France Isn’t Falling Apart After the Elections, But It Faces a Challenging Future

The recent second round of elections to the National Assembly (the French Parliament) has drawn attention in the Czech Republic to developments in France. Although France is a nuclear power, it is somewhat unjustly overlooked here. This is partly because France isn’t our immediate neighbor, and French—a Romance language—can be challenging to learn, especially compared to global English, which even dominates many former French colonies. On the other hand, France still boasts the EU’s most powerful military, has undeniable influence in European institutions, and has made significant investments in the Czech Republic. For instance, one of the largest foreign investments here was the 2002 establishment of an automotive plant near Kolín by the French carmakers PSA Peugeot Citroën and Japan’s Toyota. Additionally, our military is currently planning its future artillery around the French self-propelled howitzer CAESAR and TITUS vehicles—a joint venture between the French company NEXTER and Czech Tatra. Our ties with France may soon deepen even further; the French energy giant EDF is a leading contender for the construction of new nuclear reactors here, which is certainly reason enough to pay close attention to the direction France is heading.

The outlook after yesterday’s announcement of preliminary second-round results isn’t very optimistic, but it mirrors a trend seen across Europe: centrist liberal parties are significantly losing ground to extremes on both the left and the right. This first impression, however, is rather simplistic, as the political center as we knew it has essentially vanished—mostly due to its own failings. Political scientists rarely agree on much, but they generally recognize this trend, which can be traced back to the beginning of the 21st century in Europe. The shift is often attributed to the radicalization of voters, who observed politicians mishandling the 2008–2009 economic crisis, the massive migration crisis starting in 2014 as a consequence of the much-celebrated but geopolitically disastrous “Arab Spring,” and the internal failings of traditional parties—rampant corruption, Europe’s lag in global economic competitiveness, and an inability to adapt to new technologies that have changed how politicians engage with voters.

In addition to these well-known factors, I believe a fundamental change lies in the ideological emptiness that has overtaken politics. Unlike in the past, when politics represented a struggle to promote a worldview—left-wing or right-wing—today, it has become merely a vehicle for gaining and retaining power. I see the turning point as Tony Blair’s “broad appeal” strategy with Labour in the May 1997 election, where he suppressed certain core left-wing elements within his party, ending 18 years of Conservative rule. In today’s politics, the goal is to promise everything to everyone and avoid clear opinions that might be used against you later. Last week, Marek Španěl provided a brilliant example of this by posting a 2014 speech by Petr Fiala from an ODS congress on his X account without naming the author. He received severe criticism from supporters of the current prime minister. Today’s political slogan (a type of populism perfected by Angela Merkel) is to speak in pleasant, universal phrases that appeal to everyone—while being careful not to express anything that might be considered an opinion or offend anyone.

If centrist politicians—whether liberal or conservative—have blurred the focus of their parties, failed to solve recurring issues, or even created new problems through inaction or poor decisions, it is only logical that voters turn to simple solutions, whether left-wing or right-wing, based on their own inclinations. Compared to the cautious, all-encompassing, and vague mainstream, such solutions are inevitably perceived as extreme.

Returning to France, the political landscape there is quite unique. It’s actually challenging to identify a truly conservative, right-wing party. Considering both their platforms and actions, French political options mostly consist of various shades of socialist parties. Labels such as centrist, socialist, or far-right no longer describe the intentions or actions of French political actors but instead reflect media biases and whom they favor or dislike. For example, it’s almost laughable to see every mention of Marine Le Pen’s National Rally labeled “far-right,” while the genuinely extreme Jean-Luc Mélenchon of France Unbowed is merely called “left-wing.” If we set aside simplistic labels that primarily serve to tarnish political opponents, we’re left with a messy stew—or, since we’re in France, a bouillabaisse.

