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Qabil Ashirov

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Exactly one year ago, a profound sense of historical dread settled over the proponents of liberal democracy. The image of the Ukrainian President standing in the White House, seemingly cornered by the US President Donald Trump and his team, felt like a funeral dirge for the international order. For many, it evoked the tragic spirit of Stefan Zweig, the prominent novelist, who, in 1942, took his own life after losing faith in the survival of humanism against the tide of totalitarianism. The atmosphere was heavy with the belief that the "center" had not only failed but had been permanently erased.

This perception was amplified by the digital and industrial giants of Silicon Valley. When major technology firms threw their weight behind Donald Trump, a proponent of the populist right, it created a terrifying synergy: the marriage of 21st-century algorithm power with 19th-century nationalist rhetoric. The narrative seemed unstoppable. As European leaders were summoned to Washington, often subjected to public snubs or portrayed as weakened figures in a leaderless continent, the "death of Europe" became a favorite talking point of the populist right. This manufactured image of European impotence directly fueled the rise of the AfD in Germany and reinforced Marine Le Pen’s narrative in France. The message was clear: the era of integration was over, and the era of the "strongman" had returned.

However, the lifespan of this "populist victory" turned out to be remarkably short. The unraveling began where many historical overreaches start: in the fires of military intervention. The decision by the U.S. and Israel to initiate a bombing campaign against Iran served as the catalyst for a global realignment. Rather than folding under pressure, the first major flag of rebellion was raised by Spain. Prime Minister Pedro Sánchez’s blunt refusal to support the American military adventure and his open criticism of Washington’s unilateralism shattered the illusion of a submissive Europe. When other European capitals followed Spain’s lead, the United States found itself in its most isolated position in modern history—unable to force a victory in Iran and unable to command its oldest allies.

The threat of a U.S. withdrawal from NATO, once a terrifying prospect used to blackmail European states, was met with a calculated counter-move. Sánchez’s strategic visit to Beijing served as a masterclass in 21st-century diplomacy. Much like Dr. B in Stefan Zweig’s Chess Story, who anticipated and neutralized Mirko Czentovic’s every move, Sánchez preempted Washington’s bluff. It signaled to Washington that if the transatlantic bridge was to be burned by American populism, Europe was ready to seek a multipolar reality. It proved that while Washington was strong, it was far from the omnipotent force the populist right believed it to be. The American failure to resolve the Iranian crisis became the first major crack in the populist façade.

The second and perhaps most decisive blow landed in Budapest. For years, Viktor Orbán had been the "North Star" for the global right—the man who proved that a nation could remain within the European Union while dismantling its democratic foundations. Yesterday, the heart of the world beat in Hungary. The stakes were unprecedented. In a rare alignment of interests, both Moscow and the Trump-led Washington threw their full weight behind Orbán. The visit of the U.S. Vice President to Budapest just days before the vote, coupled with Trump’s live-streamed endorsements, was intended to project an image of inevitable victory. The populist-controlled social media ecosystem hummed with the prediction that the European Union’s collapse would begin in Budapest.

Yet, the voters of Hungary chose a different path. The defeat of Viktor Orbán and the victory of Peter Magyar, whose platform is rooted in European integration and the rule of law, signifies a profound psychological shift. It demonstrates that the populist promise—built on the rhetoric of "enemies" and the cult of personality—eventually collapses when it fails to provide economic stability and global respect.

The "Zweigian" despair that gripped the world a year ago has begun to lift. We are witnessing the limits of populism. From the streets of Madrid to the ballot boxes of Budapest, a new realization is dawning: the center-right and the progressive left are not dead; they have simply found their voice in the face of chaos. The narrative of an "inevitable" right-wing takeover has been replaced by a reality of resilience. Europe, once mocked as a collection of leaderless states, has emerged as the unexpected anchor of the global order, proving that democracy’s greatest strength is its ability to survive its own predicted demise.