After 2015, Orbán didn’t fumble the art of persuasion; he walked beyond branding. When growth cooled and threat signals rose, he swapped campaign gloss for decision design: collapse the noise into one clear stake—us vs. them—then pin it to things you can touch and count: jobs, roads, pensions, rezsi. The result wasn’t louder slogans; it was a simpler choice set that mapped fear to protection and talk to delivery.

Critics call it corrosive, and they’re not wrong about the democratic toll. But the opposition mostly mirrors the binary, casting Orbán as the villain while offering no equally legible payoff. In a market where attention is scarce and trust is rationed, the winning play isn’t “be nicer”—it’s out-clarify and out-prove: one sentence of what’s at stake, a credible safety bundle, and evidence people feel in their bills and paychecks—which, unfortunately, is why the us-vs-them play keeps winning.

In contemporary Hungarian politics, Prime Minister Viktor Orbán has cultivated a distinctive rhetorical style that increasingly merits close attention.

In an earlier essay—The Politics of Persuasion: Strategic Branding in Hungary’s Electoral Landscape. Orbán Was Winning Like a Brand. The Opposition Still Hasn’t Learned How —I highlighted how, between 2010 and roughly 2015, Fidesz built durable dominance through disciplined political marketing, narrative craft, and brand strategy.

Yet from about 2015 onward, the marketing compass appears to have shifted: exaggeration, fear appeals, and top‑down messaging crowded out dialogue. What began as persuasive branding hardened into propaganda; vision ceded ground to threat inflation—particularly as economic headwinds mounted and the “product” grew harder to sell.

From Branding to Propaganda—and the Friend/Enemy Turn

From 2015 onward, government communication increasingly adopted an antagonistic binary—friend or enemy. By Orbán’s third and fourth terms, the message architecture had normalized a continuous, war-like posture, staging simulated conflicts against actors labeled “enemies.” The move resonates strongly with the work of Carl Schmitt (1888–1985), the German jurist and political theorist, and appears to draw directly on Schmittian premises.

In Schmitt’s terms, this shift marks an intensification of the political: a move from persuasive branding to existential positioning, where collective identity coheres by naming an enemy.

For Schmitt, the essence of the political is the friend–enemy distinction: a collective becomes political when it recognizes another collective as a possible existential adversary. The enemy is public (not personal) and defined not by moral fault but by the intensity of opposition that may culminate in violent conflict. The point is not that war must occur, but that its possibility gives politics its distinctive gravity and calls for decisive leadership. This criterion also underpins Schmitt’s notions of sovereignty and the “exception”: the sovereign decides, in concrete circumstances, who counts as the enemy and what extraordinary measures are required to preserve political unity. In practice, this logic tends to manufacture “exceptions”—moments framed as extraordinary (migration, “Brussels,” the war in Ukraine, disorder) that justify extraordinary measures in messaging and policy.

Schmitt’s influence is profound across political theory and constitutional thought; his Nazi affiliation and authoritarian commitments, however, shadow his legacy, making him a thinker many consider indispensable to read but hazardous to admire.

“Schmitt left a mark on four different incarnations of his native Germany: the absolutist regime that was Wilhelmine Germany, the failed republic of Weimar Germany, the authoritarian and totalitarian Nazi Germany, and the consolidated democracy of the Federal Republic of Germany”.1

Importantly, his concepts have been taken up across the spectrum—the left, too, adapts Schmitt (e.g., Mouffe/Laclau’s left-populist “people vs. elite” framing and Agamben’s “state of exception”) to advance progressive agendas.

A Contemporary Example

The communicative style that once showcased competent brand‑building now tends not merely to oppose rivals but to annihilate them rhetorically. Rather than engage policy or ideology on their merits, opponents are often reduced to illegitimate, threatening caricatures.

Here is one example of an Orbán’s September 2025 Facebook post distilled this strategy into a striking binary:

“Their weapon is aggression. Lies. Boasting. Incitement. And finally: the pistol. Now not only in words, but in its physical reality…”

“…We have no weapons. Our strength lies in our words and our deeds. The 1,000 kilometers of motorways and highways we have built. The family support programs we have introduced. The one million new jobs we have created. The 13th-month pension we have restored. The Home Start program and the utility price cuts. The peace we stand up for day after day. And all those many plans with which we will make Hungary the greatest, most livable, and safest country in Europe…”

”…We carry the trust of the Hungarian people. They carry a pistol in their pocket. That is the difference between us. So let us bid farewell to weapons. By next April at the latest.”

Context matters. In mid-September 2025, Romulusz Ruszin-Szendi—former Chief of the Defence Staff and, by then, the TISZA Party’s defence spokesman—acknowledged bringing a legally owned firearm to a public forum. As a high-profile former military leader, he reportedly held a lawful carry licence. The incident triggered a political storm; authorities later intervened and seized the weapon. Pro‑government and opposition media alike amplified images and footage from multiple events where he had allegedly carried a gun. While Hungarian law allows firearm ownership under very strict rules (one of the strictest if not the strictest in European Union), carrying a weapon at rallies or public assemblies is prohibited; even licensed owners can face consequences for doing so.

Against this backdrop, Orbán’s post functioned as a narrative keystone. To be clear, this essay does not dispute the illegality of bringing a firearm to a public assembly; it examines how that genuine misstep was instrumentalized into a broader campaign narrative and a tool of instant character killing. The “pistol” frame operates as a mini‑exception, converting a discrete incident into a generalised warrant for heightened, extraordinary political language.

Instant Character Killing: Concept and Mechanics

Instant character killing names a communicative move that collapses argument into condemnation. It operates by metaphor, escalation, and moral labeling rather than by evidence and debate.

The maneuver does not merely question competence or policy; it invalidates personhood as a legitimate political actor. In a polarized environment, once an opponent is framed as violent, dishonest, or anti‑national, deliberation becomes unnecessary. The rival’s program need not be weighed—its proponent has already been expelled from the circle of legitimate contestation.

Operationally, this applies the friend–enemy boundary at the level of persona, excluding the rival from the circle of legitimate political actors.

The Sequence: From Word to Weapon

Orbán’s September 2025 post lays out a rhetorical ladder:

1. Aggression – The adversary’s default mode is hostility.

2. Lies – The adversary is not mistaken but fundamentally dishonest.

3. Exaggeration – Speech is inflated; truth‑value is suspect.

4. Incitement – Language aims to provoke unrest.

5. Pistol – The trajectory culminates in physical violence.

The “pistol” functions both symbolically and literally. It condenses disparate worries—about public order, national trauma, and the sanctity of peace—into a single, vivid image. Thus, the opponent is mapped onto a path from immoral words to criminal deeds, justifying exceptional vigilance and, ultimately, exclusion.

The Positive Mirror: Accumulating Achievements

After delegitimising the adversary, the narrative pivots to a list of concrete achievements: highways built, family support expanded, jobs created, pensions restored, housing support and utility cuts delivered, peace defended. The device is accumulation—tangible results are stacked to produce an aura of competence and benevolence. The contrast is total: abstract threat (them) versus material delivery (us). Politics becomes a choice between chaos and order.

