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Immer häufiger tritt im Kampf gegen Rechtsextremismus ein Instrument aus dem Schattendasein hervor: das Vereinsverbot, ob zuletzt erfolgreich gegen die „Artgemeinschaft“ oder gescheitert gegen Hammerskins und Compact. In einem Landtagswahljahr, in dem man bei hohen AfD-Zustimmungswerten auch Schlüsselübergaben an AfD-Innenminister keineswegs mehr ausschließen kann, gibt dies aber auch der Kehrseite der Vereinsverbote neue Aktualität: Einem autoritär-populistischen Innenminister könnten Vereinsverbote als potentes Repressionswerkzeug gegen unliebsame Strukturen dienen. Denn sie kombinieren einen weiten Tatbestand mit freigiebigen Ermittlungsmöglichkeiten und weitreichenden Rechtsfolgen. Weit von den rechtsstaatlichen Vorkehrungen eines Parteiverbotsverfahrens entfernt, laufen im Vereinsverbot schlagkräftige Aspekte von Straf- und Verfassungsschutzrecht zusammen – verpackt im Mantel eines einfachen Verwaltungsverfahrens.

Auch Landesministerien dürfen verbieten

Das Vereinsverbot (Art. 9 Abs. 2 GG) ist nach dem Bundesverfassungsgericht zusammen mit der Grundrechtsverwirkung (Art. 18 GG) und dem Parteiverbot (Art. 21 Abs. 2 GG) besonderer Ausdruck der wehrhaften Demokratie des Grundgesetzes. Demokratiegefährdenden Strukturen soll der Staat früh das Handwerk legen können. Der Anwendungsbereich des Vereinsverbots beschränkt sich nicht auf eingetragene Vereine, sondern erstreckt sich auf „jede Vereinigung, zu der sich eine Mehrheit natürlicher oder juristischer Personen für längere Zeit zu einem gemeinsamen Zweck freiwillig zusammengeschlossen und einer organisierten Willensbildung unterworfen hat“ (§ 2 Abs. 1 Vereinsgesetz).

Die drei Verbotsgründe des § 3 Abs. 1 Vereinsgesetz ergeben sich schon aus dem Grundgesetz (Art. 9 Abs. 2 GG). Dabei stellt erst die einfachgesetzliche Regelung klar, dass die Verbotserklärung entgegen dem grundrechtlichen Wortlaut („sind verboten“) konstitutiv wirkt. Zuständig ist das Bundesinnenministerium immer dann, wenn sich die Organisation oder Tätigkeit des Vereins oder Teilvereins über das Gebiet eines Landes hinaus erstreckt. Das Bundesinnenministerium hat bislang 49 Vereinsverbote erlassen.

Daneben kann aber auch das zuständige Landesministerium, in der Regel das Innenministerium, Vereinsverbote erlassen. Dies passiert bereits regelmäßig (vgl. Baudewin, NVwZ 2021, 1021). Die Zuständigkeit erstreckt sich auf Vereine, deren erkennbare Organisation und Tätigkeit sich auf das Gebiet eines Landes beschränkt (§ 3 Abs. 2 S. 1 Nr. 1 Vereinsgesetz), oder auf Teilvereine von bundesweit tätigen Vereinen, für deren Gesamtverbot das Bundesinnenministerium (BMI) zuständig wäre (§ 3 Abs. 2 S. 2 Vereinsgesetz). Im letzteren Fall muss das Landesministerium das Benehmen mit dem BMI herstellen, womit – anders als bei einem Einvernehmen – nur die Pflicht zur Anhörung gemeint ist.

Für eine autoritär-populistische Landesregierung wäre das Innenministerium einer der wichtigsten Posten: Der Innenminister verantwortet Polizei und Verfassungsschutz mitsamt bedeutenden personellen Entscheidungen. Er hat die Kommunalaufsicht inne und wacht über das Versammlungs- und Waffenrecht. Nicht zuletzt verantwortet er ausländerrechtliche Angelegenheiten. Das Vereinsverbot ergänzt also ein ohnehin schon großes administratives Instrumentarium (zu dessen allgemeinen Missbrauchsspielräumen bereits hier). Sollte es ein Innenminister ernst damit meinen, politische Gegner strategisch kleinzukriegen und in ihrer Arbeit zu stören, könnte das Vereinsrecht sogar zum Instrument der Wahl werden – und die Beobachtung durch den Verfassungsschutz ebenso wie das staatsanwaltlich geführte Ermittlungsverfahren wegen Bildung einer kriminellen Vereinigung ergänzen.

Strenge Folgen des Vereinsverbots

Schon die direkten Rechtsfolgen des Vereinsverbots sind schlagkräftig. Mit einem Vereinsverbot sind zugleich Ersatzorganisationen verboten. Das Ministerium beschlagnahmt das Vermögen und zieht es ein, der Verein wird abgewickelt. Er kann seine Räume, Vereinsmaterialien, Konten und Websites nicht mehr nutzen. Kurdische Gruppen kennen die Reichweite dieser Auswirkungen.

Die Rechtsfolgen erstrecken sich aber über die konkrete Vereinsarbeit hinaus. Das Ministerium kann in der Verbotsverfügung Kennzeichen des verbotenen Vereins festlegen, was nach § 86a Abs. 2 StGB unter anderem Fahnen, Abzeichen, Parolen und Grußformeln beinhaltet. Die Verbreitung oder öffentliche Verwendung solcher Kennzeichen ebenso wie die Herstellung oder Bevorratung entsprechender Inhalte ist nach § 86a Abs. 1 StGB strafbar.

