Power rarely leaves quietly. It sulks, improvises and when threatened, looks for enemies convenient enough to explain away declining fortunes. In Hungary Viktor Orbán increasingly appears to be entering that familiar phase. After years of commanding dominance, electoral tremors and economic strain have begun to erode the aura of inevitability that once surrounded him. And now in a move that feels strikingly familiar to observers of modern populism, Orbán has reached for a tactic perfected elsewhere, blame the outsider, preferably one already fighting for survival.
Ukraine, astonishingly, has become the latest villain in this narrative. The accusation that Ukraine is somehow responsible for energy disruptions and sabotage affecting Hungary, lands with a peculiar irony. Ukraine is a country defending itself against invasion, struggling to maintain infrastructure under relentless attack and pleading for international solidarity. Yet within Orbán’s rhetoric, it morphs into a destabilizing actor conspiring against Hungarian prosperity. The logic is less geopolitical than theatrical. It is not meant to persuade experts; it is meant to reassure voters who feel anxious, poorer, and uncertain.
This strategy echoes a political playbook made famous during Donald Trump’s presidency, when domestic challenges mount, redirect frustration outward. Economic discomfort becomes foreign sabotage. Policy failures become conspiracies. Complex energy markets are reduced to moral dramas starring heroes and traitors. The narrative simplifies reality while absolving leadership of responsibility.
Hungary’s energy troubles, like those across Europe, stem from a complicated convergence of war, market volatility, long-standing dependency on Russian energy and structural economic choices. But complexity is politically inconvenient. Populism thrives on clarity, especially the clarity of blame. Orbán’s government has long portrayed itself as Hungary’s protector against Brussels bureaucrats, migrants, liberal elites and global financiers. Ukraine now joins that rotating cast of adversaries.
What makes this moment particularly revealing is its timing. Orbán’s political strength has always rested on stability, predictable economic growth, controlled media narratives and a cultivated image of national sovereignty. When voters begin to feel instability, higher prices, energy insecurity, slower growth, the myth of control weakens. Leaders facing such erosion rarely admit vulnerability. Instead they escalate rhetoric.
The accusation against Ukraine serves multiple purposes at once. It distances Hungary from European consensus supporting Kyiv, reinforcing Orbán’s longstanding scepticism toward collective EU policies. It signals independence from Western expectations while maintaining domestic loyalty among voters weary of economic sacrifice. And perhaps most importantly, it reframes Hungary as a victim rather than a participant in its own policy consequences.
There is also a psychological dimension to this manoeuvre. Populist governance depends heavily on emotional alignment between leader and electorate. When a leader appears dispirited, less triumphant, more defensive, the narrative must compensate. External threats restore urgency. Crisis revives unity. A nation under perceived attack rallies more easily than one asked to confront bureaucratic mismanagement or strategic miscalculations.
Yet such politics carry risks. Blaming Ukraine may energize a domestic base but it places Hungary increasingly at odds with allies and realities alike. Energy systems do not respond to speeches, and markets rarely obey nationalist storytelling. Eventually, lived experience confronts political mythmaking. Citizens notice when explanations fail to lower bills or improve stability.
History suggests that the politics of blame works best as a temporary shield. It buys time, reshapes headlines and postpones accountability. But it also narrows the space for honest governance. Each new accusation raises expectations that enemies, not policies, are the true source of hardship. And when hardships persist, the search for villains must continue, growing louder and less convincing.
Orbán’s turn toward accusing Ukraine may therefore signal less strategic confidence than political fatigue. It feels like the gesture of a leader who senses the ground shifting beneath him and reaches instinctively for familiar tools. The question is not whether such tactics will resonate in the short term, they often do but whether Hungarian voters, facing tangible economic pressures, will continue accepting narratives that explain everything except the decisions made at home. Blame is easy politics. Responsibility, however, is harder to postpone forever.
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