commentators suggest.
Still, the loss of even a single working example matters. For now, there is little to do but wait for another to emerge. In the meantime, the Orbán-era model remains worth studying—if only because, since the 1980s, Europe has produced little that is comparable.