Formell ist die Festlegung nur deklaratorisch: Strafgerichte bewerten eigenständig, ob es sich wirklich um ein Kennzeichen verbotener Organisationen handelt. Und doch hat es schon jetzt weitreichende praktische Auswirkungen, wenn ein Innenministerium Kennzeichen festlegt: Im November 2023 umfasste das Betätigungsverbot gegen die Hamas gleichzeitig den Slogan „from the river to the sea“ als Kennzeichen der Terrororganisation. Daran schließen sich Verfahren gegen Personen an, die diesen sehr verbreiteten Slogan auf Demonstrationen verwenden. Wie etwa im Fall des LG Berlin ging es dabei nicht um die Frage, ob der Spruch antisemitisch und damit volksverhetzend ist. Vielmehr führt das Hamas-Verbot dazu, dass es jetzt primär um die Kennzeichen-Eigenschaft des Slogans geht. Dabei ist nach Ansicht des BGH und BVerfG unschädlich, dass „das Kennzeichen auch unverfängliche Verwendung in anderem Zusammenhang findet“. Eine allgemeine Protestbewegung muss also hoffen, dass nicht auch eine verbotene Gruppe ihren Spruch kopiert, sondern bei ihren eigenen Parolen bleibt – sonst droht, dass ihn am Ende niemand mehr verwenden darf.

Weiter in der Kette wirkt sich das Verbot auch auf Versammlungen aus: Nimmt die Versammlungsbehörde an, dass Demonstrierende den Slogan rufen oder eine entsprechende Flagge mitführen, kommen wegen drohender Straftaten wie im Fall des VG Bremen Auflagen oder gar Verbote in Betracht. Es bleibt abzuwarten, ob diese mit Blick auf die Meinungs- und Versammlungsfreiheit extrem restriktive Rechtsprechung Bestand haben wird. Doch die Strafverfolgung greift nicht nur tief in eine genuin politische Grundrechtsausübung ein, sondern erweitert auch das Missbrauchspotenzial des Vereinsverbots. Denn durch die direkte Verknüpfung gibt ein extensiv ausgelegter Straftatbestand des § 86a StGB dem Vereinsverbot jedenfalls eine Reichweite, die sich weit über die organisatorische Zerschlagung auf ganze Protestbewegungen auswirkt.

Schleusen auf für die Verfolgung

Die Missbrauchsanfälligkeit geht nicht allein auf die weitreichenden Rechtsfolgen zurück: Schon der Tatbestand ist ähnlich dem Verfassungsschutzrecht weit gefasst, zudem gibt das Vereinsgesetz dem Ministerium schon zur Ermittlung weitreichende Befugnisse an die Hand. Während das Vereinsverbot als „kleines Parteiverbot“ (Groh) seine Funktion eigentlich im „präventiven Verfassungsschutz“ einnehmen soll, kann es schnell zu einem Instrument werden, das einer autoritär auftretenden Regierung die notwendige Beinfreiheit gibt, um unliebsame Strukturen zu unterdrücken.

Verbieten kann man einen Verein, wenn seine Zwecke oder seine Tätigkeit den Strafgesetzen zuwiderlaufen oder er sich gegen die verfassungsmäßige Ordnung oder den Gedanken der Völkerverständigung richtet. Die Verbotsgründe des Art. 9 Abs. 2 GG und § 3 Abs. 1 Vereinsgesetz gehen deutlich über die des Parteiverbots hinaus (nochmal Groh). Abgesehen von der Frühprävention von Straftaten weisen sie eine große Nähe zu den Gründen für eine Beobachtung durch den Verfassungsschutz (§ 3 Abs. 1 Nr. 1 und 4 BVerfSchG) auf: § 3 Abs. 1 Vereinsgesetz verlangt, dass sich der Verein „gegen die verfassungsmäßige Ordnung oder den Gedanken der Völkerverständigung richtet“. Das Vereinsverbot baut an diesem Punkt unmittelbar auf der Beobachtung durch den Verfassungsschutz auf (dazu BVerfGE 169, 130).

Über den Maßstab des Verfassungsschutzes geht das Vereinsgesetz aber noch hinaus: Nach § 14 Vereinsgesetz kann das Ministerium sogenannte Ausländervereine, deren Mitglieder oder Leiter sämtlich oder überwiegend Ausländer sind, unter erweiterten Gründen verbieten. Dazu gehört insbesondere, dass sie die politische Willensbildung der BRD oder das „friedliche Zusammenleben von Deutschen und Ausländern“ beeinträchtigen oder nur gefährden. Gleiches gilt generalklauselartig für „sonstige erhebliche Interessen der Bundesrepublik Deutschland“. Gegen diese Ausländervereine zeigt der Staat besonders spitze Zähne, ohne viel Wert auf das rechtsstaatliche Bestimmtheitsgebot zu legen. Die jüngsten Pläne der Bundesregierung für besondere Meldepflichten zeigen, dass Ausländervereine sich auch schon jetzt zunehmend auf eine Sonderbehandlung im Stile autoritärer Playbooks (siehe etwa Russland, Georgien und Ungarn) einstellen müssen.

