In an era defined by conflict and accountability, Viktor Orbán has chosen his side—and it is not with the West.
Hungary’s decision to withdraw from the International Criminal Court (ICC), announced during a state visit by Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, represents not only a betrayal of European values but a direct affront to the principle that no leader is above the law.
The timing and symbolism are impossible to ignore. Netanyahu—accused by the ICC of war crimes in Gaza—was warmly received in Budapest just days after the court’s chief prosecutor announced a warrant for his arrest. Orbán used the occasion not to express concern or caution, but to declare that Hungary would leave the global tribunal altogether.
It was a moment of high theatre and low politics: a European leader hosting a man indicted by the world’s most important court for crimes against civilians, and then severing ties with that very court in a show of solidarity. Orbán made clear that Hungary would not participate in what he called the “politicisation of justice”—echoing Kremlin and Likud talking points with eerie synchronicity.
Netanyahu, for his part, enjoys deep and enduring support from key Western capitals, despite the ICC’s charges. Washington, London and Berlin have all expressed scepticism or outright condemnation of the warrants issued for Israeli leaders, citing Israel’s democratic credentials and right to self-defence. But there is a critical difference: none of those governments are withdrawing from the court. None are offering safe haven to the accused.
Only Orbán has gone that far.
Hungary’s exit from the ICC comes as the court also seeks the arrest of Russian President Vladimir Putin over war crimes committed in Ukraine, including the forced deportation of children. Under the Rome Statute, Hungary would have been obligated to arrest him if he entered the country. Now, that responsibility no longer exists. Orbán has removed a major obstacle to playing host to two of the most powerful men currently wanted by the ICC.
The move has provoked outrage across the European Union. “This is not principled dissent—this is calculated sabotage,” said one senior EU diplomat. “Orbán is aligning himself with the world’s most controversial leaders and tearing up the international rulebook to do it.”
It is the latest in a long line of provocations. Since Russia’s invasion of Ukraine in 2022, Orbán has blocked or delayed EU sanctions, refused to send military aid to Kyiv, and repeatedly voiced opposition to isolating Moscow economically. His language is couched in sovereignty, but his actions suggest servility—to Moscow and increasingly, to autocratic power more broadly.
Hosting Netanyahu against the backdrop of the ICC’s allegations signals something more than mere foreign policy divergence. It is the construction of an alternative moral order—one in which powerful men, so long as they are politically useful, can escape accountability. And Hungary, under Orbán’s stewardship, is willing to be their refuge.
There is also a cynical calculation at play. By aligning with Netanyahu, Orbán is likely hoping to curry favour with conservative and pro-Israel voices in Washington, where the Israeli prime minister still commands significant sympathy across both major parties. In doing so, Orbán seeks to inoculate himself against criticism from the transatlantic establishment even as he drives a wedge through the heart of the EU’s legal and moral consensus.
But the cost of this gamble could be high. With Hungary now openly defying a core institution of international justice, pressure is mounting within the EU to take action. MEPs from multiple parties are calling for the suspension of Hungarian voting rights in the Council and a freeze on cohesion funds, citing Article 7 procedures.
More importantly, Hungary’s retreat undermines the very notion that Europe speaks with one voice on international law. If Orbán’s Hungary is allowed to tear up its treaty obligations without consequence, what does that say to the rest of the world?
The ICC has always been a fragile construct—limited in its power, ambitious in its ideals. Its authority relies not just on enforcement but on belief. Belief that war crimes must be punished. That justice cannot be dodged by political manoeuvring or diplomatic immunity.
Orbán has trampled on that belief. In doing so, he has not only aligned himself with the accused, but positioned Hungary as a sanctuary for the indicted.
It is no longer sufficient to describe Orbán as a rebel within the EU. He is now something more dangerous: an agent of impunity in a time of war.
Main Image: Valery Sharifulin, TASS, via kremlin.ru
