A Crisis Born of Three Questions

French President Emmanuel Macron opened a meeting with political leaders at the Élysée Palace with three direct questions: who opposes dissolving parliament, who is prepared to support the government, and who is willing to compromise. The answers left no room for illusion—the country has plunged into a profound political crisis.

In just five days, France has endured a drama unseen in years: the government of Sébastien Lecornu resigned just fourteen hours after being appointed, only to be reinstated in its previous form. By the start of the new week, the crisis remained unresolved.

Technically, the president was under no obligation to hold talks on October 10, yet he chose to lead the meeting himself. “Maybe he wants to win the Nobel Peace Prize,” one adviser joked. Invitations, sent out at two in the morning, were accepted by the opposition as a gesture of willingness to engage in dialogue. Almost all major parties in the country entered the courtyard of the Élysée Palace—except the far left and far right, who were not invited.

Before the meeting began, participants were asked to leave their phones in a separate box. Macron listened more than he spoke. The Socialists refused to support the new government; the Republicans set a condition—not to revisit pension reform. Édouard Philippe, Macron’s first prime minister, chose to remain silent. In the end, only Gabriel Attal and Marc Fesneau—both from the president’s camp—raised their hands. It became a symbol of the president’s political isolation.

In eight years in power, Macron has dismantled old alliances and alienated his partners. His decision to reinstate Lecornu—uninspiring even to his closest supporters—has reinforced accusations that he refuses to share power after his electoral defeat. The left left the meeting “completely bewildered”: all signs pointed to Lecornu’s return.

The prime minister must now persuade parliament not to topple his cabinet again and to approve multibillion-euro budget cuts. The deficit has reached 5.4% of GDP, and investors have begun to question France’s ability to service its debt: following Lecornu’s resignation, the stock index fell by 3%, bond yields rose, and the euro weakened.

Five days in October have transformed French politics and will become part of Macron’s legacy—fueling populist sentiment across Europe.

For French conservative leader Bruno Retailleau, the crisis began with silence on the line. On the day the new government was to be announced, Prime Minister Lecornu didn’t pick up the phone. After years on the sidelines, Retailleau got his chance to prove himself in September 2024, when he became interior minister in a coalition between the Republicans and Macron’s centrists. His hard-line stance on migration and economic liberalism made him the face of France’s rightward shift. Being ignored by the prime minister felt like both a personal and political humiliation.

Retailleau went to Matignon himself. His conversation with Lecornu lasted more than an hour and was repeatedly interrupted by calls from the president. In the list of ministers, he noticed a blank space next to the defence portfolio. “The president will decide that,” the prime minister replied. Later, Retailleau learned from television that the position had gone to Bruno Le Maire—a former Republican widely regarded within the party as a symbol of economic failure.

According to Lecornu’s adviser, the prime minister tried to dissuade Macron an hour before the cabinet lineup was announced. The president refused to change his mind. “An hour before Hiroshima, Hiroshima hadn’t happened yet,” the aide quipped sarcastically.

For conservatives, that was the final straw. Retailleau posted on X announcing a meeting of the party council, effectively declaring the coalition’s collapse. By morning, Lecornu had resigned. In Paris, people joked that the government had fallen because of a single tweet.

Even Macron’s closest allies admitted that the Lecornu affair had tested their limits. Gabriel Attal, leader of the president’s party, appeared visibly irritated on national television, saying he “no longer understood” the president’s decisions. Édouard Philippe, Macron’s first prime minister and now a potential rival, on Tuesday called on the president to resign after the adoption of the 2026 budget.

Unexpectedly, Élisabeth Borne, who led the government during the pension reform, declared that she now supported its suspension. “It’s important to know when to listen and when to act,” she told Le Parisien. Amid rumours that Lecornu had instructed the Economy Ministry to calculate the cost of freezing the reform, Borne’s statement looked like a signal to the Socialists.

But the meeting with them yielded no results. “Lecornu was impenetrable,” said Socialist Party secretary-general Maxime Sauvage. Another party member noted: “Macron will never appoint a prime minister from the left flank—it would be an admission of defeat for him.”

Fearing that power might shift to the left, conservatives proposed a compromise figure—former minister Jean-Louis Borloo. Macron ignored the idea. One of his allies described the situation as “walking a tightrope.” Yet for the president, such brinkmanship is nothing new. In the end, he once again gathered party leaders, made a symbolic concession on the pension issue—and reinstated Lecornu as prime minister.

Macron’s tragedy is that time has often proven him right. As early as 2017, he spoke of Europe’s need for strategic autonomy—economically and in defence. Later, he was criticised for discussing the possibility of European troops in Ukraine—a year before the formation of the Franco-British coalition. “Few leaders can think five or even two years ahead,” an EU diplomat observed. “He had that ability.”

His pension reform may also be vindicated over time, as an ageing population threatens to strain the system. But in the short term, the political chaos has been a gift to the far right.

Marine Le Pen once again declared that “the traditional parties have lost touch with reality and driven the country to the brink.” Her party is demanding snap elections, even as Le Pen herself awaits the outcome of an appeal in an embezzlement case.

Lecornu’s chances of staying in power are slim: the Socialists are threatening a vote of no confidence. If the cabinet falls, Macron will likely have to send the country back to the polls—just as populists are gaining strength across Europe. One poll found that nearly half of French voters are ready to back parties on the political fringes. The National Rally is polling at around 33% and remains the most popular party in the country.

“The Lecornu II government,” said party chairman Jordan Bardella, “is a bad joke, a democratic humiliation and a disgrace to the French people.”