Ermitteln einfach gemacht

Weitreichende Rechtsfolgen, essenzielles Instrument der wehrhaften Demokratie, tatbestandlich weit und früh ansetzend – bei dieser Mischung ließe sich ein besonders verantwortungsvolles Verfahren erwarten. Das Parteiverbotsverfahren weist das Grundgesetz gleich den obersten Verfassungsorganen des Bundes zu, einschließlich einer konstitutiven Entscheidung durch das Bundesverfassungsgericht. Das Vereinsverbot hat der Gesetzgeber dagegen dem Innenminister allein in die Hände gelegt. Gerichte oder überhaupt eine andere Instanz kommen gegebenenfalls erst dann zum Zuge, wenn der Verein schon verboten ist.

Ein Verbotsverfahren beginnt dabei – sei es gegen Ausländervereine oder andere – mit Ermittlungen. Für diese übergibt das Vereinsgesetz der Verbotsbehörde – also dem Innenministerium – in etwa die Rolle der Staatsanwaltschaft. Für das Strafverfahren hat der Verfassungsgerichtshof NRW nahegelegt, dass Staatsanwaltschaft und operativ ermittelnde Polizei schon aus rechtsstaatlichen Gesichtspunkten institutionell getrennt sein sollten: eine Gewaltenteilung auch innerhalb der Ermittlungsbehörden, um „Interessenkonflikten“ entgegenzuwirken. Für das rein administrativ ausgestaltete Vereinsverbot verzichtet der Gesetzgeber – insoweit folgerichtig – auf diese Differenzierung ebenso wie auf eine Anklage, einen Richtervorbehalt oder die Beteiligung des Justizministeriums.

Nach § 4 Abs. 1 Vereinsgesetz kann die Verbotsbehörde für ihre Ermittlungen die Hilfe der für die Wahrung der öffentlichen Sicherheit und Ordnung zuständigen Behörden oder Dienststellen in Anspruch nehmen. In der Praxis führen BKA oder LKA die Ermittlungen im Wesentlichen. Häufig ermitteln die Behörden ohne offene Ermittlungsmaßnahmen und überraschen dann, indem sie auf eine Anhörung i.S.d. § 28 Abs. 1 VwVfG verzichten und Verbot und öffentlichkeitswirksame Razzia verbinden. Sie können aber auch schon früher zugreifen: Ermitteln können sie bereits dann, wenn ein Anfangsverdacht besteht, dass die weit gefassten Verbotsgründe vorliegen. Anträge auf richterliche Zeugenvernehmung, Beschlagnahmen von Beweismitteln oder Durchsuchungen stellen das BKA, LKA oder Innenministerium direkt beim Verwaltungsgericht (§ 4 Abs. 2 Vereinsgesetz), das immerhin hier beteiligt wird. Schon hier – also weit vor einem ausgesprochenen Verbot – erweitern sich beobachtende Verfassungsschutzkompetenzen aber um handfeste Eingriffsmöglichkeiten, ohne dass es einen Bezug zu Straftaten braucht.

Verlockender Aktionismus

Sollte eine Regierung das Vereinsverbot zu instrumentalisieren versuchen, könnten die Gerichte einschreiten. Das Bundesverfassungsgericht betont, dass die Verbotsgründe eng auszulegen sind, und die neueren Entscheidungen des Bundesverwaltungsgerichts unterstreichen, dass Leipzig die Verbote jedenfalls nicht leichtfertig durchwinkt. Die Justiz ist ein entscheidendes, wenn nicht das Element der demokratischen Gewaltenteilung, um ausuferndes Regierungshandeln aufzuhalten. Doch auch hier könnten gewillte Regierungen mit dem Vereinsverbotsverfahren Schwachstellen ausnutzen, denen sich die Justiz in solchen Szenarien besonders ausgesetzt sieht: fehlende Reaktionsschnelligkeit und fehlender Justizzugang.

Ein Innenminister könnte ohne Weiteres auch auf die US-amerikanische Strategie des „move fast and break things“ setzen und das kalkulierte Risiko, vermutlich erst Jahre später gerichtlich eingehegt zu werden, in Kauf nehmen. In den USA hat Donald Trump per Executive Order die Antifa als Terrororganisation eingestuft, auch wenn einige die Folgen für überschaubar halten. Die AfD hat schon 2020 im Bundestag ein Antifa-Verbot gefordert und Trumps Vorstoß hat sie in ihrer Forderung nochmal bestärkt. Gleiches gilt für ausgemachte Feindbilder wie die Klimabewegung oder queere Strukturen. Zwar ist auch der weit gefasste Begriff der Vereinigung nicht grenzenlos: Ein Verbot „der Antifa“ oder „der LGBTIQ*-Community“, auch auf Landesebene in Sachsen-Anhalt oder Mecklenburg-Vorpommern, kommt schon mangels organisierter Willensbildung von vornherein nicht rechtmäßig in Betracht. Das muss aber einen Innenminister, der sich von der Pflicht zu rechtmäßigem Handeln nicht gebunden fühlt, weder von Ermittlungen noch vom Erlass eines Verbots abhalten. Gerade wenn gar keine organisierte Struktur betroffen ist, muss das Verbot zudem erstmal bei den Gerichten landen. Für den Verein, der keiner ist, muss sich eine Vertreter:in finden, die dazu noch eine mögliche Strafverfolgung nach § 129 StGB nicht scheut. Und eine Klagebefugnis des einzelnen Mitglieds lehnt das Bundesverwaltungsgericht in den meisten Fällen ab.