Binary Moral Cosmology and Populist Structure

Where Schmitt’s enemy is public and amoral, this rhetoric moralizes the enemy into evil—turning a Schmittian structure into a Manichaean moral frame:

• They: aggression, lies, incitement, weapons.

• We: trust, work, construction, peace.

It dovetails with a familiar populist structure—“the pure people” versus “the corrupt/alien elite”—but retools corruption as violence. Recurring antagonists in this register include “Brussels,” migration and border threats, “Soros/NGOs,”and, since 2022, a “pro‑war” opposition contrasted with a government of “peace.” At times, opposition actors mirror the game, recoding Orbán himself as the malevolent antagonist—an authoritarian “evil” whose removal is framed as a moral imperative—thereby reproducing the same Manichaean split from the other side. Elections, in this idiom, are not contests of visions; they are rituals of purification. Hence the closing call to “bid farewell to weapons… by next April at the latest,” implicitly reframing the coming vote as civic disarmament.

Strategic Function and Democratic Costs

Strategically, the approach consolidates in‑group cohesion, saturates the agenda with security cues, and crowds out complex policy debate. The democratic costs, however, are steep: opposition is delegitimised, policy is moralised, and pluralism is flattened. Stability is fetishised; deliberation withers.

Conclusion

Orbán’s post-2015 playbook looks Schmittian to the core: friend–enemy politics scaled for mass audiences. Trading branding for a friend–enemy frame—with instant character killing baked in—wins elections but rewires the democratic field. The opposition follows the same route, participating in the very logic it condemns.

In such a frame, Orbán is cast not merely as candidate but as guarantor of national survival—a position that secures hegemony even as it erodes the conditions for genuine democratic contestation.

First, public speech narrows: security-coded cues and moral binaries crowd out policy argument, raising the cost of dissent and rewarding performative outrage over deliberation.

Second, pluralism thins: opponents are cast as illegitimate rather than alternative, so competition becomes purification, not persuasion.

Third, institutions bend toward the exception: extraordinary framing (migration, “Brussels,” war) normalizes extraordinary measures—in messaging and sometimes in policy—making emergency a habit rather than a threshold.

Fourth, media incentives tilt to conflict maximalism, amplifying the binary and shrinking the middle.

Finally, citizen autonomy degrades: choice architecture reduces complexity to a single moral stake (order vs. chaos), trading informed consent for compelled alignment. In this frame, Orbán is not merely a candidate but a guarantor of survival—an advantage that sustains hegemony even as it erodes the conditions for democratic disagreement and renewal.

Disagree? Good. I don’t write to be right—I write to be tested. Bring your “Tenth Man” view, your sharpest counterpoint, or even a quiet doubt. Sometimes the most useful critique is the one that unsettles my own thinking.

Don’t forget to subscribe for more Critical Hungary Insights!

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

This essay explores how political branding has shaped Hungary’s electoral landscape. Prime Minister Viktor Orbán’s ruling Fidesz–KDNP coalition has secured four consecutive supermajorities by building a clear, emotionally resonant brand centered on belonging, security, and control — executed with long-term strategic discipline. In contrast, the opposition has consistently failed to articulate a shared purpose, identity, or message. Fragmented, reactive, and protest-driven, it has lacked emotional connection and struggled to present a compelling alternative. The result: four decisive victories for the ruling coalition, and four defeats for the opposition. Hungarian voter behavior is driven less by ideology than by emotion. Without strategic brand-building, opposition parties remain ineffective — even as dissatisfaction with Fidesz grows.

Conventional wisdom suggests that leaders must “walk the talk.” My usual contrarian approach is the reverse this time: focus on the talk rather than the walk. In this essay, I deliberately set aside the question of whether the political “product” delivers. Instead, I analyze the communication, the narrative work, and the branding strategies that underpin Fidesz’s dominance.

As a marketer, I know that branding is one of the most effective long-term investments. Strong brands generate superior shareholder returns, wheather crises with resilience, and recover faster. Politics is no different. A brand is not a slogan but a system — multi-layered and strategically constructed. When executed well, it includes:

• Brand Core: a clear blueprint and purpose

• Brand Identity: coherent architecture and visual design

• Brand Positioning: a well-defined market address

• Brand Experience: a narrative about how it feels to engage with the brand

• Brand Communication: a distinct and consistent voice

• Brand Consistency: unified messaging and visuals

• Brand Engagement: a strong bond with its community

This essay is therefore not a policy analysis but an exercise in political marketing — focused on branding and brand strategy.

From an objective standpoint, since returning to power in 2010, Orbán’s Fidesz–KDNP coalition has delivered one of the most consistent, strategically disciplined, and impactful political communication campaigns in post-communist Europe — arguably even by Western standards.

From a marketing perspective, the government operated like a high-performance boutique brand: continuously investing in communication, cultivating emotional loyalty, asserting narrative dominance, and shaping public discourse with remarkable discipline.

The opposition, by contrast, has often explained its failures by pointing to government propaganda, media dominance, or the supposed ignorance of voters. While these factors cannot be dismissed entirely, they also serve as convenient excuses that deflect responsibility. The deeper problem is simpler: in marketing terms, the opposition is vastly less professional.

This essay aims to unpack some of the branding layers — particularly in the formative 2010–2015 period — that established Fidesz’s enduring dominance.

Take 1:

Political Marketing Has to Understand the Need States Driving Political Brand Choice

The year 2010 marks a pivotal milestone in Hungarian political marketing. It was when Viktor Orbán and the Fidesz–KDNP coalition won the elections, launching four consecutive supermajorities.

Understanding this “ground zero” moment is crucial to analyzing their success, extracting lessons, and applying them today for the benefit of democracy as a whole.

Ahead of the 2010 national elections, the Hungarian branch of Synovate (now Ipsos), a global marketing research firm, released insights on how political brands were positioned during the national election campaign.

Travelling back to understand this “ground zero” moment, revisiting Synovate’s (now Ipsos) proprietary Censydiam model reveals important insights. The analysis treats political choice not as a rational or ideological decision, but as an emotionally driven act rooted in subconscious motivations.

Unlike consumer goods, political brands are complex constructs made up of people, values, narratives, and cultural signals. Yet, like consumer products, political brands succeed only when they satisfy specific emotional and psychological needs of voters — essentially, political “need states.”

Understading the Censydiam Framework

The Censydiam model is built around two axes:

• Horizontal: Individualism (self-driven) vs. Collectivism (community-driven)

• Vertical: Openness (trust, extroversion) vs. Closedness (doubt, introversion)

These intersecting axes create eight distinct motivational segments, each representing a different psychological driver of brand — or voter — choice:

Because 80% of human behavior is subconscious, voters often choose parties based on what feels right emotionally, rather than stated beliefs.

Therefore people often don’t vote according to what they say they believe, but based on emotional alignment — which parties, brands, or leaders "feel right" to them.

Mapping Political Brands to Motivation Segments

Political ideologies and political brands, the press release argues, are no different —also map to these needs.

