Hungary votes on 12 April 2026, and for the first time in a generation, the outcome is genuinely uncertain. Prime Minister Viktor Orbán has consolidated power over 16 consecutive years, becoming a Eurosceptic standard-bearer, but his grip on power is facing its most serious challenge yet, as his right-wing Fidesz party trails the opposition by double digits ahead of polling day the result will be framed as a contest between the pro-Russian government and the anti-corruption, pro-NATO opposition. But for ordinary Hungarians and the Roma community, who make up roughly 7pc of the population, the more relevant question is whether political choice exists in any meaningful sense, writes Mensur Haliti, Vice President for Democracy and Governance at the Roma Foundation for Europe.
It is debatable if the likely electoral outcomes would offer any reassurance. The opposition Tisza party, founded by former Fidesz insider Péter Magyar in 2024, has struck a chord with Hungarians frustrated by a stagnating economy, a cost-of-living crisis, and rampant corruption. Tisza is leading the polls and has put forward several Roma candidates, yet its 240-page programme contains no structural reforms to address political exclusion. At the same time, Viktor Orbán’s Fidesz, after fourteen years in power, could retain control with the support of Mi Hazánk, a party widely criticised for openly racist positions. Neither scenario addresses the system that limits how Roma participation translates into power.
Hungary has already tested what representation without influence looks like. Between 2022 and 2026, Roma MPs sat in parliament as part of the opposition, while the governing majority remained unchanged. During that period, early school leaving among Roma reached 62.7pc compared to 9.9 per cent among non-Roma. Court rulings on school segregation remained unimplemented, and allegations of large-scale misuse of EU funds continued to surface, with limited domestic follow-through. Representation, unfortunately, did not translate into institutional change.
Segregated schools and poor education are the biggest challenges. Around 35 per cent of Roma students attend majority-Roma schools, and segregation complaints account for nearly 70 per cent of those received by Hungary’s ombudsman.
Furthermore, around 38 per cent of Roma youth are not in employment, education or training, compared to 9 per cent of non-Roma. Employment rates remain far lower: 55 per cent for Roma men and 36 per cent for Roma women.
These outcomes are closely tied to how political power operates. In parts of the country, Roma votes can be decisive, yet leverage remains weak, shaped by dependency on public work schemes, conditional benefits, and local authority structures. Voting is not only a matter of preference, but often of economic survival.
The pattern extends beyond recent election cycles. In earlier elections, particularly at the local level, vote-buying, dependence on public works schemes, and pressure through informal power structures shaped electoral behaviour. These practices were rarely investigated, and though participation delivered legitimacy, it did not produce accountability.
More recent evidence suggests these dynamics persist. The documentary The Price of a Vote released a few days ago, documents cases of coercion linked to access to services and local authority power, raising serious questions about the conditions under which electoral choices are made.
Hungary’s broader governance context reinforces the pattern. The country scored 40 out of 100 in the 2025 Corruption Perceptions Index, placing it at the bottom of the EU alongside Bulgaria, after a 15-point decline since 2012. Weak accountability and political exclusion reinforce one another.
Earlier this year, a government minister described Roma as a “labour reserve” for unpopular jobs such as cleaning train toilets, prompting protests in Budapest with more than 1,000 demonstrators. The episode shows how economic narratives and political messaging intersect to shape perceptions and policies.
For Roma voters, the practical choice remains constrained. A Tisza-led government may offer symbolic inclusion without structural change. A Fidesz-led government, particularly with far-right partners, risks deepening existing patterns of control. In both cases, the core mechanisms shaping political agency remain intact.
One example is Hungary’s system of “minority self-government”, elected bodies meant to represent recognised national minorities, including Roma, at local and national level. These bodies have consultative roles in areas such as education and culture but limited decision-making power and weak financial autonomy. While often presented as a model, the system creates a structural trade-off. Roma candidates who run in minority self-government elections are often excluded from party lists in national elections, and vice versa. This limits the ability to build influence simultaneously within minority structures and mainstream political institutions. Rather than enabling political participation, the system channels representation into a parallel track with limited power. No other electorate is required to trade political influence for cultural representation.
