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How Hungary's Migration Model Became Europe's New Norm
The European Union seeks to punish Hungary just as it admits it was right all along.
In a characteristic display of hypocrisy from Brussels, the very migration policies branded as xenophobic and "un-European" a decade ago are now reshaping the EU's approach to border security. For over a decade, Hungary, under the leadership of Prime Minister Viktor Orbán, has faced relentless condemnation, legal battles, and staggering EU fines totaling hundreds of millions of dollars for its hardline stance against mass migration and forced migrant quotas.
Yet, as the bloc grapples with persistent pressures on its frontiers and with unassimilable masses at home, key elements of the "Hungarian way"—robust physical barriers, a broadened interpretation of safe third countries, and mechanisms enabling swift returns at the border—are being adopted wholesale. This exposes the Eurocrats' massive policy failure: in Europe's migration saga, realism eventually trumps rhetoric, but vindication comes at a steep, unjust price.
The blueprint of the Hungarian way was forged amid the chaos of the 2015 migration crisis, when hundreds of thousands of asylum-seekers, primarily from the Middle East, surged toward Europe via the Balkans. Hungary's Viktor Orbán moved decisively, establishing a tripartite strategy that prioritized border security over open-door policies to defend the EU's external borders. The Hungarian policy rests on three pillars: ironclad border fences, a broadened interpretation of the safe third country concept, and a zero-tolerance approach to asylum-seekers crossing irregularly.
During the summer of 2015, as hundreds of thousands of migrants from Syria, Afghanistan, and other Middle-Eastern countries poured through the Balkans en route mainly to Germany, the Hungarian government decided to erect a 108-mile-long razor-wire fence along its Southern border with Serbia, finishing it in the same year. The fence was subsequently extended to the Croatian-Hungarian border and reinforced by sensors, drones, thermal cameras, and a secondary fence during the following years. Orbán minced no words: "We don't see these people as Muslim refugees. We see them as Muslim invaders," warning that unchecked flows threaten Europe's Christian roots.
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The Hungarian blueprint succeeded in stopping the tidal wave of migrants, with crossings at the Hungarian Southern border plummeting from over 400,000 in 2015 to a trickle by 2016. While Orbán and his approach were labeled as racist and xenophobic, EU leaders also falsely claimed that it cannot work with then German chancellor Angela Merkel, claiming that "If we build a fence, people will find another way in," adding that "there is no stopping the arrivals."
As the EU was trying to impose a mandatory redistribution of asylum seekers among member states to address the crisis, the Hungarian model began to proliferate as other countries began to follow Orban's lead. Already in 2015, Slovenia erected a fence along the Croatian border 2015, dismantling it later but reinstating enhanced controls amid surges. Bulgaria completed a 161-mile-long fence with Turkey by 2017, slashing arrivals by 99 percent. Greece, a frontline country of migration flows from Turkey, extended its Evros river fence to about 21.75 miles by 2021, also adding patrols and tech to block crossings—mirroring Orbán's barrier strategy.
Construction of border walls and fences gained further momentum during the fall of 2021, when Belarus tried to artificially engineer a migration crisis by flying in asylum-seekers from the Middle East and directing them towards the Polish border. Facing a hybrid attack from its Eastern neighbor, Warsaw erected a 116-mile-long steel wall complete with surveillance equipment. Facing similar pressures, Latvia and Lithuania also erected physical border barriers. Finland, a bit later in 2023, announced the construction of a fence about 124.27 miles long. Between 2014 and 2022, the aggregate length of border barriers at the EU's external borders and within the Schengen area grew from 196 miles to 1272 miles.
The perennial question—who foots the bill?—exposed further cracks in EU orthodoxy. In October 2021, amid the Belarus standoff, 12 member states petitioned the European Commission for legislation to fund physical barriers. This echoed Orbán's 2017 demand for reimbursement of roughly $470 million—half the cost of Hungary's southern fences—which was rebuffed. Commission President Ursula von der Leyen was unequivocal in 2021, stating that the EU would not fund 'barbed wire and walls.' Yet, by early 2025, the tide had turned. EU Commissioner for Home Affairs Magnus Brunner signaled openness to financing such infrastructure, acknowledging their role in border management. This reversal highlights Brussels' growing pragmatism, driven by electoral pressures and security imperatives.
Another illustration of the current EU leadership's hypocrisy and political bias on migration is the implementation of Hungary's approach to the definition of the safe third country concept. A "safe third country" (STC) in EU asylum law is a non-EU country considered safe for asylum seekers, where EU member states can return applicants who could have applied for protection in that country instead. But only under the burden of proof of ties—such as family, work, etc.—between the asylum-seeker and the STC.