Earlier Synovate (now Ipsos) studies also found that Hungarian voters cluster heavily in the Belonging and Security segments, with a secondary presence in Control. This makes Hungary a voter base that is emotionally drawn to community, protection, and order — more than novelty, prestige, or fun.

Hungarian Political Parties in the 2010 Campaign

Understanding this, successful political parties in Hungary are those who speak directly to these motivations — and those that don’t often fail to connect with voters, regardless of their policy platform. During the 2010 election campaign, the analysis mapped Hungarian political parties based on how their campaign messages and branding aligned with motivational needs.

• Jobbik (far-right nationalist): Positioned clearly in the Control segment, emphasizing national self-governance, law and order, with uniforms and disciplined imagery.

• LMP (green/liberal): Targeted Recognition, appealing to young urban voters with creative visuals and “being different” messaging.

• MDF & Civic Movement: Lacked clear positioning, falling between Enjoyment and Conviviality, leading to electoral irrelevance.

• Fidesz–KDNP (center-right): Centered on Belonging (+++) and Security (+), using family-oriented visuals and slogans promoting stability.

• MSZP (socialist): Claimed Security (+++) and Belonging (+), but failed to emotionally outcompete Fidesz.

Notably, both mass parties operated in overlapping motivational zones, but Fidesz outperformed by presenting a more trustworthy and emotionally aligned narrative, especially in post-crisis Hungary.

Key Strategic Takeaways from the Press Release

• Voter choice is emotional first, ideological second.

• Clarity beats complexity: niche parties must own a single motivational space.

Hungary’s dominant voter needs are Belonging, Security, and Control. Successful brands own and reinforce these spaces consistently.

Take 2:

There is a Need for Offering Alternative to Orbán’s Political Brand About Clarity and Control

Since 2010, Viktor Orbán’s Fidesz has established itself as one of Europe’s most effective political brands, excelling across nearly every branding layer during its first two terms.

Fidesz built its dominance by excelling across every major layer of branding — and by venturing into advanced strategic territories.

Brand Core: They articulated a clear mission and emotionally charged purpose. Since 2010, Fidesz has consistently framed itself as the protector of Hungary’s sovereignty, Christian values, and national identity — a unifying vision that resonated across elections.

Brand Identity: They cultivated a stable and recognizable image. Consistent use of national colors, familiar fonts, slogans such as “Hungary is doing better”, and Orbán’s central, CEO-like figure reinforced a coherent political identity.

Brand Positioning: They claimed key emotional territories — Belonging, Security, and Control. By presenting themselves as the party of stability and tradition, in contrast to a fragmented opposition, Fidesz aligned with voter fears and aspirations in uncertain times.

Brand Experience: They staged campaigns as emotional, community-driven spectacles. Large-scale rallies, family-centered visuals, and grassroots events fostered belonging and pride, making political participation feel empowering and communal.

Brand Communication: They mastered simple, emotionally resonant messaging. Narratives like “Stop Brussels”, “Protect our families”, and “Let’s not become like the West” relied on repetition and moral framing to build lasting associations.

Brand Consistency: They reinforced stability through disciplined leadership and centralized control. Orbán’s continued role, long-term communication strategy, and message alignment across all party levels sustained trust and brand strength.

Brand Engagement: They cultivated a strong bond with their community, positioning themselves not just as a political party but as a cultural identity. Like Apple or Nike, Fidesz sells a lifestyle: belonging to the “true Hungary.”

Narrative Expansion: They broadened appeal by selectively adopting left-wing themes such as family subsidies or wage growth, reframed within nationalist rhetoric. This allowed the brand to resonate across social classes while preserving ideological coherence.

Global Positioning: Like a boutique brand, Hungary under Fidesz commands disproportionate global attention. Bold, polarizing messages amplified by international media make the brand larger than its domestic market size.

Brand Risks: The model is not without vulnerabilities. Heavy reliance on fear-based messaging risks voter fatigue; international reputational damage could erode credibility abroad; and without innovation, the brand may stagnate.

Fidesz’s success illustrates how professional, disciplined branding can shape political outcomes over the long term. By systematically building a clear mission, recognizable identity, emotionally resonant positioning, and engaging narratives — while expanding into global attention and lifestyle-based appeal — the party created a brand that transcends ordinary politics. Its dominance is not simply a product of resources or government control, but of sustained, strategic brand management. Understanding these layers helps explain why the opposition has struggled to compete: without comparable brand clarity, coherence, and emotional resonance, even widespread dissatisfaction with the ruling party fails to translate into electoral success.

Take 3:

Regain the Occupied Traditional Left-Wing Spaces or Find New Proprietary Narratives

Part of Orbán’s success comes from strategically occupying emotional spaces traditionally associated with the left:

• Utility price cuts framed as protection from foreign corporations.

• Family benefits implemented through a nationalist lens.

• Anti-globalist rhetoric targeting the EU, George Soros, and multinational corporations.

• Worker-centric messaging blending pro-labor rhetoric with nationalist themes.

By appropriating these areas, Fidesz limits the opposition’s ability to claim distinctive, proprietary narratives. For the opposition to regain relevance, they must work harder to identify issues and narratives that genuinely resonate with voters — ones that reflect their values while addressing contemporary concerns.

Take 4:

Missed Opportunities and Weaknesses Define the Opposition’s Brand Void

In stark contrast to Fidesz’s disciplined and emotionally resonant branding, the Hungarian opposition between 2010 and 2025 consistently struggled to construct a coherent political brand. While the ruling party delivered clarity, the opposition projected confusion — reactive, fragmented, and emotionally unanchored. Across seven core branding dimensions, the weaknesses are especially visible:

Brand Core: The opposition lacked a unified purpose or emotional mission. MSZP (Hungarian Socialist Party) drifted between diluted social democracy and short-term populist gestures, while the Democratic Coalition (DK), led by former Prime Minister Ferenc Gyurcsány, focused more on opposing Orbán than presenting a forward-looking national vision. Without a compelling blueprint or shared direction, the opposition’s offer felt like rejection rather than renewal, failing to inspire lasting loyalty.

Brand Identity: Parties repeatedly rebranded into obscurity. Names, logos, slogans, and alliances shifted frequently. LMP gradually lost its distinctiveness, Together 2014 offered little coherence, and Momentum struggled to maintain a singular identity as it expanded. Voters were left unsure who stood for what — or why.

Brand Positioning: Most opposition parties defined themselves primarily as “anti-Fidesz,” rather than clarifying what they stood for. Jobbik’s shift from far-right nationalist to centrist alliance partner blurred ideological lines and alienated its base. MSZP and DK often competed in the same space, undermining collective appeal. Without a clear address in the political market, voters struggled to locate them.

Brand Experience: Opposition events lacked emotional pull. Unlike Fidesz’s large-scale rallies, Momentum’s “NOlimpia” campaign in 2017 was a rare grassroots success. Most other events felt transactional — opportunities to engage were limited, sporadic, and rarely repeatable.

Brand Communication: Messaging was often complex, technocratic, or overly negative. MSZP and DK emphasized policy details and bureaucratic critique, missing the emotional and symbolic language that connects with voters. Social media efforts were inconsistent; Momentum leveraged digital platforms effectively, but in isolation. Overall, opposition communication focused on resistance rather than vision.

