On Saturday, September 27, 2025, the quiet Hungarian countryside near Alcsútdoboz was anything but tranquil. Hundreds of protesters gathered at the gates of Hatvanpuszta, a sprawling country estate that has become a lightning rod for allegations of corruption swirling around Prime Minister Viktor Orbán. The scene was striking: demonstrators, some clutching zebra-shaped balloons, others hoisting signs with anti-government slogans, lined up to peer over fences and screens that shielded the estate from public view. Their message was clear—they believe Hatvanpuszta is a symbol of how power and privilege have become intertwined in modern Hungary.
Hatvanpuszta, originally built as an agricultural manor in the 19th century by a member of the Habsburg family, sits just six kilometers from the villages of Alcsútdoboz and Felcsút, where Orbán spent his formative years. Over the last five years, the estate has undergone extensive redevelopment, transforming from a model farm into a lavish complex. According to The Associated Press, the property now boasts two swimming pools, a grand dining hall, a library, underground tunnels, extensive living quarters, guest houses, and even enclosures for exotic animals such as zebras, antelope, and buffalo.
The estate’s transformation—and its rumored use by the Orbán family—has fueled suspicions that Hungary’s ruling elite are enriching themselves through state-sponsored projects. The protest on Saturday was organized by Ákos Hadházy, a former member of Orbán’s Fidesz party and now a prominent anti-corruption activist. Hadházy has made Hatvanpuszta the centerpiece of his campaign to expose what he calls the “lies of the people in power.” In his words, as reported by the AP, “It symbolizes several things, most notably the lies of the people in power. The prime minister said that this is only a half-finished farm, but anyone who is here can see with their own eyes that this is a luxurious mansion.”
Hadházy’s criticism doesn’t stop at the estate’s opulence. He alleges that Orbán’s father, the official owner of Hatvanpuszta, amassed his wealth in large part through a rock quarry located nearby. According to Hadházy, the quarry has supplied materials to major state-funded infrastructure projects—contracts that have often been awarded to companies owned by Orbán’s allies. “A lot of money flows to them, everything is given to an inner circle,” protester Éva Gábor told the AP. “I think it’s becoming clear to everyone what is going on in this country, and what (the government) claims is the complete opposite of what we see.”
The symbolism of Hatvanpuszta is not lost on Hungary’s opposition. Hadházy has taken to calling the estate the Orbán family’s “Versailles”—a reference to the extravagant palace built by French monarchs, and a pointed jab at what he sees as the prime minister’s detachment from ordinary Hungarians struggling with economic hardship. The estate’s redevelopment, documented through released photographs and building plans, has become a fixture in opposition rallies and social media campaigns. Hadházy has even organized what he calls “tours” or “safaris” to the estate, aiming to draw public attention to the ongoing construction and the menagerie of exotic animals kept on the grounds.
The timing of Saturday’s protest is no coincidence. Hungary is grappling with persistent inflation, high living costs, and a stagnating economy. As the country heads into elections scheduled for April 2026, economic frustrations are mounting, and the political landscape is shifting. According to The Associated Press, this upcoming vote is shaping up to be Prime Minister Orbán’s most competitive race since he first came to power in 2010. His main rival, Péter Magyar—a former government insider turned critic—has put issues like poor health care, low wages, and high living costs at the center of his campaign, while also spotlighting what he describes as widespread corruption tied to Orbán and his party.
For Orbán and his supporters, the accusations swirling around Hatvanpuszta are nothing more than political theater. The prime minister has repeatedly denied that the estate is a luxury retreat for himself or his family, dismissing it as a “half-finished farm.” When pressed by journalists about the property, Orbán has consistently referred questions to his father, the official owner, sidestepping direct engagement with the controversy. This strategy, however, has done little to quell public curiosity or opposition outrage.
The estate itself remains shrouded in secrecy, with high fences and dark screens obscuring much of the lavish grounds from prying eyes. On Saturday, police and private security guarded the entrance as protesters waited their turn to climb ladders for a fleeting glimpse inside. The spectacle underscored the growing divide between Hungary’s political elite and ordinary citizens, many of whom are feeling the pinch of economic stagnation and rising prices.
For activists like Hadházy, the fight is about more than just one estate. It’s about what Hatvanpuszta represents—a system that, in their view, rewards loyalty to those in power while leaving the rest of the country behind. “It’s becoming clear to everyone what is going on in this country,” said protester Éva Gábor, echoing a sentiment shared by many at the demonstration. The protest at Hatvanpuszta is just the latest in a series of public actions aimed at holding Hungary’s leaders accountable, and with elections on the horizon, the pressure is unlikely to let up.
As Hungary braces for a pivotal election in April 2026, the controversy over Hatvanpuszta is sure to remain a flashpoint. Whether it will tip the scales in one of the most competitive races in years remains to be seen. For now, the estate stands as both a literal and figurative fortress—one that opposition activists are determined to breach, if not in bricks and mortar, then in the court of public opinion.
