“Ungovernable!” read Le Parisien’s front page. “An earthquake”, declared Ouest France. The voters “have delivered us a flat pack without an instruction manual”, said Europe minister Clément Beaune. The cause of all the angst? A parliamentary election that left President Emmanuel Macron without an overall majority.
What the French call ungovernability, the rest of Europe calls politics. But in a system designed to ensure a strong executive and a parliament that does what it is told, the prospect of government ministers having to hustle for votes on the floor of the National Assembly appals the Élysée and thrills the opposition. A political culture that has never required its leaders to compromise is in new territory.
The result was a stunning reversal for Macron, who just last month swept to a second term as president, his new mandate giving him renewed authority at home and abroad. Last Sunday, his majority vanished and with it went that aura. Macron’s Ensemble alliance won only 245 seats out of 577 in the lower house. It’s the smallest share of seats for a winning party since 1958 and means Macron’s agenda is now in jeopardy.
[ Macron faces uphill battle in talks with leaders after losing majorityOpens in new window ]
When Charles de Gaulle designed the political institutions of the fifth Republic in the 1950s, at a time when France was at risk of civil war, he prized stability above all else. The electoral system of second-round run-offs edged out smaller parties and strengthen the already vast executive powers of the president. When a brief flirtation with proportional representation in the 1980s resulted in Jean-Marie Le Pen’s far-right National Front making a breakthrough, it was promptly reversed. But the more that French politics fractured, the more undemocratic the assembly looked. And with the collapse of the old duopoly — the Socialist Party and the centre-right — that alternated power for the past 60 years, and a surge in support for radicals at both ends of the spectrum, it raised real questions of legitimacy.
Janan Ganesh: Elon Musk is wasted in the US – but he might shock Europe into changing its ways
Peter Pan review: Gaiety panto takes off with dizzying ensemble numbers and breathtaking effects
Lebanon ceasefire: ‘We have no windows, no doors but we can live. Not like other people’
Sally Rooney: When are we going to have the courage to stop the climate crisis?
The new assembly is much more representative of France’s splintered politics. The surge in seat numbers for Marine Le Pen’s far-right Rassemblement National, which went from eight to 89 and is now the largest single opposition party, has caused widespread alarm. But the party’s long-time de facto exclusion from the assembly had allowed Le Pen to play the martyr. If the experience of the European Parliament is anything to go by, the party will use its presence in parliament more as a platform for its fiery sanctimony than as a place where it can shape legislation to improve people’s lives.
More seats in parliament is no guarantee of future gains, as the hard-right Alternative für Deutschland has found on the other side of the Rhine. The new assembly is also more representative of France itself. The wave of new deputes who rode the Macron wave of 2017 were for the most part highly educated and middle-class. Among the new intake are a hotel chambermaid, a 21-year-old student, three police officers, a carer for older people, a supermarket cleaner and a 29-year-old delivery driver.
[ We can find a new majority, Macron says after losing control of French parliamentOpens in new window ]
For the Government in Dublin, which since Brexit has been working hard to build closer relationships with Paris as well as Berlin, the result is unlikely to disrupt recent progress. The axis of influential ministers who the Government sees as attuned to Irish issues — including Beaune and finance minister Bruno Le Máire — are likely to remain in government. The traditional issue of contention between the two capitals — corporate tax — has for now been taken off the table by the joint push to adopt a minimum 15 per cent rate. And some of the most interesting developing relationships are happening at regional level anyway.
Trade between Ireland and France booming, post-pandemic tourism has picked up again and the dramatic rise in the number of direct weekly ferry crossings — from 12 just two years ago to 40 today — tells its own story about the shift in Ireland’s strategic orientation since Brexit. The Irish presence is especially visible in Brittany and Normandy; a noteworthy visit to Ireland this week was that of Hervé Morin, a former government minister and now president of the Normandy region, who is interested in new air and port connections between his region and Ireland as well as research links and educational exchanges.
Still, Macron’s new domestic troubles are bound to have an effect on his international activity, even if under the constitution he retains sole control over defence and foreign policy. Constant uncertainty over his reform agenda at home will inevitably leave him with less time and energy to devote to the outside world. For those who think what Europe needs is less Macron, not more, his absences won’t be regretted. Everyone else will hope that Macron, faced now with the real prospect of five years of gridlock — and, ultimately, failure — at home will see Europe as the only place where he can leave a legacy.