Brand Consistency: Frequent leadership changes, shifting alliances, and internal conflicts undermined public trust. Each election cycle brought new logos, new leaders, or new crises, preventing the delivery of a steady, reliable narrative.

Brand Engagement: Opposition presence outside urban centers was limited. Momentum reached younger, educated voters, but broader grassroots networks were weak. The 2022 opposition alliance appeared top-down and disconnected in rural communities, whereas Fidesz maintained local networks and year-round engagement.

The opposition did not fail solely because of Orbán’s strength; it failed because it never built a coherent, emotionally resonant, and strategically disciplined brand. While Fidesz offered voters a mission, identity, and community, the opposition offered only protest and resentment. Slogans like “O1G” express anger but fail to build vision or emotional connection, limiting appeal to moderate or undecided voters.

Unless the opposition addresses this branding deficit — uniting around a shared mission, streamlining its identity, and connecting emotionally with Hungary’s dominant voter needs (Belonging, Security, Control) — it will continue to lose not only elections, but trust.

Take 5:

Opposition Without Vision is Constantly Locked in a Endless Protest Loop

From 1990 to 2010, Hungarian politics was dominated by cycles of protest driven more by voter fatigue than by visionary alternatives.

Today, the opposition risks falling into the same trap. Outrage-driven campaigns, clickbait-style slogans, and aggressive rhetoric — such as the viral O1G hashtag or anti-Orbán memes — may capture attention online and generate likes and shares, but they fail to build credibility, trust, or lasting voter loyalty. Relying on O1G as a platform is neither strategic marketing nor effective brand building; it lacks vision and offers voters no compelling alternative.

By contrast, Fidesz combines emotional resonance with disciplined, multi-layered branding. Slogans like “Stop Brussels” and “Protect our families” are not only attention-grabbing, they are consistent, repeatable, and tied to a clear mission. The party amplifies these narratives across rallies, social media, and grassroots events, reinforcing identity, belonging, and long-term engagement. The opposition, in contrast, remains trapped in reactive protest: visible and viral, but fleeting and strategically hollow.

The lesson is clear: attention alone does not translate into influence or votes. To compete effectively, opposition parties must move beyond outrage-driven campaigns and memes, and instead develop a coherent brand strategy. This requires defining a unifying mission, crafting emotionally resonant narratives, and consistently communicating a vision that addresses voters’ core needs — Belonging, Security, and Control. Only by building a disciplined, authentic, and strategically designed political brand can the opposition transform short-term online engagement into lasting trust and electoral success, creating a credible alternative to Fidesz’s entrenched dominance.

Conclusion

Protest Might Win, But It Won’t Build

Let’s be honest: Hungarian politics has been a playground for propaganda for far too long.

Between 2010 and 2018, Fidesz–KDNP proved that disciplined, emotionally intelligent marketing could win hearts and minds. They built a brand, told a story, and created a sense of belonging. Then, somewhere along the way, the marketing compass broke. In the last two terms, exaggeration, fear, and top-down messaging crept in. Propaganda became the tool of choice. Fear replaced vision. Control replaced dialogue. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that this shift coincided with a slowdown in the country’s economic performance — when the underlying “product” falters, the messaging became louder, sharper, and more manipulative to compensate.

Meanwhile, the opposition has been living in propaganda’s shadow all along — reactive, clickbait-driven, outrage-based, and ever-chasing viral attention. O1G, memes, hashtags — they grab likes, but they don’t build trust. Even new voices like Péter Magyar, bright and visible, carry echoes of Fidesz’s inner circles and haven’t learned the craft of ethical persuasion. They are trapped in a loop: protest as performance, not as a pathway to lasting influence.

Here’s the contrarian truth: the path to real change is not louder shouting. It’s disciplined ethical marketing. And that comes with rules — the do’s and don’ts too often ignored:

• Do use facts, not lies. Don’t distort reality.

• Do respect opponents. Don’t dehumanize or scare-monger.

• Do listen to all (!!!) voters. Don’t speak past them.

• Do be transparent. Don’t hide your intent behind fake neutrality.

• Do use emotion honestly. Don’t manipulate fear or hatred.

• Do allow debate. Don’t silence dissent.

• Do maintain ethical standards. Don’t cut corners.

Here’s the twist: if your strategy feels comfortable, you’re probably wrong.

Ethical marketing in Hungary will require imagination, courage, and a willingness to break the cycle of reactive outrage. Clicks, shares, and viral outrage will not build a movement. Vision, discipline, and ethical persuasion just might.

Sell what people feel they need, not just what they scream for online.

Belonging. Security. Control.

These aren’t slogans — they are the human drivers every strategist ignores at their peril.

Disagree? Good. I don’t write to be right — I write to be tested. Bring your “Tenth Man” perspective, your sharpest counterpoint, or even a quiet doubt — as long as it is supported by evidence and data. Sometimes the most useful critique is the one that unsettles my own thinking.

Don’t forget to subscribe for more Critical Hungary Insights!

Subscribe now

Leave a comment

Share

What if elections weren’t true accountability—but the illusion of it?
This manifesto challenges the comforting rituals of representative democracy and asks harder questions about performance of elected representatives, power, and public trust. Drawing from Hungary’s recent political record, it exposes how even measurable successes can conceal deeper failures—and offers a bold framework for holding elected officials to real, ongoing standards. This isn’t a call for revolution. It’s a call for results.

A Manifesto from Inside the System—Without Illusions

If I were a politician I would start with this manifesto for accountability.

Not because it’s comfortable. Not because it’s clever. But because it’s honest about a system we all defend publicly while often questioning privately.

Let me be clear: this is not a manifesto for a revolution. It’s not an act of idealism. It’s not designed to go viral.

This is what I’d say if I were a politician who no longer believed in the fantasy that elections equal accountability (at least not enough), or that slogans equal vision. I would write this knowing that most people are tired—not inspired.

That institutions protect themselves.

That citizens have more skepticism than hope.

But I’d also write this because some things are too broken to manage—and too important to abandon.

So this manifesto doesn’t promise fast change. It doesn’t pretend to offer immediate reform. It doesn’t flatter citizens into believing they have more power than they do. It exists for another reason:

To show that one can enter politics without surrendering independent thought.
To prove that critique isn’t disloyalty—it’s integrity.
And to begin rebuilding a language of democratic accountability that means something again.

If I were a politician, I wouldn’t run on this manifesto for accountability.

I would be held to it.

Preamble for The Democratic Accountability of Elected Representatives Manifesto

We, the undersigned, reject the complacency that democracy, simply by having elected representatives, is functioning. We reject the idea that elections, slogans, and symbolic participation constitute the only true public power. We reject the idea that the elected representative is accountable only every four years. And we reject the delusion that leaders can govern without precise goals, deliver without metrics, and rule without consequence.

This is not a call for revolution. It’s a call for performance. For results.

For a representative democracy that works like the systems we already trust: competitive markets, real-time dashboards, empowered shareholders.

