Last week, French Prime Minister Michel Barnier faced parliament defiantly. Despite lacking a majority, he tried to push through controversial reforms using Article 49.3 of the Constitution – a mechanism allowing the government to bypass parliamentary votes.
He paid a heavy price for his defiance. In an unprecedented move, an unlikely coalition of left and right-wing parties united to pass a vote of no confidence, bringing down his government and plunging France into a constitutional crisis.
This scene has played out only once before. In 1962, when Georges Pompidou’s government met the same fate.
That France has experienced only two successful no-confidence votes in the 66 years of its Fifth Republic tells us something about the gravity of the current situation. The parallels between the two incidents are striking, but the differences are even more telling.
In 1962, President Charles de Gaulle was barely three years into his presidency and at the height of his authority. He turned crisis into opportunity. He dissolved parliament and secured a majority in fresh elections. He also won approval for constitutional reforms establishing direct presidential elections. De Gaulle remained a powerful president for another seven years.
Emmanuel Macron faces a radically different scenario. Two-and-a-half years into his second and final term, he is increasingly a lame duck president. His decision to call snap parliamentary elections last June backfired spectacularly, leaving France with a three-way split between his centrist alliance, Marine Le Pen’s nationalist right, and Jean-Luc Mélenchon’s radical left. Macron’s approval rating has plummeted to an abysmal 23%.
The fall of Barnier’s government reflects France’s new political impasse. Barnier, who previously served as the EU’s Brexit negotiator, attempted to tackle France’s mounting fiscal challenges through the proposed Social Security budget.
With public debt at 112% of GDP and a deficit exceeding 6%, a combination of spending cuts and tax increases were aimed at reducing the shortfall to 5%. The government’s plan included controversial measures: cuts to pension benefits, reduced funding for local governments and higher taxes on both corporations and high earners.
But France’s fragmented parliament made that impossible. When Barnier invoked Article 49.3 to force through the budget without a vote – the same mechanism that sparked protests when it was used for pension reforms last year – Le Pen’s National Rally and Mélenchon’s left-wing coalition put aside their profound ideological differences to bring down the government.
The economic consequences of the crisis were immediate. French government bond yields briefly surpassed Greek ones – a development that would have been unthinkable just months ago. The spread between French and German bonds, a key indicator of market confidence, also widened significantly. International investors increasingly view French assets through the lens of political risk rather than economic fundamentals.
That is not to say that France’s fundamentals are sound. This financial market reaction also reflects deeper structural problems in the French economy. Despite Macron’s early successes in liberalising labour laws and attracting foreign investment, France’s public sector remains bloated, its tax burden among Europe’s highest and its competitiveness questionable. The reforms needed to address these issues now seem politically impossible.
Le Pen senses her moment. She has spent years moderating her party’s image and distancing it from extremist allies – most recently ejecting Germany’s AfD from their European Parliament grouping. Now she is a credible contender for power. Her 28-year-old protégé, Jordan Bardella, stands ready as a potential prime minister, though he insists he would only serve if the party won an absolute majority.
Unlike in previous cycles, Le Pen no longer advocates France’s exit from the euro or the European Union. Instead, she focuses on cost-of-living issues while maintaining a hardline stance on immigration. This strategic moderation has paid off: polls suggest her party leads voting intentions for the 2027 presidential election.
The timing of this political crisis could hardly be worse. Investment bank Berenberg forecasts that France will significantly underperform the eurozone average in coming years. It has revised growth projections downward to 0.5% for 2025 and 1.0% for 2026.
The crisis also exposes the limitations of France’s institutional framework. Unlike de Gaulle in 1962, Macron cannot dissolve parliament again until July 2025. Constitutional rules prevent him from doing so within a year of the last election.
Macron only has one realistic option left – to appoint a new prime minister. But any new government will face the same fractured parliament as Barnier. Of course, Macron might also attempt to build a broader coalition, but neither the far left nor the far right have any interest in helping Macron out.
The current crisis arrives after decades of failed attempts to reform France’s political institutions. Presidents from François Mitterrand to Jacques Chirac proposed various constitutional reforms to address the system’s rigidities. Mitterrand advocated for a more parliamentary system before abandoning the idea once in power.
Chirac’s 2000 referendum to reduce the presidential term from seven to five years passed but failed to address the underlying institutional tensions between the President and parliament. Nicolas Sarkozy’s more ambitious 2008 reforms then strengthened parliament’s role but left intact the fundamental imbalances of the Fifth Republic.
All these attempts at reform shared a common flaw: they were designed by presidents seeking to preserve their own authority while making minimal concessions to democratic accountability.
France’s Fifth Republic was designed in, and for, a different era. Its constitution assumed strong presidents could always build parliamentary majorities and implement decisive reforms. This worked when French politics was dominated by two main blocs. Today’s three-way split between left, right and centre has exposed the system’s limitations.
What saved the Fifth Republic in 1962 may break it in 2024. De Gaulle emerged from his crisis with enhanced authority and a clear mandate for reform. Macron, by contrast, finds himself trapped in a constitutional framework that assumes presidential authority but no longer delivers it.
