Four new EU leaders reshape bloc's political balance as Orbán era ends

Four prime ministers walked into the European Council chambers in Brussels on Thursday carrying the weight of their nations' recent political upheavals. In the span of eight weeks, roughly 15 percent of the EU's 27 heads of government had changed, and with them came a fundamental reshuffling of how the bloc's most powerful decision-making body would operate. The timing was consequential. Leaders were preparing to fight over a €2 trillion budget, energy policy, and the continent's foreign affairs strategy. But beneath the formal agenda hung a quieter question: Who would fill the space left by Viktor Orbán?

Orbán had spent years as the EU's most reliable obstructionist, blocking decisions, delaying votes, and extracting concessions through sheer stubbornness. He had frustrated colleagues across the table and complicated nearly every major initiative the bloc attempted. Now he was gone, and diplomats were watching carefully to see where resistance would emerge in the Council's next chapter. "The biggest change with those four will be the one that's not there," one European diplomat told reporters, speaking on condition of anonymity.

Hungary's new prime minister, Péter Magyar, arrived as a stark contrast to his predecessor. Forty days into his tenure following a landslide election victory, Magyar had already unlocked billions of euros in EU funds that Orbán had left frozen for years. He had stepped aside on Ukraine, allowing Kyiv to launch its first phase of EU accession talks. A former diplomat and member of the European Parliament, Magyar knew Brussels well and carried none of Orbán's combative edge. Yet he was not abandoning the previous government's positions wholesale. On energy, he pledged to wean Hungary off Russian imports—but not until 2035, well beyond the EU's 2027 target. On migration, he planned to keep the border fence Orbán had erected in 2015 and opposed the bloc's migrant relocation quotas, aligning himself with Denmark's Mette Frederiksen and Poland's Donald Tusk. His first official trip as prime minister had taken him to Warsaw, a deliberate signal. He had also called for reviving and expanding the Visegrád 4 group of Central European countries. When Magyar walked into the Europa building, he would arrive with a fresh electoral mandate and repaired ties with Brussels—viewed as a more predictable partner than the man he replaced.

Bulgaria's Rumen Radev presented a different kind of challenge. A former president, he had ended years of domestic political deadlock by resigning in January, launching his own party, and sweeping to victory in the subsequent election. This would be his first European Council meeting as head of government, and his presence could fracture the EU's united front on Ukraine. Radev had argued that Kyiv was "doomed" in its war against Russia and opposed increasing military aid. He had blamed European leaders for backing Ukraine's counteroffensive, claiming it had resulted in hundreds of thousands of casualties. In 2023, he had clashed publicly with President Volodymyr Zelenskyy during a televised meeting, earning a rebuke from the Ukrainian leader over what critics described as Kremlin-friendly positions. Brussels insiders were already wary. Bulgaria could become a stumbling block in negotiations over future sanctions on Russia, according to European diplomats. The EU hoped to approve a 21st sanctions package in the coming months, but Sofia was already "digging their heels in," though the source of its objections remained unclear. Still, some questioned whether Radev possessed the will or the political capital to play the kind of obstructionist role that Orbán had perfected.

Slovenia's Janez Janša was returning to the Council for a fourth stint as prime minister, bringing with him some Orbán-like tendencies—a self-described Trump admirer with a combative relationship with the media and right-wing populist leanings. But there was a crucial difference: Janša was among Ukraine's staunchest supporters, backing military aid and Kyiv's EU membership bid. He had traveled to Ukraine in the opening weeks of Russia's full-scale invasion as a show of solidarity. Where Janša could prove obstructionist was on Israel. Several EU countries wanted to sanction Israel's hardline national security minister, Itamar Ben-Gvir, over the treatment of Europeans detained aboard a Gaza-bound aid flotilla. Janša was expected to oppose such measures, alongside Germany and the Czech Republic. In recent weeks, he had gone further than most of Israel's European defenders, reversing Slovenia's arms embargo on Israel and lifting entry bans on both Ben-Gvir and Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu. Israel had subsequently announced plans to open an embassy in Ljubljana, a move Janša hailed as marking "a new era in Slovenia-Israel relations." Yet this opposition might not prove decisive. If Germany softened its stance on sanctions, other holdouts could fall into line.

Latvia's Andris Kulbergs arrived as a Russia hawk with an unusual profile. A businessman-turned-politician who had entered parliament only in 2022, he belonged to no party and had never served as a minister. Yet he had secured backing from a broad coalition after a political crisis triggered by accidental Ukrainian drone incursions into Latvian airspace had forced his predecessor's resignation. With just four months before Latvia's general election, his government's immediate priority was shoring up the country's anti-drone defenses. The timing aligned with the Council's agenda. Leaders were set to discuss how to secure the bloc's airspace on its eastern flank and express "full solidarity" with member countries exposed to such threats. Kulbergs had pledged to continue Latvia's stalwart support for Ukraine, signing a drone deal with Kyiv in his first days in office. Latvia stood alongside Poland, Lithuania, and Estonia as the EU's most committed Russia hawks and top defense spenders. As these four leaders took their seats, the Council's political arithmetic had shifted in ways that would reshape how Europe's most powerful body conducted its business.