We demand a democracy that performs—or stops calling itself one. Because the alternative to non-performing democracy isn’t autocracy—it’s structural reform.

Principles of Democratic Performance by Elected Representatives

To ensure true democratic accountability, elected representatives must meet clear standards of performance—guided by the following five core principles.

1. Citizens Are Shareholders, Not Spectators

Citizens must have a binding voice in goal-setting, budget priorities, and public leadership. Voting every four years isn’t power—it’s the illusion of power.

2. Set the Goal, or Lose the Job

Political parties and representatives must publish binding, measurable mandates and effective goal setting upon election—and face regular public audits on their progress quarterly.

3. Performance Must Be Public

SMART framework, government and elected representative KPIs, budgets, and delivery reports must be published like earnings calls—clearly, comparably, and accessibly.

4. Recall Is a Right, Not a Riot

Citizens must be able to withdraw political executives between elections through a structured recall mechanism in case of poor performance.

5. Independent Oversight, with Teeth

Oversight institutions must be funded, autonomous, and immune to political interference—like external auditors in a corporation. The work of these institution should build on citizens control and feedback.

Just as successful businesses rely on clear goals, transparent reporting, and regular performance reviews to create value and maintain trust, democratic governance requires the same rigor. Without adopting a accountability mindset, politics remains a game of narratives rather than real outcomes.

Hungary: A Case in Point

To illustrate how even measurable achievements can mask deeper structural issues, Hungary provides a revealing case.

To ensure fairness, I’ve deliberately selected a clearly measurable, publicly stated commitment by the current ruling conservative party alliance (Fidesz–KDNP), which has held uninterrupted power with a supermajority for four consecutive terms. It would be nearly impossible to identify comparable, trackable commitments from the opposition as a whole.

Over the past 15 years, the ruling coalition has made numerous promises—most of them vague or lacking measurable targets. However, one notable exception stands out: the explicit commitment to create 1 million new jobs within 10 years.

And on this point, they delivered. The job creation target was met within the pledged timeframe—an achievement in its own right, particularly given how rare it is for political actors to make, let alone fulfill, such quantifiable commitments.

But here, the tenth man rule becomes relevant—that principle that when nine people agree, it becomes the responsibility of the tenth to ask hard questions.

So, we must ask:

At what cost was this achieved?

Were there structural side effects?

What were the trade-offs?

Without attempting an exhaustive response to the earlier questions, the list below outlines key costs, structural side effects, and trade-offs observed during the implementation of Hungary’s employment and reindustrialization agenda—pursued under the current ruling coalition:

• 2010: Launch of the "reindustrialization" strategy under Prime Minister Orbán, prioritizing investment in manufacturing and production sectors. Hungary's "reindustrialization" was marketed as sovereignty-building — yet paradoxically, it outsourced economic resilience to foreign boardrooms. In trying to escape IMF-era austerity, the country may have traded financial dependency for industrial servitude. While “reindustrialization” boosted job quantity in manufacturing, it often resulted in job quality issues, skill stagnation, regional disparities, and vulnerability to external economic forces, limiting sustainable long-term employment growth.

• 2011: Intensive use of government-mandated workfare programs to reduce official unemployment, often substituting for long-term employment policies. While workfare programs lowered official unemployment stats, they masked deeper structural problems, encouraged a cycle of precarious, low-skill jobs, and diverted focus from sustainable employment policies.

• 2012: Increase in the standard VAT rate from 25% to 27%. Raising VAT to the world’s highest rate didn’t just boost government revenue — it quietly choked off the true driver of jobs: consumer spending. Sometimes, the most powerful employment policy isn’t how much you spend, but what you choose to tax. The steep VAT increase hit the heart of the SME sector hardest, undermining competitiveness. It became a hidden tax on SME lifeblood, shrinking profits, complicating compliance, and pushing some toward informality—all while shrinking the very customer base SMEs rely on to thrive and grow.

• 2015–2024: Hungary recorded the highest annual inflation rate in the EU in five separate years within a decade. Hungary’s chronic inflation wasn’t just a number—it was a slow bleed on job stability, SME resilience, and real livelihoods, making every economic plan a moving target. High inflation wasn’t just an economic headline — it quietly drained people’s real life quality, squeezing budgets, futures, and even health, while governments scrambled to keep up.

• 2015–2024: Median real incomes declined, as real wage growth failed to keep pace with inflation. Between 2015 and 2024, median real incomes shrank because wage growth couldn’t keep up with inflation. This wasn’t just a numbers game — it meant many households faced a decline in purchasing power, struggling to maintain their lifestyles despite working more or earning nominally more. When wages lag behind prices, people don’t just lose money — they lose security, opportunity, and hope for upward mobility. Half of the Hungarians among the worse earners in the EU.

• 2020–2024: Continuous devaluation of the Hungarian forint (HUF) against major global currencies. The government communication on keeping the local currency is great for the country narrative decoded means it is in the interest of exporting large companies to keep the forint, and postponing euro. So the weakening currency is boosting exports revenues on paper, but for everyday Hungarians and the backbone SMEs, it quietly meant shrinking wallets, squeezed profits, and a fog of financial uncertainty.

• 2022: Hungary’s preferential tax scheme claims to support small entrepreneurs, but its design tells a different story. After the 2022 KATA (Itemized Tax for Small Taxpayers) reform, over 80% of former users were excluded, losing access to one of the only affordable, simplified tax options. Unlike regional peers, Hungary offers no real path for part-timers, freelancers, or side-hustlers—just hard limits and dead ends. With one of the lowest VAT exemption thresholds in the EU, most SMEs hit complexity before they hit scale.

• 2022–2024: The public debt-to-GDP ratio worsened, especially in the post-pandemic period. Debt piling up after the pandemic isn’t just a fiscal statistic — it quietly narrows the government’s room to maneuver, potentially leaving people and businesses to fend for themselves when they need help most.

• 2025: The job market is increasingly defined by low-skill, low-wage employment, reflecting a preference for low-cost labor over high-value job creation. The data coming from the largest job search portal in Hungary, tells the story. 72% of listings require less than 3 years of experience, only 0.4% of listing need over 10 years experience.

It’s no coincidence that many of the trade-offs, hidden costs, and side effects discussed above show up clearly in the data. What was sold as stability often came at the expense of resilience — and the numbers reflect it.

Far from painting a success story, the below Key Performance Indicator scorecard reveals the Janus-faced reality of Hungary’s recent economic trajectory.

The overall picture does not look like great governance performance isn’t?

On the positive side, Hungary ranks among the top performers in reducing unemployment in three out of five years, fulfilling a major and visible policy objective.

In 2023, Hungary jumped to the top of the regional rankings in GDP growth and household consumption—likely due to a bounce-back effect following a sharp economic decline in 2022. But this rebound needs context: in the prior year, Hungary ranked near the bottom in nominal GDP growth and performed the worst in household consumption.

Even with the 2023 bounce, Hungary ranked only 7th in GDP per capita based on Purchasing Power Parity (PPP)—suggesting that headline growth figures may not fully reflect deeper structural competitiveness.