Während diese Fragen zu klären sind, läuft die Zeit zugunsten des autoritären Innenministers: Denn der ordnet in der Regel nach § 80 Abs. 2 Satz 1 Nr. 4 VwGO die sofortige Vollziehung des Verbots an, mit der Folge, dass eine Klage keine aufschiebende Wirkung hat. Das Bundesverfassungsgericht hat sogar bestätigt, dass die Strafbarkeit des § 20 Vereinsgesetz schon greift, sobald das Verbot vollziehbar ist, nicht erst, wenn es unanfechtbar wird. Rechtsschutz gegen einzelne Vollzugsmaßnahmen hat nach § 6 Vereinsgesetz erstmal ebenfalls keine aufschiebende Wirkung, und das Verfahren ist bis zur Entscheidung über das Verbot als solches auszusetzen. Im Hammerskins-Fall hat Letzteres über zwei Jahre gedauert. Bis dahin entfaltet das Verbot erstmal Wirkung.

Ausblick

Fristen Vereinsverbote zumindest auf Landesebene bisher ein Schattendasein, könnte ein autoritär-populistischer Landesinnenminister in den Genuss eines gefährlich weit gefassten Repressionswerkzeugs kommen. Gegen abstrakt gefasste Vereinsverbote muss sich erstmal – und schnell – eine Klägerin finden. Die Gerichte tun gut daran, in Zukunft enge Linien für das Vereinsverbot aufzuzeigen, auch wenn das Bundesverwaltungsgericht dies bisher eher in den Details als in den Grundsätzen gezeigt hat. Auf einen peinlich unprofessionellen Umgang mit Vereinsverboten sollte man bei einem autoritär regierten Innenministerium jedenfalls nicht hoffen. Der Gesetzgeber könnte nachschärfen: beim übermäßig weiten Tatbestand, dem im Innenministerium zentrierten Verbotsverfahren ohne Richtervorbehalt, dem erschwerten Rechtsschutz und den direkten Linien ins Strafgesetzbuch. In der jetzigen Ausgestaltung könnte das Vereinsverbot in den falschen Händen statt der Wehrfähigkeit des demokratischen Rechtsstaats vielmehr die Wehrlosigkeit der Betroffenen sicherstellen.

The post Vereinnahmtes Vereinsgesetz appeared first on Verfassungsblog.

If Hungary under the government of Péter Magyar and the TISZA party is to learn from the uneven, protracted, yet ongoing and open-ended democratic repair pursued under the coalition government of Donald Tusk in Poland since December 2023, it is that a comprehensive and swift reform of the media ecosystem is crucial.

A meaningful media system reform does not simply entail taking control of public service media but rather transforming the broader ecosystem to enhance media freedom and pluralism while ensuring the independence of the state institutions that are essential to safeguarding them. The reform should lead to fulfilling the obligations arising from the European Union media law, notably the European Media Freedom Act (EMFA), and implement the Court of Justice’s case law. Soft law standards developed by the Council of Europe also provide specific guidelines for such reform.

Crucially, the media reform should not only be lawful but also perceived as legitimate; to this end, it is important that changes are made in good faith, take effect as swiftly as possible, are properly and publicly reasoned, and are proportionate to the aim pursued. The reform should aim to make state institutions, such as media regulators and public service media, more independent and pluralistic. It should also bring to an end the model of illiberal capitalism and dismantle the media capture model. Instead, the reform should introduce genuine competition into the internal market for media services, while at the same time contributing to the preservation of the values enshrined in Article 2 TEU, including through improvements in media freedom and pluralism.

Why Media Reform Is a Priority in Transition 2.0

After democratic backsliding, comprehensive reform of the media ecosystem is not only a sectoral policy exercise but an essential component of Transition 2.0. A key issue in debates on post-backsliding democratic reform concerns the temporality and sequencing of measures across different institutions. Tom Gerald Daly, in his theory of comparative constitutional repair, argues that a reformist government must first clearly identify the areas requiring repair, decide when reforms should be undertaken, and establish priorities among them, determine what is feasible, and act in a proportionate way. Tom Ginsburg and Aziz Huq, in their theory of ‘democratic front-sliding’, also emphasise the importance of sequencing. They argue that the first step should be to preserve ‘epistemic institutions’, which generate neutral information and can counter disinformation about the reform process.

Given the specific context of post-backsliding settings, in which ‘autocratic enclaves’ operate within state institutions and seek to delegitimise, obstruct, or delay the reforms pursued by a new government, ensuring the independence of such knowledge-producing institutions becomes particularly important. Democratic backsliding characteristically produces an ‘illiberal public sphere’. This emerges through the politicisation of media regulatory bodies, the partisan capture of public service media and their transformation into instruments of partisan propaganda, media capture – meaning buyouts of private media by government proxies –, the discriminatory allocation of public funds to pro-government outlets, and the creation of various legal, administrative, and financial obstacles for independent private media.

A paradigmatic illiberal media sphere, or even ‘illiberal informational autocracy’, was created in Hungary under Fidesz between 2010 and 2026. In its “2026 World Press Freedom Index”, Reporters Without Borders ranked Hungary 74^th out of 180 countries; within the EU, only Cyprus (80^th) and Greece (86^th) performed worse.

