In extremis, just a few days before Christmas, the new French PM François Bayrou managed to form his government. Scepticism reigns as to his ability to stay in office for long. And with good reason. The crisis triggered by Emmanuel Macron’s decision to dissolve the national assembly following the European elections in June 2024 is still not over.
The parliamentary elections in the summer of 2024 resulted in three blocks of almost equal size in the French national assembly: a left-wing coalition, which came out on top by a few seats thanks to the effects of the ballot system, but was in the minority in terms of votes; a bloc of the national Right, made up of the Rassemblement National (RN) and its allies, which failed to win the National Assembly but came out on top in the French vote with 11 million voters; and a centrist conglomerate around the presidential camp, which was also unable to form a solid majority.
In these conditions, putting together a solid government is a real challenge. It took two months before former European Commissioner Michel Barnier was appointed prime minister in September. Reputed to be a man of consensus, he was nonetheless toppled by a motion of no confidence in December, having failed to present a budget capable of rallying a majority of MPs—for the first time in sixty years.
His successor, the centrist François Bayrou, was chosen for his ability to avoid offending anyone. His first steps at the head of the government have left the French perplexed: while the department of Mayotte is in the grip of an unprecedented natural disaster, he is prioritising the interests of the little town of Pau, of which he remains mayor, and forgetting that the overseas territories are an integral part of the French nation. No one knows where he is going or how he wants to get there. Does he know himself?
The team he has managed to put together around him is far from enthusiastic. It is a clumsy recycling of personalities who have been frolicking in the swamp of French political life for decades without achieving any convincing results, around a centrist credo with ill-defined contours. The centre dominates but is conspicuous by its immobility. The French are witnessing, dumbfounded, the return of old political veterans known for their opportunism and lack of backbone: Manuel Valls, former interior minister under socialist president François Hollande, who for a time tried to recycle himself in Spanish politics—without success; Élisabeth Borne, former prime minister sadly associated in the minds of the French with the chaos linked to pension reform; François Rebsamen, also a former minister under François Hollande. And of course, Prime Minister François Bayrou himself, who can boast of having been a minister dozens of times and of having no record whatsoever. Such a line-up is not convincing to anyone, Right or Left. “We were expecting Christmas Eve, but what we got was the night of the living dead,” commented Olivier Faure, first secretary of the socialist party. Some observers on the Right are pleased with the tandem formed by Interior Minister Bruno Retailleau, who was already present alongside Michel Barnier in the previous government, and Justice Minister Gérald Darmanin, who occupied the interior ministry before the elections. But what is there to celebrate? Both men are known for their tough talk on security and immigration issues, but again without any convincing results.
For the time being, it is disarray that dominates the French political class, but also public opinion, which doubts more than ever the ability of its leaders to lead it safely through the reefs the country is traversing. Already half of the French believe—and wish—Bayrou will be toppled within a few weeks. In the absence of a budget, the state is navigating by sight, with a special law that has to be voted on monthly until an overall agreement is reached. If the French economy is in bad shape, French political life is a field of ruins. The stifling reign of a limp, pallid centre that convinces no one is completing the discrediting of elections, which now seem more futile than ever. What’s the point of voting if every ballot is bound to bring back to power the same personalities who, for thirty years, have been stubbornly ruining the country?
Yet the outlook is simple: President Macron bears overwhelming responsibility for the chaos, and only his resignation could change things. But the legislature is blocked as it stands until next summer. Even in the event of new presidential elections, a new dissolution is not possible. Long months will therefore pass without any serious legislative work being possible.
In these conditions, some voices are calling for a new constitution. The creation of a sixth republic is an old fantasy of the Left that is resurfacing on this occasion. The belief in constitutional reform as a universal remedy is a curse that has hung over France since the French Revolution. The French are under the illusion that changing their constitution will miraculously solve all their problems. France has had no fewer than fifteen constitutions since 1791. But the country, a headless body deprived of its king, is still wandering in the fog. A semblance of stability was achieved with the constitution of the fifth republic devised by General de Gaulle in 1958. However, in order to function according to the French constitutional tradition inspired by the legacy of monarchy, it required real statesmen and a monarchical approach to power. The seven-year presidential term was thought to implement long-term policies. Being uncoupled from the legislative term, it was supposed to help the chief of state distance himself from the electoral battle. In 2000, the introduction of the five-year term of office upset this balance, forcing the president to become just another politician, concerned only with his own survival. Macron is the pure product of such an evolution. At the dawn of the New Year, a time usually marked by hope and renewal, France is plunged into an atmosphere of the end of the world.