On the negative side, Hungary consistently ranks near the bottom of the regional table in several core areas, including inflation, currency stability, and public debt.

Looking at the average annual rankings—a blunt but still informative indicator of overall performance—Hungary only approaches the regional average in 2023. In all other years, its performance remains volatile and uneven.

The average ranking scores reveal at least a below-average performance. However, beyond the rankings themselves, the scorecard highlights a deeper methodological issue: the risk of oversimplification. Without granular, indicator-level analysis, flat rankings can obscure structural weaknesses, distort trade-offs, and reward volatility over consistency.

This reinforces the broader need for multi-dimensional, transparent, and context-sensitive assessment tools—especially when evaluating long-term governance and political accountability.

Even when long-term, measurable commitments are technically fulfilled, they should not be viewed in isolation. Success on paper can still raise concerns when broader trade-offs, side effects, and systemic costs are ignored.

Governments often prefer siloed metrics, because isolated successes are easier to communicate and politicize. But jobs can be created in many ways, and not all are sustainable or beneficial in the long term. Some may come with high inflation, stagnant or decreasing wages, or increased debt.

This underscores the need for a more integrated, outcome-oriented approach—grounded in clear, publicly accountable KPIs that reflect not just quantity, but quality of governance.

• No Goals: Campaign promises are vague. Concrete, measurable political mandates are rare to nonexistent.

• No performance review: Power is held between elections with little transparency or structured citizen review.

• No citizen power: Experiments like participatory budgeting in Budapest are hopeful but limited in scope.

And Hungary is not a unique in this.

It’s a familiar template.

Accountability Isn’t Radical—It’s the Minimum

In politics, accountability has become a formality.

Leaders face no real consequences for non-performance—only narrative consequences, easily manipulated through media, timing, and emotion.

In Hungary, we’ve seen this codified:

• Oversight bodies weakened.

• Public procurement metrics created, then ignored.

• Citizens offered symbolic engagement, not structural influence.

Imagine a CEO who could miss every target, ignore board oversight, and rewrite their job description mid-year. That’s what politics allows—without question.

We don’t need idealism. We need infrastructure:

Pre-election mandates with KPIs.

Quarterly citizen audits.

Independent citizen-led review boards.

Legal, mid-cycle recall mechanisms.

This is not radical. It’s normal everywhere else.

Demanding Structural Reform

We call for:

1. Mandatory objective setting like the S.M.A.R.T. (Specific-Measurable-Achievable-Relevant-Timely) framework.

2. Mandatory political KPIs before each election, ratified publicly.

3. Citizen-led quarterly review boards, randomly selected and legally binding.

4. Open data infrastructure at national and local levels.

5. Constitutional right to recall representatives between elections.

6. Performance audits by citizens and independent third parties, published annually.

Conclusion: The Cost of Inaction

Democracy without performance is not a flawed system. It is a failing one. But democracy isn’t failing because it’s wrong. It’s failing because we stopped demanding results.

This manifesto isn’t naïve enough to think reform will come quickly. But it’s grounded enough to know it won’t come at all if we don’t start with a sharper set of expectations.

If I were a politician, this wouldn’t be a campaign.
It would be a contract.
With real consequences.

We’ve inherited democratic rituals.
Now we need democratic results.

Disagree? Good. I don’t write to be right—I write to be tested. Bring your Tenth Man view, your sharpest counterpoint, or even a quiet doubt—so long as it builds on data. The most useful critique is often the one that unsettles my own thinking.

Don’t forget to subscribe for more Critical Hungary Insights!

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment

Loyalty is changing. Traditional brand loyalty based on repeat buying is fading, but emotional and ethical loyalty are on the rise. Marketing must move beyond simple behavior metrics and embrace deeper human connections shaped by values and trust. This shift impacts business strategies and social cohesion alike, calling for new approaches that blend data with empathy. Understanding loyalty’s evolution is key for shaping future markets and communities.

Foreword: The Present and Loyalty in Flux

I originally published the essay below in 2006 in The Hungarian Journal for Marketing and Management (Vol. XI. 2–3, pp. 32–38), where I offered some critical and contrarian reflections on marketing—particularly around consumer and brand loyalty. What follows is the English translation of that piece.

While some ideas may feel dated nearly two decades later, many still resonate today—perhaps even more so in light of how the digital and post-digital era have transformed loyalty.

Today, AI estimates suggest there are close to 1 billion references to “loyalty” on the internet. Of these, 30–35% relate to marketing, making it the most dominant context. In comparison, political loyalty accounts for roughly 5–10%, personal and interpersonal loyalty for 4–8%, workplace and organizational loyalty for just 2–5%, while the remaining 40–50% spans religion, military, and other forms.

Despite the ubiquity of loyalty language, many sources point to a general decline in brand loyalty. For instance, some reports show that loyalty dropped from 77% in 2022 to 69% in 2024. In the US and UK, over half of consumers say they feel less loyal to brands than in the past. Among Generation-Z, this trend is even more pronounced post-pandemic, with 57% reporting weaker brand allegiance.

At the same time, we’re witnessing a countertrend: a rise in emotional and ethical loyalty. Between 2021 and 2024, emotional loyalty—based on deep, personal connection—rose 26%, reaching 35% of consumers. Ethical loyalty—driven by values alignment—climbed 25% over the same period, reaching 30%.

These shifts are reshaping business priorities. Acquiring new customers is now about 60% more expensive than in previous years. As a result, brands are doubling down on retention and lifetime value. Over 90% of major brands now offer loyalty programs, and 75% of consumers prefer brands that do. In 2024, loyalty program engagement rose by 28%, a 40% increase over the previous year. The loyalty management market is projected to grow from ~$15B in 2025 to ~$41B by 2032 .

To keep up, brands are turning to AI-driven personalization, real-time offers, gamification (43% adoption and growing), and omnichannel experiences to drive engagement. Increasingly, loyalty is shaped by shared values—with eco-friendly, ethical, and inclusive brand positioning gaining traction.

You can trace this evolution across several schools of thought:

• From Behavioral to Emotional: Early loyalty theory (1950s–70s) focused on repeat purchases, while later frameworks emphasized psychological, emotional, and social bonds.

• From Brand-Centric to Consumer-Centric: Relationship marketing and service-dominant logic reframed loyalty around co-creation and customer experience.

• Toward Post-Digital Loyalty: Today, loyalty is driven by a blend of data-driven personalization and emotional or ethical alignment. Consumers are loyal to brands that reflect their values—authenticity, sustainability, inclusivity.

In short, the story of loyalty in marketing is far from over. It’s evolving. The theories—and the data—show loyalty in flux.

The essay below, translated into English, reflects my thinking on loyalty as it stood in 2006—some ideas remain relevant, while others invite fresh interpretation. It was never intended as a formal academic work.

The Mourning Professionals, the Ambulant Experts, and Loyalty

Let’s hop online and launch a search engine (loyalty be damned—I almost said Google lol) and look up the term loyalty1. Two immediate findings hit us in the face: (a) there’s an enormously rich literature on loyalty, with thousands upon thousands of publications, and (b) the overwhelming majority of this material comes from the marketing profession.