Recent EU media legislation, in particular the EMFA, has effectively rendered such illiberal media policies unlawful under EU law and imposed new obligations on Member States to review their legal frameworks and ensure compliance.

Reforming the media ecosystem is of central importance in Transition 2.0, because post-backsliding societies often experience very high levels of affective polarisation. The previously governing party typically remains the largest political force in opposition and retains significant capacity to shape public debate and influence voters through networks and institutions established during democratic backsliding, including ‘captured’ public service media and private media outlets. Whoever prevails in the narrative surrounding the democratic repair may ultimately gain a decisive advantage in the next elections. This also applies to Hungary.

The Ambivalent Polish Lesson

The political and institutional conditions in Hungary following the 2026 parliamentary elections differ significantly from those in Poland after the 2023 elections. While the scale of the problem in Hungary appears greater, the institutional room for manoeuvre also seems considerably broader. In Hungary, TISZA enjoys a constitutional majority, which creates the possibility of enacting a new constitution, although there are important voices advocating swiftly passing targeted amendments instead. The new governing majority will also be able to enact legislative changes.

By contrast, in Poland’s system, formally parliamentary in nature, yet granting the President a strong veto power and significant capacity to obstruct the government, cohabitation under conditions of deep political polarisation means that the government experiences legislative paralysis, as crucial laws adopted by parliament may ultimately not enter into force. However, a major weakness of the Polish Transition 2.0, irrespective of the presidential veto power, has been the government’s failure to prepare and adopt legislation swiftly. This has also weakened the legitimacy of the reformist aims of the Polish government.

Ending propaganda in public service media had been one of the central promises of the parties forming the current Polish government. Immediately after it was formed in December 2023, the government moved to take control of public media, promising to restore their independence and impartiality. The Minister of Culture, acting as the sole proprietor of the state-owned media companies, invoked the Commercial Companies Code and replaced the management boards of the public television broadcaster, public radio, and the state press agency. However, under the existing legal framework, the boards of public media entities should have been appointed by an independent media regulator. The previous government of the PiS (Prawo i Sprawiedliwość) party had removed these competences from the constitutionally established National Broadcasting Council (KRRiT) and transferred them to a newly created media regulator, the National Media Council (RMN). Both bodies had been staffed by individuals appointed by the PiS government, and they attempted to block the changes in the public media, as other autocratic enclaves did, notably the Constitutional Tribunal. Eventually the public service media companies were placed into liquidation, allowing management by liquidators; this arrangement continues, although no dissolution is intended. An unconventional solution, initially raising concerns as to its legality, was ultimately approved by the court registers.

The government’s approach to public service media, in the form inherited from the democratic backsliding era, initially triggered protests and a short-lived boycott of the ‘new’ public broadcaster by opposition politicians from the PiS party and affiliated circles. However, PiS politicians returned to public television ahead of the 2024 European Parliament elections. Many media workers in public service media, who had been clearly aligned with the previous government and are now supportive of the opposition PiS, moved to rapidly expanding commercial, right-leaning news outlets, illustrating how years of illiberal media policy had cultivated audience preferences for particular types of political content.

In Poland’s highly polarised society, trust in public service media remains divided. Although positive assessments of public television increased in 2024, reaching 42 per cent – its highest level since 2016 – it remains moderate; in 2014 it was at 84 per cent. Public media continue to be perceived through the lens of political polarisation and accusations of bias. Studies further indicate that trust in public television rose among supporters of the new government, while declining among PiS supporters.

The Polish case suggests that the credibility of Transition 2.0 depends on swift legislative action. Although media reform was presented as a priority, the draft media bill, intended to implement the EMFA and other EU media regulation, such as the Audiovisual Media Services Directive (AVMSD) and the Digital Services Act (DSA), was unveiled almost two years after the current government took office. After public consultation, it has yet to be scheduled for parliamentary consideration. The Minister of Culture has announced that this is expected to take place in the second half of this year. The bill carries a high risk of being vetoed by President Nawrocki, even though it aims to depoliticise the public media. In January, the President vetoed the act implementing the DSA in Poland.

The measures adopted by the current Polish government with respect to public service media contributed to further polarisation, yet they proved effective: the PiS-era propaganda in state media ended. However, some programmes broadcast today on TVP and TVP Info, the public news channel, have not become fully impartial, despite the new management’s earlier promises to that effect. Politicians from the governing party receive the largest share of airtime by far, and individual programmes are criticised for failing to scrutinise the government more robustly. It must be emphasised, however, that the situation is by no means comparable with the propaganda-driven era in 2015–2023. The performance of the regional branches of the public broadcaster, which comprise 16 stations, is assessed rather positively today. Particularly concerning, however, were recent reports from TVP3 Wrocław, where employees accused management of censoring material concerning the city’s mayor. Under the PiS government, some regional stations were misused to conduct hateful smear campaigns against opposition politicians. Such practices are no longer taking place today. Moreover, the Polish Press Agency now operates independently, and allegations of political bias have not been directed against it.

