Danube Dispatches — The Capital Question

The “Diplomat’s Notebook” No. 2

Nicholas Jeffery | WBN News – Global | February 17, 2026 Subscribe to WBN News

Hungary is not arguing with Brussels… It is arguing with Budapest.

As Hungary moves towards the general election, the political temperature rises on both sides, and it will only intensify.

From my standpoint, I perceive that there are governments that govern countries. And there are governments that govern countries against their capitals. Hungary, and the ruling party, increasingly belong to the second category.

From my apartment window, the city looks as it always has: trams sigh across bridges, students sit in cafés and argue about philosophy — where once they argued about revolution.

Budapest is not poor. It is opulent in theory and intellect, but in politics and at a municipal level it is insolvent, struggling to keep its head above the water that flows through it. Budapest’s budget is held together by something between accounting and prayer, but it is being purposely strangled by greater pressure than most capital cities around the world, because of top-down pressure.

The courts occasionally agree, the treasury occasionally ignores them, and the asphalt occasionally disappears. Streetlights dim. Potholes deepen.

Meanwhile, several hours west of here, zebras reportedly graze on manicured grass at a private estate — a zoological metaphor so perfect it feels almost commissioned.

Hungary appears to have rediscovered a medieval principle: the Crown and the City are separate fiscal species.

The Economics of Irritation

Budapest produces roughly 36–37% of Hungary’s GDP while containing less than one-fifth of its population. Include the surrounding metropolitan region and the contribution approaches half the national economy.

In other words, Hungary’s economy is not national. It is metropolitan, with rural scenery.

This arrangement works beautifully — until politics intervenes.

The central government levies what is politely called a “solidarity contribution,” a tax whose solidarity appears directional. The city contests it. Courts sometimes side with the city. Then the national government continues to transfer it anyway.

Moody’s, a credit-rating agency not normally accused of urban liberal bias, downgraded the capital’s creditworthiness, citing precisely this fiscal quarrel and the rising levy, which absorbs over one-fifth of municipal revenue.

Empires once besieged cities with cannons; modern states besiege them with cash-flow and timing.

As Hungary runs up to the election, the government funds the gargantuan national poster campaign — on seemingly every fourth location — slandering the opposition thesis. The costs for the campaign are coming out of the state budget, not the ruling party’s campaign funds. And the streetlights dim again.

Why Capitals Misbehave

Capitals develop personalities.

Budapest votes differently from the countryside — every capital does — speaks differently, travels differently, and most dangerously compares internationally. A provincial voter compares with neighbours; a capital voter compares with Vienna, Prague, and occasionally Barcelona after two glasses of wine.

This produces not merely political disagreement but a narrative of competition.

The government claims to represent the nation.
The capital claims to represent the future.

Both are sincere. Neither forgives the other.

But as a resident where I pay my tax, my car’s shock absorbers suffer accordingly — because of the potholes, big enough to hide zebras in.

The Florentine Precedent

This is not a new idea, nor solely a Central and Eastern European one. It is Renaissance.

In fifteenth-century Italy, Milan ruled territory; Florence ruled money. The Medici understood a simple law of power: whoever finances the state eventually negotiates with it as an equal.

Italian princes spent decades trying to discipline the cities that generated the wealth funding their armies. The result was always the same:

Weaken the city, and you weaken the treasury.
Humiliate the merchants, and you finance your enemies.

Florence, Venice, Genoa — every attempt to subordinate the economic metropolis produced a temporary political victory and long-term national decline.

History’s accounting department never closes its books.

The Political Psychology of Redistribution

Fiscal transfers from rich regions to poorer ones are normal in modern states. What is unusual is when redistribution becomes rhetorical.

Budapest is no longer merely taxed; it is narratively “othered,” portrayed less as a capital than as a rival tribe.

Once a government speaks of its largest economic engine as an adversary, policy stops being economic and becomes anthropological.

You can redistribute wealth.
You cannot redistribute legitimacy.

Residents of the capital hear: you are productive but not representative.
The provinces hear: you are authentic, but subsidised.

The National Consequence

When a capital deteriorates slowly, the country declines invisibly.

Investors do not read party manifestos. They read street lighting, transport maintenance, and municipal balance sheets.

A pothole is not a local issue. It is a sovereign-risk indicator — the Big Mac Index in asphalt. Although the potholes in Filler Utca have just been filled, at least just outside the British Ambassador’s residency.

Budapest is the interface through which Hungary meets the global economy. If that interface becomes financially unstable, the state does not discipline the city; it discounts itself.

Renaissance Italy learned this painfully: fragmentation did not impoverish Florence first; it impoverished Italy.

Modern Hungary risks the arithmetic in reverse: centralisation that weakens the centre of growth weakens the entire system.

The question is philosophical: Is the country a cultural community with an economy, or an economy with a culture?

Successful states quietly decide it is both and stop arguing with their largest taxpayer.

A country that demonstrates internal trust exports external stability. In a world defined by geopolitical tension, predictability is a competitive advantage.

A golden city in a conflicted era is not just a symbol; it is an economic instrument.

Budapest does not need victory over the state, nor the state over the city. It needs choreography.

Because when the government stops trying to win the argument, they start attracting the future.

A capital is not a province that has grown large.
It is the organism that keeps the nation alive.

You may tax the heart.
But governing requires it to keep beating.

The election will be won by someone; Hungary will remain — interpreted, debated, but ultimately itself.

I welcome your reflections and look out for the next instalment:

Danube Dispatches No. 3: “Why football stadiums matter more than parliament in Hungarian politics.”

Thank you,
Nicholas

By Ambassador Dr. Nicholas Jeffery
Nicholas Jeffery LinkedIn: http://linkedin.com/in/nicholas-jeffery

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