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Hungary's Prime Minister has argued since 2015 that mere transit through a safe third country, or the existence of a bilateral agreement, should be considered sufficient grounds to reject an asylum seeker automatically. He rebranded the old definition to the "first safe country" concept. True to his words, after a series of amendments to domestic law from 2016 onwards, all asylum applications submitted by migrants transiting through neighboring Serbia—"a first safe country"—were immediately deemed inadmissible.
Since entering office in May 2025, German chancellor Friedrich Merz—effectively endorsing Orban's view—has been pushing for reforms of the STC concept. The manifesto of his party now states, "Anyone who applies for asylum in Europe should be transferred to a safe third country." The breakthrough finally happened in early December, when the European Council agreed to revise the Safe Third Country (STC) concept, adopting Orbán's decade-old interpretation.
The Council's STC expansion broadens its criteria, dropping the need for a direct "connection" to the third country (such as family ties) and allowing blanket rejections based solely on passage through or brief stays in deemed-safe nations. Once branded illiberal, this approach has now been endorsed by 23 EU governments out of 27, vindicating Hungary's early realism and heralding in a revolutionary change in EU policy – after the European Parliament's apparent right-wing majority gives its nod too.
The third pillar of Hungarian Migration Policy, zero tolerance for irregular entries, has similarly infiltrated EU policy through veiled mechanisms. EU law does not explicitly allow "pushbacks" at borders, as that would violate the EU Charter of Fundamental Rights and the 1951 Geneva Convention. But in 2024, Brussels created legal structures that, in some instances, de facto make them possible. Its core tool, the "non-entry" fiction, allows states to treat people on EU soil as if they had not entered at all. In the "non-entry zones," authorities can detain, block registration, and remove people back across the border without ever opening an asylum procedure, and, as a new addition, can exclude NGOs and legal aid.
Combined with the planned widening of the STC rules, these mechanisms effectively legalize pushbacks in all but name. Seemingly, the EU has given in and is going all-in for stricter border protection. However, all these reforms still come bundled with mandatory solidarity, under which states must accept the relocation of migrants or pay around $23,000 per refusal, with the funds going to frontline states to handle arrivals.
And here we arrive at Hungary's paradox. As a frontline state that has virtually eliminated irregular arrivals through its innovations, Budapest is a victim of its own efficacy. The European Court of Justice, aligning with the Commission's pro-open-borders stance, ruled in 2020 and 2023 that Hungary's extensive use of STCs and border pushbacks breached EU law.
In 2024, it imposed a $230 million lump-sum fine and a $1.17 million daily fine for continued noncompliance—for an "unprecedented and exceptionally serious breach." By Q3 2026, penalties could surpass $1 billion, equating to 0.4 percent of Hungary's GDP. As EU leadership is gradually incorporating elements of Orban's initial approach, Hungary continues to fund its border defense and is paying a fine for keeping the migrants out. Hungary is vindicated, yet exorbitantly penalized.
This dissonance reveals the unelected eurocrats' detachment from sovereign realities and rising public backlash against unmanaged migration. As Orbán's realism permeates the bloc, Hungary's vindication is bittersweet: penalized for foresight while its roadmap saves Europe from itself. In an Orwellian twist, fines for defying outdated ideals may simply be rebranded as "solidarity contributions" once the Hungarian model becomes official doctrine. Europe must confront this hypocrisy, lest it erode the very union it seeks to preserve. Actual progress demands not punishment for effectiveness, but partnership in securing shared borders.
About the Authors: Monika Palotai and Kristof Gyorgy Veres
Monika Palotai is a senior fellow at the Religious Freedom Institute and an expert at the Warsaw Institute. She holds a BA in Communication and Media from the Budapest Business School, Hungary; a JD from the Károli Gáspár University of the Reformed Church, Hungary; a Sharia Law (LL.M.) from the University of Sharjah; and an MA in International Public Service from the University of Public Service, Hungary. Subsequently, she continued her studies in the PhD program of the Doctoral School of Public Administration Sciences as a recipient of a Hungarian state scholarship.
Kristof Gyorgy Veres is a non-resident fellow at the Center for the National Interest and the international director of the Danube Institute. He earned a PhD in History from the Faculty of Humanities at Eötvös Loránd University (Budapest) in 2021. He also holds an MA degree in archival sciences. Prior to his current position, he worked as a researcher at the Budapest-based Migration Research Institute. He joined the Center for Immigration Studies in September 2021 as an Andrássy National Security Fellow for 14 months.