If we dig deeper than just keyword content analysis—especially in marketing literature—we notice something else: a surprising consensus-in-disagreement. Everyone agrees that consumer loyalty is declining, but everyone interprets this decline differently.

One group writes as if performing a funeral rite—mourning loyalty’s passing, lamenting the loss of brand allegiance or category fidelity. They speak of loyalty as something already dead or on life support, a quaint relic of a bygone marketing era (call them the mourning professionals).

Meanwhile, others position themselves as emergency responders—ambulant experts on call—insisting that loyalty is alive and well, merely undergoing a transformation (call this the ambulance crew).

So, even at the outset, one thing is crystal clear:

Loyalty remains a topic of widespread concern, and there is general agreement that traditional consumer loyalty—whether to a brand or product category—is eroding

Loyalty’s Last Rites and the Cult of Marketing Machismo

Marketers are seasoned at mobilizing massive resources to understand consumers, yet direct, authentic connections between marketers and real people are rare (respect for the few).2

Consumers3 remain distant, intangible beings—almost too exotic for most people (and professionals) to comprehend. Still, this lack of understanding doesn’t seem to slow down the relentless pursuit of the Holy Grail of consumer loyalty.

This is what I call “marketing machismo.”

But what fuels this “machismo”?

The answer lies within marketing itself.

It’s no coincidence that marketing—a so-called “lesser science” of economics—is the field most obsessed with brand loyalty. What’s ironic is that loyalty, the very thing marketing is so invested in, is fundamentally alien to the basic principles of its parent science, economics. The logic of free markets leaves little room for loyalty—or does it? (Kinneging, 2004)4

Let’s ask: what do marketers want?

That's fairly clear. They want us (a) consumers to remain attached to and continue choosing the products, brands, or parties they promote. The marketer’s question is: how do we get consumers to always drink Coca-Cola, buy the same laundry detergent, or drive the same brand of car?

Yet, this goes against the very essence of market logic.

Free markets function best without loyalty. According to economic logic, consumers choose the products or brands that best satisfy their needs—until they don’t. As soon as another brand or product offers equal or better value—perhaps at a lower price—it’s not only rational but desirable that consumer preferences shift toward the competitor. This is the essence of competition.

In such an “unfaithful” context, only a fanatic would talk about brand switching in terms like betrayal, conspiracy, or sacrilege. Deep down, we all know this—even if we only speak that way behind closed doors. But the fact that marketers don’t typically use these terms, even when loyalty is genuinely lacking, highlights a problem: we might be misusing the concept of loyalty altogether.

Loyalty makes sense only if betrayal is also a possibility (Spinoza: omnis determinatio est negatio). If the notion of betrayal has no place—because it’s irrelevant in economic or marketing terms—then neither does loyalty. In such a world ruled by free-market mechanisms, loyalty has no real home. In this sense, marketing’s use of the concept is simply perverse. Where loyalty exists, price mechanisms end (Kinneging, 2004).

In the consumer market, loyalty is essentially a bond between a person and a product. It reflects a tendency to repeatedly choose the same brand or product. But this is only a partial loyalty (secundum quid), not a complete one (simpliciter). To speak of a sacred bond between a consumer and their favorite product is absurd. Full loyalty refers to a bond that exists primarily between people.

We can only understand consumer loyalty in contrast to full loyalty. So instead of asking, “What is loyalty?” (a secondary question), we should ask, “What is the value of loyalty?”—and that might bring us closer to the truth.

Let’s look at the Hungarian market. Everyone complains about the lack of loyalty. People switch brands, shop in new places, constantly hunt for better deals (let’s not get into purchasing power), even buy cars in a higher price range. Is that bad?

Hungarians (like many in modern societies) have low trust—toward everything and everyone. A raw capitalist mindset prevails.

“People now worship money, banks pop up like mushrooms, and social status depends on your car, your girlfriend’s bust size, and how loud your stereo blasts.”5

Maybe our loyalty is indeed minimal, and our sense of community is weak. But something else has emerged: the individual's unprecedented freedom to do what they want, with whom they want. What we lose in trust and loyalty, we try to make up for with purchasing power (if only it matched Germany’s LoL). Everything is for sale, and we are buyers of everything. Who needs loyalty?

It's as if Hungary today (and not only Hungary) lives within Lyotard’s—or Deleuze and Guattari’s—“libidinal economy,” where desire is something to be harvested, stored, spent, squandered, or profitably invested.6 Our psychosexual energies feed the capitalist machine, which in turn makes a profit. In this economy, people make decisions—what to buy, sell, how to work—based on desire.

Postmodern philosophers argue that the West is in a libidinal twilight—a slow internal hemorrhage draining bodies and cities alike, leaving behind only relics and anaemic simulacra. Libido dissolves in all-consuming consumerism or spins endlessly in a vicious cycle. Unsurprisingly, in Lyotard’s model, the archetypal figure of this economy is the prostitute (Bennett, 2005).7

Project that onto our reality: Hungary began consumerizing in the 1980s, led privatization in the region, is a porn power, has high divorce rates—so how are we doing with loyalty?

The Ambulant Experts and the Resurrection of Loyalty

While the “mourners” are already burying loyalty, the “ambulance team” is working hard to revive it.

They argue that ego-centered consumerism—what we've dubbed libidinal consumer prostitution—is not the only way to see it. Humans are inherently social beings. We need community. Modernization stole this from us, replacing the “we” consciousness with an “I” consciousness. Loyalty declined because of that. But the “we” held richer relational meaning—and loyalty is inherently relational.

What we may have lost may be more valuable than what we gained in freedom—the freedom to do what we want (Kinneging, 2004).

We must acknowledge that marketing and the economic sphere are only small slices of society. Loyalty is also essential in families and citizenship. Without loyalty, neither families nor civil societies can flourish. Applying market categories to these spheres—while excluding loyalty—destroys institutions vital for a free, thriving society.

“Ambulant experts” approach loyalty from this relational, emotional side. They too recognize the machismo and knowledge gaps.

They say trust underpins loyalty—but what is trust? Parents build it with children. Newlyweds want it. Managers aim to build it in teams. Politicians try to measure it in institutions. Marketers? They want to quantify it.

Yet when we speak of loyalty, many consumers feel uncomfortable.8 The idea of being emotionally connected to a brand or company feels odd—like a weakness. It’s like admitting ads influence you (which few would).

Loyalty implies intimacy—more fitting between people, not companies. Still, in reality, consumers do develop loyalty toward companies and brands. They form emotional bonds and return again and again. They trust, rely, and find comfort in those brands. Brands become part of their identity.

What role does loyalty play in their lives? Many consumers long to develop roots. They return where they’re treated well. Loyalty reduces risk. It provides security. Hence, loyalty is emotional—just like relationships.

Yet most in marketing (including market research) don’t understand this. Businesses still define loyalty by behavior: number of purchases, spend, visits, etc. But this is really retention, not loyalty. They're related, but not the same.