The Polish case also demonstrates that questions of accountability for past abuses remain important. In the media domain, in July 2025 the governing majority in the Sejm voted to bring Maciej Świrski, the chair of KRRiT elected in 2022 for a term expiring in 2028, before the State Tribunal. The motion concerned eleven charges, including unjustifiably delaying broadcasting licence proceedings and arbitrarily imposing fines on private broadcasters. Following the initiation of the proceedings, the KRRiT decided to remove him from the position of chair. On the question of accountability for past abuses, then-Minister of Justice Adam Bodnar established a commission composed of lawyers and researchers to investigate mechanisms of repression directed against civil society between 2015 and 2023. The commission published a report on abuses of power targeting independent media, including the use of SLAPP lawsuits. The parliament adopted a bill implementing the EU Anti-SLAPP Directive in Poland, although it remains unclear whether it will be signed by the President.

The current Polish government promised to dismantle the media capture legacy of the democratic backsliding era, meaning the acquisition of media outlets through political-party proxies. In Poland, this notably concerned the 2021 acquisition of the regional newspaper and online portal group Polska Press from Verlagsgruppe Passau for PLN 201 million (EUR 46.99 million) by PKN Orlen, the largest oil and gas company in Central and Eastern Europe. The Polska Press group includes 20 regional daily newspapers, local weeklies, and free press outlets. Following the change of government, the new management of PKN Orlen announced plans to restructure the company and eventually sell the media group after increasing its value, a position also supported by the Minister of State Assets, who oversees state-controlled companies such as PKN Orlen. Here, however, purely business considerations intersect with democratic concerns, particularly in the context of the parliamentary elections scheduled for 2027. The company’s financial performance is not the only issue at stake; it is also necessary to fulfil the promise of ending the negative practices associated with the previous government.

Despite media reform having progressed slowly and not all electoral promises having been fulfilled, Poland moved in 2026 to 21^st place globally in the Reporters Without Borders Press Freedom Index. The media market is dynamic, and commercial projects supportive of the current opposition have been developing successfully. However, the diversity and richness of the media landscape also distinguished Poland from Hungary during the period of democratic backsliding.

The Polish case provides the following preliminary lessons for democratic repair in other jurisdictions. First, extraordinary measures that breach the law, even if taken to pursue a higher constitutional goal, must remain exceptional and proportionate. In a context of deep political polarisation, such measures significantly weaken the legitimacy of the broader democratic-repair process. Second, to enhance the legitimacy of its reform, a comprehensive legislative reform package should be presented swiftly. The reform should strengthen the independence and impartiality of state institutions responsible for media freedom and pluralism, such as media regulators and public service media. Third, EU law provides robust standards for the direction of reform, and adapting the domestic legal framework to them is a legal obligation. Fourth, those managing public service media should ensure that they act, and are seen to act, as impartially as possible. Fifth, it is also necessary to swiftly dismantle the legacy of media capture exercised through proxies linked to the previous ruling party. Sixth, accountability for past abuses of power in the media sphere may be pursued through differentiated measures, such as political accountability mechanisms and criminal proceedings as well as independent commissions established to investigate past practices and produce public reports. Seventh, it is necessary to create a framework for the functioning of a competitive internal market for media services.

The Roadmap for Hungary

Péter Magyar’s government has an opportunity to complete Hungarian Transition 2.0 in the media sphere more effectively than Poland did. Such reform should be guided by the standards of EU media regulation, notably the EMFA.

The legal problems affecting Hungary’s media ecosystem have already been thoroughly identified and precisely diagnosed by EU institutions. In particular, the European Commission’s annual Rule of Law Reports have consistently recommended strengthening the functional independence of media regulatory bodies (Article 5 EMFA) and public service media (Article 7 EMFA and Article 30 AVMSD), increasing transparency and fairness in the allocation of state advertising (Article 25 EMFA), enhancing transparency of media ownership structures (Article 16 EMFA), expanding access to information under freedom of information legislation, and improving working conditions for journalists. These concerns are also reflected in ongoing EU infringement proceedings based on the EMFA and the Audiovisual Media Services Directive.

Under Fidesz governments, Hungary systematically rejected these assessments and the obligations stemming from EU law, including those introduced by the EMFA, which it challenged before the CJEU. The new government now has an opportunity to reverse this approach and guide its reforms accordingly. The specific legislative changes required to bring the Hungarian framework into compliance with EU standards have already been identified in detail. After years of democratic backsliding negatively affecting media freedom and pluralism, Hungary now has an opportunity to act in line with the requirements of Article 3 of the EMFA, which guarantees the rights of recipients of media services, both individuals and legal persons, and establishes conditions enabling them to access a plurality of editorially independent media content. The task is daunting, but by drawing on Poland’s experience, the Hungarian government is well placed to do better.

The work was supported by the National Science Centre, Poland, under the research project ‘The European Union media regulation and the protection of media freedom in Member States. The case of Member States experiencing the rule of law crisis’, 2024/52/C/HS5/00156 SONATINA 8.

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After the deadline that Prime Minister Péter Magyar set for the key constitutional actors to resign passed – including the President of the Republic, the Prosecutor General, and the Presidents of the Constitutional Court, the Supreme Court, and the National Judicial Office – he reiterated the government’s intention to remove them by a single constitutional amendment. They are all Orbán appointees; some of them assumed office through personalized legislation, and by their actions or inaction, they facilitated the entrenchment of the Orbán regime and the impunity of the oligarchs, cronies, and others connected to it, in both formal and informal ways. There are more than enough political, and in some cases even constitutional, arguments for their removal. As the apparent political intention is to proceed through constitutional amendment, two paradoxes must be reconciled. The anticipatory obstruction paradox, which must disable any future deadlocks even before these are carried out without knowing for sure that they would even occur; and the procedural self-entrenchment paradox of the constitutional reconstruction reforms, which must disable the function of the President in promulgating and sending a constitutional amendment to be published, effectively removing this function. While it is essential to overcome both of the said paradoxes, this goes only while acknowledging that these are in themselves constitutional wrongdoings that must be confronted rather than concealed, and thus subjecting them to the highest possible standards of public justification and deliberation.

