Many may not remember it, but Hungarian politicians were already fond of calling their opponents “worms” some 30 years before László Toroczkai’s latest infamous remark.
In Hungarian political discourse, it sometimes feels as though the same pattern keeps repeating itself. An opponent is no longer simply wrong, dishonest or misguided. Instead, they become a parasite, a rat, a bedbug, a stray dog — or, in the latest case, a worm.
In the most recent controversy, Toroczkai told Péter Magyar in Parliament not to “run away like a disgusting, cowardly worm”. But anyone who thinks Hungary has never seen anything like this before would be seriously mistaken.
Torgyán and the ‘pest control’
If there is one classic example in the history of Hungarian political insults, it is József Torgyán’s speech of 14 March 1996. The then leader of the Independent Smallholders’ Party was speaking at a rally held on the eve of the 15 March national holiday, attacking the government of Prime Minister Gyula Horn. Torgyán spoke of “pseudo-liberal, disgusting worms” and “vultures” that, in his view, had overrun the country.
The speech became so closely associated with Torgyán that it was later simply referred to as his “pest-control speech”. Even at the time, the reaction was divided. Some thought he had finally said out loud what others were afraid to say. For many others, however, the language was simply too much.
Either way, the recipe was already there three decades ago: turn a political opponent into a biological pest, and a political argument can quickly become a question of getting rid of the pest rather than defeating an opponent in debate.
Stray dogs, rats and bedbugs
The language of political name-calling did not disappear with the 1990s. During the 2006 election campaign, then Prime Minister Ferenc Gyurcsány also caused controversy with an animal comparison. In a speech in Veszprém, he said that stray dogs had to be caught and taken to a shelter. The opposition interpreted the remark as a comparison between stray animals and those who stood against his government.
Then, in 2019, came the infamous “rat” comment. During an interview on ATV, Socialist MP Ildikó Bangóné Borbély was asked why support for Fidesz was growing. Her answer was blunt: “There are many rats in Hungary.” The remark caused a nationwide political storm. Fidesz called for her resignation, and the comment quickly became one of the most notorious examples of animal-based political rhetoric in recent Hungarian politics.
Six years later, the rhetoric took another turn. On 15 March 2025, Viktor Orbán spoke of “bedbugs having survived the winter” and promised a “spring clean-up”. Many interpreted the reference to “bedbugs” as an attack on Péter Magyar, who had by then emerged as the government’s most prominent political challenger and had secretly recorded conversations involving his former wife. The words had changed, but the pattern had not.
And now there is the worm — again
In 2026, László Toroczkai added another chapter to the story. During a heated exchange in Parliament between Toroczkai and Péter Magyar, the Prime Minister accused the opposition leader of intervening at ministries on behalf of family-owned companies.
Toroczkai demanded evidence or an apology from Magyar, telling him not to run away “like a cowardly, disgusting worm”. And so the list continues.
With Torgyán, there was “pest control”. With Gyurcsány, there were stray dogs and a shelter. With Bangóné, there were rats. With Orbán, bedbugs had survived the winter and were waiting for a spring clean-up. And now, once again, there is the worm.
When political opponents become pests
Of course, political language has always been colourful. Politicians insult one another. Election campaigns are built around attacks. Sarcasm, mockery and deliberately provocative language are hardly new. The problem begins when political opponents are no longer treated as people with whom one disagrees, but as pests that need to be removed.
There is an important distinction here. Calling someone incompetent, dishonest or hypocritical may be unpleasant, but it still treats them as a political actor. Describing an opponent as a rat, bedbug or worm changes the nature of the argument. The suggestion is no longer simply that the other person is wrong or even harmful. It is that they themselves are something undesirable that needs to be eliminated.
That is a dangerous direction for political discourse. Hungary is hardly unique in this respect. Politicians and political movements around the world have used animal imagery to portray their opponents as dirty, dangerous or somehow less than human. Such language is powerful precisely because it reduces complicated political conflicts to something instinctive: get rid of the pest.
A long list of insults
The examples above are only the most memorable ones. Hungarian political discourse has produced countless other insults over the decades — some aimed at a person’s intelligence, others at their appearance, masculinity, femininity, morality or character.
Not all of these expressions are equally serious, of course. Politics without sharp disagreement would hardly be politics at all. But there is a difference between attacking an idea and attacking the person expressing it. And there is an even greater difference between insulting a political opponent and describing them as something that needs to be exterminated.
That distinction seems to be getting increasingly blurred. Perhaps that is the real lesson of the latest controversy. Political opponents will continue to disagree. Governments will continue to face criticism. Parliamentary debates will inevitably become heated, particularly in a country where political divisions have become so deep.
But there should still be a line. Because once political opponents become rats, bedbugs, stray dogs or worms, the argument is no longer simply about who is right. And perhaps that is precisely where the line should be drawn.
Interested in reading more about Hungarian politics? In this article, we look at the possibility of a potential merger between Fidesz and Mi Hazánk.
