Or it could try to change the EU from within—which would be worse, reckons Jean Pisani-Ferry.
IN 2017 EMMANUEL MACRON crushed Marine Le Pen in the second round of the French presidential election, taking 66% of the votes. In 2022 he defeated her more narrowly, but still comfortably, with 59%. Yet following the dissolution of the National Assembly, France’s parliament, his centrist party and its allies are now estimated to have the support of just 21% of the electorate, against 29% for the left-wing alliance known as the New Popular Front (NPF) and 37% for Ms Le Pen’s hard-right National Rally (RN).
In his acceptance speech after being re-elected in 2022, Mr Macron said he had understood the message of French voters. But having failed to build alliances ahead of the general elections that followed, he did not secure a majority in parliament. Afterwards, he struggled to push through divisive reforms of the pension system and the immigration regime, alienating centre-left voters without satisfying those on the right.
Though he successfully used deficit-financed subsidies to limit the inflationary consequences of the energy-price shock, people resented the stagnation of purchasing power and the erosion of their savings. Anger about this—and also about Mr Macron’s Jupiterian style of government—translated into a dismal performance for his list in the European Parliament elections earlier this month, which in turn prompted the president’s decision to call snap elections.
There are, however, deeper reasons for Mr Macron’s failure to garner support and fulfil his promise in 2017 to ensure that French people would no longer have a reason to vote for the extremes. Although the French economy performed rather well relative to its peers, the unemployment rate fell significantly and the covid crisis was skilfully managed, voters did not perceive a material improvement in their own situation. Purchasing power still ranks first among their concerns.
According to a large-sample survey in late 2023, more than 80% of French people believe that their country is in decline and 45% describe themselves as “angry”. This entrenched pessimism was the reason why Mr Macron got elected in 2017. His reading of the state of French society was that the proper response was to create opportunities rather than redistribute income. This is why he scrapped the wealth tax introduced by the centre-left in the late 1980s (except for real-estate assets) and replaced the progressive taxation of capital income with a flat tax.
However, despite initiatives to increase social mobility, such as the doubling of the teacher-to-pupil ratio in the elementary schools of the banlieues or the reform of vocational training, his staunch refusal to consider increasing taxes on the wealthy earned him the nickname “president of the rich”.
The former investment banker failed to understand that he had to show he cared about fairness.
The programmes of the three blocs now competing in the general election are very different from each other. The NPF coalition envisions increasing public spending by €150bn ($160bn), or around 4.5% of GDP, by 2027—financed by €150bn in new taxes. With public spending at 57% of GDP in 2023, the highest ratio in the EU, this tax-and-spend programme, if implemented, would push the country into uncharted fiscal territory.
The NPF also plans to raise the minimum wage by 14% in its first few months in office. Although such increases have been implemented in other countries and have proved effective, the French situation is special, with a particularly compressed distribution of wages. A further increase of the minimum wage, especially if sudden, would compress it further—and feel like a demotion to many wage-earners. It might even trigger an inflationary spiral.
The programme of the centrist coalition, whose leader is the current prime minister, Gabriel Attal, envisions tax breaks on wage increases, means-tested subsidies for acquiring electric vehicles and the elimination of stamp duty for first-time homebuyers. It spices up but does not dramatically depart from the Macronist strategy.
Despite being the front-runner and having a serious chance of seeing its candidate, Jordan Bardella, appointed prime minister, the RN does not have a fully fledged economic programme. In a recent hearing before the employers’ association, Mr Bardella was cautious, arguing that the state of public finances does not leave room for fiscal profligacy.
He nevertheless promised to lower the value-added-tax rate on energy products, to exempt wage increases from social-security contributions (within limits) and to make it possible for employees who entered the labour force before the age of 20 to retire after having contributed for 40 years. As matching revenues are conspicuously absent, implementing this programme would certainly trigger a fight with Brussels.
The problem with the RN is not its fiscal strategy, however. It is its pro-Russian stance, its deeply nationalist posture and its aversion to climate action. Mr Bardella has indicated his intention to opt out of European electricity-market rules, to apply a national preference to public procurement and to renegotiate France’s net contribution to the EU budget. This may be only the tip of the iceberg. In 2022 Ms Le Pen said that, if elected, she would call a referendum to establish the primacy of the French constitution over European law—a reversal of the current legal hierarchy.
If Mr Bardella becomes prime minister, he will face a strategic choice between dissent and influence. Even though Mr Macron will remain president and continue to sit in the European Council, the EU’s top institution, the machinery of French policymaking vis-à-vis Europe will be under Mr Bardella’s control. He could embark on a guerrilla war against the president. Building on the strength of other extreme-right parties, the RN could alternatively try to transform the EU from the inside.
With several of the bloc’s countries governed by the hard right, it would command a blocking minority in the EU Council of Ministers. It could use it to steer the course of European policy, especially by obstructing assistance to Ukraine and by impeding EU enlargement. This alternative strategy would avoid isolating France, but it would have much worse implications for Europe. ■
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Jean Pisani-Ferry is a fellow at Bruegel, a think-tank in Brussels, and at the Peterson Institute for International Economics in Washington, DC.
Illustration: Dan Williams
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