The Anticipatory Obstruction Paradox

President Sulyok declared that he does not intend to be an obstacle to reconstruction but will enforce the rule of law and other constitutional requirements. He also explained that he has so far signed the bills promoted by the new government. However, given his inaction since entering office (2024) on politically and legally sensitive matters, this newly discovered commitment to democratic values and the constitutional role of the presidency is less than fully convincing. The same can be said of his petition to the Venice Commission, which he submitted after Péter Magyar publicly committed to his removal, at which point, however, neither the legal basis nor the specific mechanism of removal had been determined. His sudden reliance on the Venice Commission is particularly noteworthy given that Fidesz has routinely ignored its opinions and has repeatedly described it as politically biased and a Soros agent. With this move, he already seems to be slowing and stalling reconstruction efforts at the level of constitutional institutions.

In his X message, the President stated:

“The planned removal from office of the President and the heads of other independent constitutional organs may cause a constitutional crisis and constitute a threat to fundamental constitutional principles. The heightened attention to the events is evidenced by the fact that the Venice Commission has already expressed its intention to investigate the case under an accelerated procedure.”

While his earlier inaction can be politically criticized, this latter intervention, given the context of the Hungarian illiberal or hybrid state (2010-2026) and the promise of regime change that culminated in the electoral authorization on 12 April 2026, may also have constitutional significance.

Whether the President is genuinely concerned about constitutional crisis and constitutional principles is ultimately beside the point. Given his conduct since taking office, and the broader context of democratic, rule of law, and human rights deterioration in Hungary, the intervention is difficult to separate from its practical effect: delaying and potentially obstructing the reconstruction process. Should he and all the other office holders be concerned about these, they would have resigned. Seeking the advice of the Venice Commission is, in itself, a legitimate constitutional tool. The problem arises when that tool is used not to resolve constitutional uncertainty but primarily to delay democratically authorized constitutional change. In the present context, the request appears less as a search for constitutional guidance than as an attempt to create an additional veto point in the reconstruction process. At the very least, it raises suspicions of abuse of the institution and of the right to seek advice.

The façade, illiberal legality, autocratic legalism, however we choose to describe it, thus continues to operate against the electoral mandate for regime change and the political commitment to it. This request strengthens the otherwise weak constitutional justifications for the President’s removal (as I argued here), by prompting the parliamentary majority to await the Venice Commission’s opinion. Otherwise, it could be portrayed as disregarding important constitutional concerns and abusing its constitutional authorization. If one does not regard the petition itself as a sufficiently strong constitutional argument for removal, which can also be reasonably maintained, then one must wait until an actual obstruction occurs in the form of a political or constitutional veto. This would then make the constitutional justification stick, but it may already have delayed or rendered reconstruction ineffective. This is an anticipatory obstruction paradox. Preventive removal therefore becomes a constitutionally defensible option, even if it remains difficult to justify fully in rule-of-law terms. Ironically, the President’s own conduct may continue to strengthen the constitutional case against him.

What would prevent the preventive removal? In the Hungarian constitutional system, the head of state can stall reforms by sending the adopted law back to parliament (political veto) or, if deemed unconstitutional, to the Constitutional Court (CC, constitutional veto). As the parliament enjoys a constitutional majority, it can override the veto. In ex ante constitutional review, the CC must decide within 30 days, or within 10 days when asked regarding a newly adopted law following a presidential constitutional veto. Constitutional amendments may only be challenged on procedural grounds; substantive review, based on both the wording of the constitution and the CC’s doctrine, is unavailable. If a constitutional amendment is found unconstitutional on procedural grounds, it must be reconsidered by Parliament.

Theoretically, nothing prevents the President from repeatedly exercising the constitutional veto. Nor does anything prevent the CC from engaging in a loop with the President, thereby preventing essential reforms – including constitutional amendments – from taking effect. We do not yet know how the CC would behave in such circumstances. What we do know is that the constitutional framework permits such a loop, and existing scholarship on how the CC served the government in the decade suggests this possibility cannot be dismissed as merely theoretical.

A similar, albeit weaker, anticipatory obstruction paradox is therefore present in relation to the CC. At the same time, as I argued, the constitutional justification for the removal of CC judges is stronger than in the case of the President.

The anticipatory obstruction paradox holds that, for a proper constitutional justification, we should wait until evidence emerges, but if we wait, the reconstruction reforms could become impossible. Constitutional actors are therefore confronted with a choice between competing constitutional wrongs: accepting the risk of constitutional deadlock and the failure of reconstruction or pursuing the preventive removal of key veto players and the reconstructive removal of other actors, especially the President of the Kúria, as a first step towards rebuilding the independence of the ordinary justice system (about this, see e.g., here and here).

This leads us to the procedural self-entrenchment paradox of constitutional amendments aimed at removing these constitutional actors.

