Bernard Arnault, the influential leader of luxury powerhouse LVMH and France’s wealthiest citizen, has ignited a fierce debate by denouncing a proposed 2% tax on billionaires. The levy, which would apply to personal wealth exceeding 100 million euros (about A$177 million), has become a lightning rod for controversy as France’s government faces mounting pressure to address economic inequality while safeguarding the nation’s economic engine. With the Socialist Party pushing hard for its inclusion in the 2026 budget and threatening a confidence vote against Prime Minister Sébastien Lecornu if their demands aren’t met, the political stakes are as high as the fortunes at risk.
Arnault’s critique of the plan has been nothing short of blistering. In remarks published by The Sunday Times and echoed by the Australian Associated Press, Arnault called the proposed billionaire tax “clearly not a technical or economic debate, but rather a clearly stated desire to destroy the French economy.” He didn’t stop there, launching a personal attack on the tax’s architect, economist Gabriel Zucman, whom he described as “first and foremost a far-left activist” wielding “pseudo-academic competence” to push an agenda aimed at dismantling the liberal economic system. For Arnault, the stakes are existential: “The liberal economic system is the only one that works for the good of all,” he insisted, warning that the tax would threaten not just his own fortune but the broader prosperity of France.
The billionaire’s comments have added fuel to a debate that was already simmering. The Socialist Party, emboldened by a groundswell of public support, has made the tax a central plank of their economic platform. According to a September 2025 poll by Ifop commissioned by the party, a staggering 86% of French citizens approve of the proposed tax. With such overwhelming support, it’s no wonder that the Socialists are leveraging the issue as a political cudgel, warning Prime Minister Lecornu that failure to include the levy in the next budget could lead to a confidence vote—a move that might topple his government altogether.
The focus of Arnault’s ire, Gabriel Zucman, is hardly a stranger to public debate. A professor at France’s prestigious École Normale Supérieure and the University of California, Berkeley, Zucman has built his career on the study of inequality, tax evasion, and the global distribution of wealth. He was among 300 economists who publicly endorsed the economic platform of the left-wing Nouveau Front Populaire alliance ahead of the 2024 legislative elections, lending his academic gravitas to their call for a fairer tax system. Yet Zucman flatly rejects Arnault’s accusations of political activism. Responding on X (formerly Twitter), he stated, “I’ve never been an activist for any movement or party,” emphasizing that his proposals are rooted in research, not ideology.
In recent media appearances, Zucman has argued that the ultra-rich pay proportionally less tax than many other citizens—a gap that the proposed billionaire tax is designed to close. “The ultra-rich pay less, proportionally, than most people,” he’s noted, pointing out that the current system allows the wealthiest to benefit from loopholes and tax planning strategies unavailable to the average French family. The 2% levy, Zucman contends, would help level the playing field, ensuring that those at the very top contribute their fair share to the public coffers.
Arnault, however, remains unconvinced. He insists that such a tax would do more harm than good, scaring off investment and damaging France’s reputation as a destination for innovation and luxury. “This is an assault on France’s economy,” he told The Sunday Times, suggesting that the proposal is less about fiscal responsibility and more about ideological warfare. For Arnault and many in the business community, the specter of a billionaire tax conjures fears of capital flight and job losses, as wealthy individuals and companies consider moving their assets—and operations—abroad.
Prime Minister Sébastien Lecornu finds himself caught between these two powerful forces. On the one hand, he faces the wrath of France’s business elite, who warn of dire economic consequences if the tax is enacted. On the other, he must answer to a public that appears overwhelmingly in favor of making the ultra-wealthy pay more. For Lecornu, the challenge is as much about political survival as it is about economic stewardship. The Socialist Party’s threat of a confidence vote is no idle gesture; failure to heed their demands could cost him his job and plunge the government into crisis.
Public sentiment, at least for now, is firmly on the side of the tax’s proponents. The Ifop poll’s 86% approval figure is a striking indicator of just how deeply the issue of wealth inequality resonates with the French public. In a country with a proud tradition of egalitarianism, the idea of asking billionaires to shoulder more of the nation’s tax burden has undeniable appeal. For many, it’s a question of fairness—why should those with the most pay proportionally less?
Yet the debate is about more than just numbers. It’s a clash of philosophies: Should France double down on its liberal economic model, as Arnault urges, or chart a new course toward greater redistribution, as Zucman and the Socialists advocate? The answer could reshape not just the country’s tax code, but its very identity. France has long wrestled with how to balance its entrepreneurial spirit with its commitment to social justice, and the outcome of this debate may well set the tone for years to come.
For Zucman, the stakes are clear. “My work is grounded in research, not ideology,” he reiterated, pushing back against attempts to paint him as a partisan. His research, echoed by hundreds of fellow economists, suggests that the current system is tilted in favor of the ultra-rich—a disparity that, left unchecked, could undermine social cohesion and trust in government. The billionaire tax, he argues, is a necessary corrective, one that would bring France closer to the ideals of equality and solidarity that have defined its political culture for centuries.
As the 2026 budget deadline looms, all eyes are on the French parliament. Will Lecornu bow to pressure from the Socialists and the public, or will he side with business leaders like Arnault and risk a political showdown? The answer will reverberate far beyond France’s borders, offering a test case for other countries grappling with similar questions about wealth, fairness, and the future of capitalism.
With passions running high and the stakes even higher, France stands at a crossroads. The outcome of this debate will not only determine the fate of a controversial tax, but could also reshape the nation’s economic and political landscape for a generation.