The French have long said that their presidents must be elected as tribunes but govern as monarchs. De Gaulle embodied this principle. Macron, meanwhile, is now neither a tribune nor a monarch, but a lame duck.
Dr Oliver Hartwich is the Executive Director of The New Zealand Initiative think tank. This article was first published HERE.
That France has experienced only two successful no-confidence votes in the 66 years of its Fifth Republic tells us something about the gravity of the current situation. The parallels between the two incidents are striking, but the differences are even more telling.
In 1962, President Charles de Gaulle was barely three years into his presidency and at the height of his authority. He turned crisis into opportunity. He dissolved parliament and secured a majority in fresh elections. He also won approval for constitutional reforms establishing direct presidential elections. De Gaulle remained a powerful president for another seven years.
Emmanuel Macron faces a radically different scenario. Two-and-a-half years into his second and final term, he is increasingly a lame duck president. His decision to call snap parliamentary elections last June backfired spectacularly, leaving France with a three-way split between his centrist alliance, Marine Le Pen’s nationalist right, and Jean-Luc Mélenchon’s radical left. Macron’s approval rating has plummeted to an abysmal 23%.
The fall of Barnier’s government reflects France’s new political impasse. Barnier, who previously served as the EU’s Brexit negotiator, attempted to tackle France’s mounting fiscal challenges through the proposed Social Security budget.
With public debt at 112% of GDP and a deficit exceeding 6%, a combination of spending cuts and tax increases were aimed at reducing the shortfall to 5%. The government’s plan included controversial measures: cuts to pension benefits, reduced funding for local governments and higher taxes on both corporations and high earners.
But France’s fragmented parliament made that impossible. When Barnier invoked Article 49.3 to force through the budget without a vote – the same mechanism that sparked protests when it was used for pension reforms last year – Le Pen’s National Rally and Mélenchon’s left-wing coalition put aside their profound ideological differences to bring down the government.
The economic consequences of the crisis were immediate. French government bond yields briefly surpassed Greek ones – a development that would have been unthinkable just months ago. The spread between French and German bonds, a key indicator of market confidence, also widened significantly. International investors increasingly view French assets through the lens of political risk rather than economic fundamentals.
That is not to say that France’s fundamentals are sound. This financial market reaction also reflects deeper structural problems in the French economy. Despite Macron’s early successes in liberalising labour laws and attracting foreign investment, France’s public sector remains bloated, its tax burden among Europe’s highest and its competitiveness questionable. The reforms needed to address these issues now seem politically impossible.
Le Pen senses her moment. She has spent years moderating her party’s image and distancing it from extremist allies – most recently ejecting Germany’s AfD from their European Parliament grouping. Now she is a credible contender for power. Her 28-year-old protégé, Jordan Bardella, stands ready as a potential prime minister, though he insists he would only serve if the party won an absolute majority.
Unlike in previous cycles, Le Pen no longer advocates France’s exit from the euro or the European Union. Instead, she focuses on cost-of-living issues while maintaining a hardline stance on immigration. This strategic moderation has paid off: polls suggest her party leads voting intentions for the 2027 presidential election.
The timing of this political crisis could hardly be worse. Investment bank Berenberg forecasts that France will significantly underperform the eurozone average in coming years. It has revised growth projections downward to 0.5% for 2025 and 1.0% for 2026.
The crisis also exposes the limitations of France’s institutional framework. Unlike de Gaulle in 1962, Macron cannot dissolve parliament again until July 2025. Constitutional rules prevent him from doing so within a year of the last election.
Macron only has one realistic option left – to appoint a new prime minister. But any new government will face the same fractured parliament as Barnier. Of course, Macron might also attempt to build a broader coalition, but neither the far left nor the far right have any interest in helping Macron out.
The current crisis arrives after decades of failed attempts to reform France’s political institutions. Presidents from François Mitterrand to Jacques Chirac proposed various constitutional reforms to address the system’s rigidities. Mitterrand advocated for a more parliamentary system before abandoning the idea once in power.
Chirac’s 2000 referendum to reduce the presidential term from seven to five years passed but failed to address the underlying institutional tensions between the President and parliament. Nicolas Sarkozy’s more ambitious 2008 reforms then strengthened parliament’s role but left intact the fundamental imbalances of the Fifth Republic.
All these attempts at reform shared a common flaw: they were designed by presidents seeking to preserve their own authority while making minimal concessions to democratic accountability.
France’s Fifth Republic was designed in, and for, a different era. Its constitution assumed strong presidents could always build parliamentary majorities and implement decisive reforms. This worked when French politics was dominated by two main blocs. Today’s three-way split between left, right and centre has exposed the system’s limitations.
What saved the Fifth Republic in 1962 may break it in 2024. De Gaulle emerged from his crisis with enhanced authority and a clear mandate for reform. Macron, by contrast, finds himself trapped in a constitutional framework that assumes presidential authority but no longer delivers it.
The French have long said that their presidents must be elected as tribunes but govern as monarchs. De Gaulle embodied this principle. Macron, meanwhile, is now neither a tribune nor a monarch, but a lame duck.
Dr Oliver Hartwich is the Executive Director of The New Zealand Initiative think tank. This article was first published HERE.
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