The Procedural Self-Entrenchment Paradox

The procedural self-entrenchment paradox arises from the constitutional amendment process itself, which the TISZA government has reportedly chosen as the mechanism for removing key constitutional office holders. As noted above, besides Parliament, the principal actors in this process are the President and the Constitutional Court. The constitutional amendment will be directed precisely at removing these actors from office. Why would they agree to it? Had they accepted the logic and necessity of removal, they could have resigned by the 31 May 2026 deadline. They did not.

The paradox is straightforward. The constitutional amendment must be signed into law by a President whose own removal is among the amendment’s objectives. The President and the Constitutional Court may therefore become participants in a process designed to terminate their own mandates. The amendment can be sent back and forth between constitutional actors, preventing it from becoming law. Alternatively, the Constitutional Court, through an abusive constitutional interpretation intended to still serve Fidesz’s political agenda, could invoke the implied eternity clause of constitutional identity and annul it – but whether they would do so is now unknown. In either scenario, the constitutional amendment may fail to enter into force, the veto players remain in office, and the election of new office holders becomes impossible.

The question, then, is how this paradox can be overcome, assuming that the President insists on remaining in office, as the available evidence suggests. Any solution must address a fundamental difficulty: the President’s role in the lawmaking process, including constitutional amendment, is itself constitutionally entrenched. Under the Fundamental Law, any new method for adopting constitutional amendments must be established by a constitutional amendment. This is precisely where the procedural self-entrenchment paradox lies.

Impeachment or Extra-Constitutional Reconstruction

When political negotiation and voluntary resignation fail, two options remain. The first is the temporary suspension of President Sulyok through impeachment, an option Prime Minister Magyar has ruled out. The second is the establishment of an extra-constitutional reconstruction framework in which presidential promulgation is no longer a necessary condition for signing bills into law. Both would involve constitutional wrongs committed in order to overcome the procedural self-entrenchment paradox and allow constitutional renewal to proceed.

Impeachment was reportedly not chosen, which at first sight appears to be the correct decision. It would likely have amounted to a parliamentary coup, understood here as the deliberate misuse of a constitutional procedure for a purpose other than its intended purpose. It would be difficult to argue that President Sulyok (in office from 2024 onwards) has violated the Fundamental Law to a degree that meets the high accountability threshold attached to the office of the head of state. This remains true even if one considers his request for a Venice Commission opinion to be an abuse of power or attributes constitutional significance to it. Nevertheless, impeachment would have offered a straightforward way of overcoming the procedural self-entrenchment paradox. Once the impeachment procedure is initiated, the Speaker of Parliament assumes the functions of the head of state until the proceedings are concluded and could therefore sign the relevant constitutional amendments and legislation into law.

The Conditions of Extra-Constitutional Reconstruction

If the constitutional majority concludes that the procedural self-entrenchment paradox cannot be overcome within the existing constitutional framework, then any extra-constitutional reconstruction framework would have to satisfy at least the following conditions. It should be framed as a temporary reconstruction instrument, distinct from the constitutional framework ordinarily governing constitutional amendment and institutional change in constitutional democracies and in the Hungarian constitutional tradition. Such a framework should contain at least three elements. First, it should define itself as a temporary reconstruction device, adopted either as a supplement to the Fundamental Law or as a separate structural unit attached to it. Second, it should establish the procedure for its own adoption, including a justification for why presidential promulgation and publication are not treated as indispensable procedural requirements, grounded in the anticipatory obstruction paradox. Third, it should regulate the removal and replacement of affected office holders and establish the criteria and procedures for electing their successors.

These arrangements should themselves be temporary. This may require shortened terms of office until new appointment mechanisms can be established through an ordinary constitutional amendment process or in a future constitution. In the case of the President, the Speaker of Parliament could temporarily assume the functions of the office until a successor is elected through a negotiated process.

Given the refusal of these actors, especially the President, to resign, both options would amount to a form of popularly legitimized parliamentary coup: a workaround that can only be defended as a tragic and openly acknowledged constitutional wrong committed to avoid greater anti-constitutional harm. It could also be argued that either option would leave the constitutional supermajority in Parliament without effective political or constitutional checks. This objection is a serious one. That is precisely why any such measures would require the highest possible degree of public justification, transparency, and parliamentary deliberation. The weaker the constitutional basis of the chosen solution, the stronger the procedural safeguards and justificatory requirements must be. Both the underlying dilemma and the available options should therefore be openly debated and defended in Parliament and before the broader public. As this presupposes a longer process, the opinion of the Venice Commission could also be awaited and engaged with in depth when justifying whichever solution the parliamentary supermajority ultimately chooses.

Confronting Constitutional Wrongs

The less justified and less connected to rule-of-law principles the constitutional amendment of removal is, the greater the risk that constitutional reconstruction itself will be portrayed as authoritarian constitutional change. Avoiding this trap requires confronting, rather than concealing, the constitutional wrongs involved and subjecting them to the highest possible standards of public justification and deliberation. Overcoming the anticipatory obstruction paradox and the procedural self-entrenchment paradox is therefore essential not only for the success of reconstruction but also for its constitutional and democratic legitimacy. The best solution, for all, including the Hungarian people and all constitutional democracies that would pursue democratic and constitutional renewal, however, would still be for the affected constitutional office holders to take some responsibility and resign.

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