Defining loyalty as behavior is easy—because it’s measurable. That’s why it persists. But it creates a false reality: a loyal-looking consumer may just be retained by convenience. True loyalty—especially emotional—is rare, long-lasting, and more meaningful.

Some researchers (e.g. Barnes, 2002) distinguish between functional and emotional loyalty. Functional loyalists like convenience: location, hours, stock, etc. Emotional loyalists feel welcomed, appreciated, recognized—they enjoy the experience.

They may behave similarly, but emotional loyalty is deeper and more durable. In Hungary, if any loyalty exists, it's likely functional—because that’s what we can measure.

So the real question is: what drives emotional loyalty?

Firms must dig deeper into consumer psychology. Marketing built an ivory-tower version of loyalty—brittle, commodified. Now, it must return to the real, human level: relationships, emotions, authenticity.

So, what causes emotional loyalty?

For now, it's difficult to give a precise answer. Perhaps that's why consumer researchers haven’t pursued this question too deeply—yet. What's certain is that if we want to understand the why behind consumer loyalty (rather than just the what or the how much), we must go beyond the logic of traditional marketing.

We need to grasp what kind of emotional bonds—conscious or subconscious—keep people connected to a store, a service provider, or a product. Emotional loyalty is difficult to describe and even harder to measure. Yet we know it exists. It’s based on positive memories, comfort, perceived personal value, meaningful experiences, and often a human connection with the brand.

This means the future of loyalty research lies not in quantitative metrics alone, but in psychological and sociological insights. In understanding how experiences, relationships, and identity shape buying habits and long-term preferences. And in appreciating that what we used to call “irrational” or “subjective” behavior might be the most human of all.

The Changing Face of Loyalty — A Summary

So, let’s sum up what we’ve learned.

• Loyalty, in its original form, is disappearing. The mechanical, transactional version (buy X times = loyal) is no longer enough.

• This is often blamed on consumers—but in reality, marketers also share the blame. By clinging to outdated models, we’ve misunderstood what loyalty really is.

• The “macho” approach in marketing wanted control, predictability, dominance over consumer behavior. But in doing so, it ignored the fluidity, vulnerability, and emotionality of human relationships.

• The “ambulant” approach—though still emerging—seeks to reclaim this. It treats consumers not as data points, but as people with desires, fears, and values.

• In a world flooded with choices, true loyalty is rare and precious. And it can only be built where there is trust, recognition, and emotional connection.

Maybe loyalty never disappeared—it just evolved. Into something more human. Into something that can’t be bought, only earned.

The Third Path: Short‑Term Branding for Loyalty

Both the “mourning women” and the “ambulant experts” recognize that in recent years consumers have become increasingly open to new brands, effectively swapping brand loyalty for brand variety—a trend that jeopardizes long‑term brand survival.

This third path proposes a pragmatic and opportunistic strategy to address loyalty decline: marketers need to supplement traditional long‑term brand building with new tools, such as systematically creating and managing Short‑Term Brands (STBs) (Herman, 2002).9

Traditional brand theory suggests building brands for the long haul, where brand equity emerges—directly or indirectly—from consumer loyalty. But if loyalty is weakening, as some argue, this model may no longer suffice. Dan Herman (2002) explains that loyalty is diminishing because consumers continuously move on to new products and brands. The diffusion of new brands is accelerating, making brand launches easier than ever before. This trend is rooted in 20th‑century cultural, psychological, and social processes. Today’s consumers are overwhelmed with choices, driven by ambition to try, exhaust, and consume new experiences. This ambition is propelled by the Fear of Missing Out (FoMo) (Herman, 2002).

If we truly understand today’s consumers and their everyday reality, the limitations of current brand theory become clear—it does not address this new behavior. Therefore, brand theory, market research, and loyalty measurement all need radical reform.

Take children’s cartoons as an example: characters like Lilo and Stitch may last only a season or two now, unlike the longevity of Mickey Mouse or Donald Duck. In the perfume industry, brands survive mere seasons compared to legacy names like Chanel No. 5 or Poison. This fast‑paced lifecycle occurs across fashion, food, cosmetics, toys, entertainment, music, travel, fitness, technology, pharmaceuticals, and even management theory. Consumers today behave fundamentally differently than previous generations (Herman, 2002).

Herman argues that short‑term strategies must involve STBs, because Long‑Term Brands (LTBs) can no longer meet modern needs—especially the psychological and social benefits consumers seek. LTBs cater to the desire for stability, continuity, and security, while STBs address the longing for novelty, emotional arousal, intellectual stimulation, and sensual experience. STBs can be used independently or in tandem with LTBs. According to Herman (2002), STBs offer a new path to consumer loyalty through FoMo‑driven engagement. A continuous stream of new STBs (paired with LTBs) can maintain consumer excitement, continually surprising, thrilling, and spoiling them. Managing successful STBs profitably requires a new mindset and practice across every business domain—organizational structure, workflows, HR and culture, R&D, IT, production, logistics, finance, and of course, marketing (Herman, 2002).

Conclusion

The field of consumer loyalty generates intense interest in marketing circles. Today it is apparent to everyone that something is wrong with loyalty. The systems we rely on are simply no longer delivering—something isn't working as expected.

Several factors contribute to this issue:

• Consumers are becoming less loyal. Libidos decide, desires arise quickly, and instant gratification is expected. Consumers are “prostituting” themselves in the marketplace, and the system benefits—sometimes at marketers’ expense.

• We sense intuitively that technological progress and innovation do not inherently foster loyalty; rather, they can facilitate infidelity among consumers. Companies crave loyalty but continue to rely on outdated retention strategies that no longer resonate.

• The “mourning professionals” argue that marketers have been chasing a mirage all along. They believe loyalty may have never truly existed or was long since lost to rampant consumerism.

• The “ambulant experts” have not given up; instead, they are rebuilding loyalty from its ashes. They know old models no longer suffice, and they act quickly—identifying symptoms and administering immediate remediation. Their diagnostics show that defining loyalty based on behavioral patterns alone is insufficient. Marketing has forgotten the emotional human, the truly loyal consumer; market research is vital to reintroduce this understanding.

• The “third path”, pragmatic as it is, calls for rewriting brand theory—and in this rewriting, market research should take the lead.

Whichever perspective one adopts, one point remains clear:

We must confront marketing machismo, peel away the layers of marketing from marketing itself, and redefine the concept of loyalty.

Behavioral metrics alone are, or never were, sufficient measures of loyalty (and beyond). We must shift toward a deeper understanding of emotional drivers.

Only then can a new form emerge—often called “symbiotic loyalty”10—in which consumer trust is built through strong emotional connections, continuously nurtured.

From a business standpoint, this approach also enables better cost optimization—because companies will know when, where, and what to invest in loyalty—and when to disengage from unprofitable relationships.

Disagree? Good. I don’t write to be right—I write to be tested. Bring your Tenth Man view, your sharpest counterpoint, or even a quiet doubt—so long as it builds on data & insights. The most useful critique is often the one that unsettles my own thinking.

Don’t forget to subscribe for more Critical Hungary Insights!

Subscribe now

Share

Leave a comment