After Macron’s movement Renaissance (essentially a service organization for Macron rather than a traditional political party) suffered a crushing defeat in the European Parliament elections with half the votes of Marine Le Pen’s National Rally, Macron took a gamble by calling early national elections. What followed was typical of recent years: high first-round support for Marine Le Pen’s National Rally, followed by a second-round coalition of all other parties united against her under the pretext of averting a far-right takeover. This narrative is dutifully echoed by celebrities and media, including those abroad. In practical terms, it means rival candidates step aside and unite against Le Pen’s party. The result, as expected after such mass mobilization, is that the National Rally fails to repeat its first-round success, and another party emerges victorious. Now the interesting part: who exactly is the winner? According to election charts, it’s the New People’s Front. However, this isn’t a single political party but a pre-election coalition of left-wing parties. Calling it a coalition is a stretch; it’s more like a bag of fleas, ranging from the moderate Socialist Party, extremist ecologists, and the French Communists to the far-left France Unbowed. And these are just the four largest; there are sixteen additional often obscure parties, along with those that “only” support them. This coalition’s extreme nature is evident from a few highlights of their program and public statements: open anti-Semitism and support for Palestinian terrorists, withdrawing France from NATO, instituting a four-day workweek and raising the minimum wage despite record debt, sharply increasing taxes, reducing aid to Ukraine, and sympathy for Russian aggression. Notably, Jean-Luc Mélenchon of France Unbowed praised Russia’s annexation of Crimea. After the preliminary election results, Mélenchon declared victory as though France Unbowed had won the election, immediately making demands that essentially paralyze any potential government, as the New People’s Front lacks a parliamentary majority to govern alone.

I’ll allow myself a brief historical detour that sheds light on what to expect from this coalition. The New People’s Front traces its roots to the Popular Front—a coalition of French left-wing parties (including communists) that won the 1936 National Assembly elections under similar arguments against fascism. The aftermath is well-known: appeasing aggressors on the international stage, culminating in the shameful Munich Agreement, and destroying the French economy and political stability to the point that Nazi Germany, seemingly much weaker on paper, swallowed this military and colonial power in 1940 with ease.

The second-largest bloc is Renaissance, but they lack the numbers to govern alone. Here, it will be seen whether Macron’s call for early elections was reckless or a masterstroke to secure parliamentary support until his presidential term ends. His first move, rejecting the resignation of his prime minister Gabriel Attal—a step Mélenchon immediately demanded—suggests Macron is strategizing. Next, the New People’s Front’s seat distribution will be crucial; Mélenchon’s extremism may allow other coalition parties to side with Renaissance and the Republicans on certain issues, especially if Macron can convince them that such cooperation benefits their members across various public offices. If he succeeds, Macron will prove himself a political genius, retaining power even at a moment of extreme unpopularity. The option of a technocratic government exists but lacks precedent in France, and the country would be highly dysfunctional. There’s zero chance of support from Marine Le Pen, not even on individual votes; Macron’s alliance with the extreme left in this election has left considerable bitterness, but the more chaotic France becomes—whether under a leftist government or in the absence of a functional one—the greater Le Pen’s chances of success in the 2027 presidential election.

In the long term, irrespective of Macron’s ability to retain parliamentary support, France faces challenging times. The unresolved economic situation, mass illegal migration, deteriorating security, anti-Semitic attacks, and the emigration of French Jews to safer countries all signal deepening crises with no foreseeable solutions.

For the Czech Republic, it will be important to monitor developments in France—not only due to France’s influence within the EU but also for strategic decisions such as nuclear projects and major defense contracts. These decisions have not only economic but also strategic security implications. We must think not in terms of years but decades, and for that, we need a partner who is predictable and shares our worldview.

On a personal note, I would like to see the media—especially public broadcasters—take a more measured approach to oversimplified and often misleading labels. I am not defending Marine Le Pen; there are still unresolved questions about past Russian bank financing for her movement. But if the media were unbiased, they would acknowledge that the New People’s Front is far more extreme in terms of economic plans, foreign policy, and relations with Russia than the supposedly “far-right” faction everyone fears.