Péter Magyar’s rise marks one of the most significant upheavals in Hungary’s political landscape in recent years. A former government insider who later became one of the strongest critics of Viktor Orbán’s long-standing rule, Magyar’s movement attracted hundreds of thousands of supporters across the country. On the 9th of May, when he was officially sworn in as Hungary’s new prime minister, many gathered outside Parliament, not only to witness a political transition, but to share what they saw as a historic moment.
More than two months have passed since that 9th of May. While the formal ceremony took place inside Parliament, hundreds of thousands of people gathered just outside, in Kossuth Square and the surrounding streets, to follow the historic moment together. For many of us who were present, the day became a rare collective experience that went beyond politics and created a memory that will likely stay with us for the rest of our lives.
Looking back, what remains most powerful is not only the significance of the occasion itself, but the countless small human moments that surrounded it. Conversations between strangers, exchanged smiles, gestures of kindness and the feeling of belonging to something larger than ourselves slowly formed an invisible but tangible bond. The individual experiences of hundreds of thousands of people came together into something that felt almost like a shared fabric – and that fabric had a name: hope.
For days after the event, I struggled to find the right form in which to describe what I experienced in front of Parliament. Even now, more than two months later, the emotions and thoughts connected to that experience remain vivid. So, what follows is not intended to be a complete account of every event or every political implication, but rather a deeply personal and subjective reflection from someone who stood among the crowd and witnessed a moment that felt extraordinary.
A Feeling of Joy and Calm
Before my husband and I even reached Kossuth Square, we could already feel that the atmosphere was different. As we walked along Alkotmány Street towards Parliament, it quickly became clear that we were not arriving at a traditional political rally. It did not feel like an event defined only by political loyalty or party identity. Instead, it felt like a celebration created by the people themselves – a gathering shaped by ordinary citizens who had come together to witness a historic moment. Despite the enormous crowd, the atmosphere remained calm, joyful, and welcoming. People moved patiently alongside one another, with no visible tension or conflict between participants. Strangers smiled at each other, exchanged high-fives, and even embraced, creating a sense of shared excitement and connection among people who had never met before. The streets were filled with laughter, singing, and dancing, while vendors lined the edges of Alkotmány Street, selling Hungarian flags, drinks, and traditional salted pretzels. The overall atmosphere felt less like a political gathering and more like a shared public celebration.
We found a place in the shade where we had a good view of the events taking place in front of Parliament which were also being screened on large projectors for the crowd to see. From there, I tried to observe both what was happening on stage and what was happening around me. And then, almost unexpectedly, I realised that I felt something I had not expected to feel in such a massive crowd: calm.
It was not the exhausted silence that many Hungarians have grown used to after years of political tension, social division and uncertainty. This was something entirely different. It was a light, almost weightless feeling of peace. Surrounded by people whose names I did not know and whose lives I would probably never otherwise encounter, I somehow felt safe. In the brief moments when our eyes met, I sensed kindness, trust and openness – qualities that can sometimes feel increasingly rare in everyday life.
The Possibility of Living Together
Even now, it feels almost unbelievable to write this, but while standing in that enormous crowd I found myself thinking: perhaps this is what Hungary could be like. Perhaps we could live in a country where people do not need to agree on everything in order to respect one another; where different kinds of people can stand side by side, talk, smile, sing and celebrate together without first asking where the other person comes from or what they believe.
I kept looking around, trying to understand who made up this enormous crowd. There were families, couples, elderly people, young people, people from rural Hungary and people from Budapest. They came from different backgrounds and probably would never have met each other under ordinary circumstances, yet on that day they were standing together, looking in the same direction.
I had never before experienced what it meant to truly feel that I belonged to the people of my country. That feeling moved me deeply and it gave me strength. For a brief moment, the divisions that often define public life seemed to disappear, replaced by something much simpler: the feeling that we were all part of the same community.
Nobody Looked Away
What stayed with me most from that day were not only the speeches, the official ceremony or the political symbolism, but the way people treated one another. We had not come only for a political event. We came for ourselves, for the people we love, for our children, and perhaps also for those who had already lost hope that change was possible. Many of us wanted to be part of a moment that might one day find its place in Hungary’s history.
Yet some of the most powerful memories came from the quiet, almost unnoticed moments.
Among the crowd were families who had brought relatives with physical or intellectual disabilities. I saw parents pushing wheelchairs carrying children with severe disabilities, while Hungarian flags waved beside them and they smiled, taking part in the celebration just like everyone else.
What struck me most was not only their presence, but the way the people around them responded. Nobody looked away. There were no uncomfortable stares, no awkward distance, no sense that these families somehow belonged outside the community. They were not treated as exceptions or outsiders; they were simply part of the crowd, part of the celebration, part of that shared moment.
For a few hours, many of the things that usually divide people seemed to lose their importance. It no longer mattered where someone came from, how much money they earned, whom they loved, or what circumstances shaped their life. Everyone had the same opportunity to walk down Alkotmány Street, sing, dance and celebrate.
