Let us stay with football for a moment longer. I would like to begin the Conclusion as I have the Introduction, with an allusion to the best-known Central European illiberal leader's penchant for the game. The Hungarian journalist, Pál Dániel Rényi, wrote a whole book on it, claiming that Orbán's view of football was the same as his vision of politics. ‘Orbán has never been a fan in the traditional sense’, writes Rényi,

This was not Orbán's own world, as Rényi makes clear; it was the world he created for his fans. With this kind of mentality, every victory by the leader is cheered by his followers, with little thought given to how it benefits them. He plays the strings of their beliefs and memories; he offers a community of affect at a time of great dislocation. Orbán became a master at this political game, unlike any in Central Europe or even Europe as a whole. But the false consciousness that illiberalism creates is systemic, not personal. In the end, the shared symbols, the unconditional, unthinking, seemingly eternal loyalty are to, as Liz Fekete put it, one's own kith and kin, more than any charismatic leader who can facilitate it. The focus in this book has been on the triumphant rise of illiberalism in Central Europe, between the ‘European migration ciris’ of 2015–16, and the efforts of the opposition that gained visibility in late 2021. The illiberal revolt that Orbán and Kaczynski helped to unleash will, however, likely remain a powerful force for much of this century, and long after they are gone, because in the end illiberalism responds to global and local forces that are much more consequential than the personal whims of any individual, no matter how influential.