As the mother of an autistic child, I cannot think of many things I want more than to live in a society where this kind of acceptance is not a rare and emotional exception, but simply the way people treat one another every day. I want to believe that a more humane Hungary is possible – not just for a few hours during a historic gathering, but as a lasting reality.
Hungary
In many ways, what made that day special was not politics itself. The strongest memories I carry are connected less to political messages and more to the atmosphere that surrounded us: the sense that people were allowed, perhaps even encouraged, to feel hopeful together.
Beyond the overall atmosphere, several symbolic moments deepened the emotional significance of the gathering. A particularly meaningful moment was the performance by the SUGO Tamburazenekar, a youth ensemble from the village of Sükösd that performs traditional Hungarian music on the tambura, a traditional stringed instrument. During one of Péter Magyar’s earlier tours around the country, he visited Sükösd, where the children performed for him. He promised that one day he would invite them to perform in front of the Hungarian Parliament, and this event fulfilled that promise, reinforcing the sense of community and shared participation.
Gábor Presser’s appearance was another meaningful moment, as he is one of Hungary’s most influential musicians and songwriters, whose work is deeply embedded in the country’s cultural memory. When the crowd sang Mi vagyunk a Grund (We Are the Grund) from the musical adaptation of A Pál utcai fiúk (The Paul Street Boys), one of Hungary’s most beloved novels, the moment reflected a shared cultural memory and a sense of collective identity among participants.
The removal of the barriers around Parliament carried a particularly strong symbolic meaning, representing a temporary opening between citizens and one of the country’s most important political institutions. Finally, the performance of Magyarország by Oláh Ibolya, a Hungarian singer of Romani origin, was especially moving. After many years, she performed the song publicly again, making the moment particularly significant. The song, strongly associated with feelings of national belonging and emotional attachment to Hungary, brought these individual symbolic moments together into one shared emotional experience.
Each of these moments carried its own meaning, but together they formed something larger than a ceremony. They became symbols of connection, belonging and the possibility that public life could be shaped by something other than anger and division. For many of us, they became small pillars of hope.
I also cannot leave out the moment that was later widely discussed as the “Dancing Minister” scene. During the gathering, Zsolt Hegedűs, the newly appointed Minister of Health, unexpectedly began dancing on the steps of Parliament among the crowd. The moment quickly attracted widespread attention, being discussed on television programs, shared across social media platforms, and covered by international media outlets, turning a spontaneous personal gesture into one of the most memorable images of the event. The location itself added to the symbolic meaning of the moment, as the steps of the Hungarian Parliament represent one of the country’s most visible and politically significant public spaces.
Some observers questioned whether such gestures were simply political theatre – carefully created moments intended to influence public perception – while others saw something much simpler: a rare display of human spontaneity and openness from someone in a position of power. For many participants, the scene represented a temporary breaking down of the distance that often exists between politicians and citizens, as a government figure appeared not only as an official, but also as an approachable and relatable person.
Perhaps only time will show what these gestures ultimately mean. But the fact remains that Zsolt Hegedűs danced on the steps of Parliament that day, creating a moment that resonated far beyond the immediate gathering. If the attitude behind that gesture – the willingness to appear approachable, human, and connected to ordinary people – also shapes his work in office, then many of us can hope for a healthier future in more ways than one.
Our Day
Originally, we had planned to come to Budapest with the whole family, but in the end only my husband and I made the journey. It happened to be our twelfth wedding anniversary, which gave the day an even more personal meaning.
We do not drink alcohol, but we decided to mark the occasion with a small toast. We raised glasses of cherry beer served in cups carrying the words Működő Magyarország (A Hungary That Works). Just as we took our first sips, the song Amikor feladnád (When You Feel Like Giving Up) by Halott Pénz began playing. Its message about standing by someone through difficulties, remaining connected, and not giving up on each other felt deeply personal on our twelfth wedding anniversary. In that unexpected moment, the song seemed to reflect the bond and shared journey that had brought us there together.
At the same time, the song became part of something much larger than our own story. The lyrics, the atmosphere around us, and the awareness that we were witnessing a moment many people had waited for all came together in a single emotional experience. We stood there quietly, wiping away a few tears, before allowing ourselves to be carried away by the energy, music, and joy of the celebration around us.
More than two months have passed since that day, and naturally the intensity of that moment has faded. Everyday life has returned with all its difficulties, uncertainties and questions. I do not know what this new chapter in Hungarian politics will ultimately bring, or whether the sense of unity and hope we experienced that day will last.
But I do know this: for a few hours in Budapest, hundreds of thousands of people experienced something that many had almost forgotten was possible. We saw strangers smile at one another, people stand side by side despite their differences, and a public space become a place of connection rather than division.
Perhaps that is what remains most valuable from that day – not a promise about the future, but a reminder of what is possible when people choose to see each other as fellow human beings.
This is where hope begins – for me, and perhaps for the Hungary we hope to build.
All photos were taken by the author
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