French politics has always been a high-wire act, but the past fifteen months have brought even seasoned observers to the edge of their seats. In a whirlwind of dissolutions, resignations, and razor-thin alliances, France’s government teeters on the brink, with Prime Minister Sébastien Lecornu’s fate and the country’s budget hanging by a thread.
The roots of this crisis run deep. On June 9, 2024, European elections upended the political landscape. The far-right Rassemblement national (RN), led by Jordan Bardella and Marine Le Pen, swept to a commanding victory, capturing over 31% of the vote—nearly 17 percentage points ahead of President Emmanuel Macron’s centrist Ensemble coalition, as reported by The Mancunion. The shockwaves were immediate. Macron, facing an emboldened opposition, dissolved the National Assembly, triggering legislative elections three years ahead of schedule.
The ensuing legislative elections, held in 2025, delivered a fragmented parliament. No party or alliance came close to the 289 seats needed for a majority. The left-wing Nouveau Front Populaire (NFP)—a coalition of Socialists, Greens, Communists, and the radical-left La France Insoumise (LFI)—secured 182 seats. Ensemble managed 168, the RN and its allies 142, and the center-right Les Républicains (LR) trailed with 46. This patchwork left the government in a perpetual state of minority, with every piece of legislation requiring delicate, often improbable, consensus.
Macron’s first move was to appoint Michel Barnier, the veteran conservative and former EU Brexit negotiator, as prime minister. Barnier cobbled together a minority government of Ensemble and LR, aiming to placate the RN by appointing immigration hardliner Bruno Retailleau as Minister of the Interior. But the olive branch failed. After just three months, Barnier invoked article 49.3 of the French constitution to force through his budget without a parliamentary vote. The maneuver backfired spectacularly. Both the NFP and the RN joined forces to pass a motion of no confidence, toppling Barnier’s government.
Next in line was François Bayrou, a close Macron ally. Bayrou’s appointment was a calculated bid to win over the center-left, especially the Socialists. He managed to pass the 2025 budget—again using article 49.3—but lost the confidence of nearly everyone else. By September, the National Assembly had voted against Bayrou’s government, forcing yet another resignation.
Enter Sébastien Lecornu. Appointed in September 2025, Lecornu’s first cabinet was panned for its resemblance to the previous lineup. Facing a storm of criticism, he resigned just hours after unveiling his team, only to be reappointed by Macron on October 21. The leadership of LR promptly voted against joining the government, shrinking Lecornu’s support base even further. According to Reuters, this sequence of events made Lecornu the shortest-serving French prime minister in modern history, clocking in at just 27 days—shorter even than the ill-fated tenure of the UK’s Liz Truss.
Lecornu now presides over a government with the direct backing of just 162 of the 577 deputies in the National Assembly. His task? To shepherd the 2026 budget through parliament, seek consensus on every bill, and somehow avoid becoming another casualty of France’s relentless political churn. It’s a herculean challenge. The RN is openly calling for the government’s collapse and fresh elections. The far-left LFI wants nothing less than Macron’s resignation. The Socialists, led by Olivier Faure, are playing hardball—demanding higher taxes on the wealthy as a condition for their support.
On October 24, the Socialist Party issued a stark ultimatum. If their demands for greater taxation of the wealthy weren’t met by Monday, October 27, they would submit a motion of no confidence. "We’ve tried not to attack the prime minister, but so far, we’ve seen no sign of willingness to compromise. If nothing changes by Monday, it’s over," Faure told Reuters. The threat is real: with the Socialists joining forces with both the far-left and far-right, Lecornu’s minority government could be toppled in a heartbeat.
Lecornu’s initial support from the Socialists was won by promising to roll back major pension reforms—a deeply contentious issue that has sparked protests and divided the nation for years. On October 21, he confirmed he would postpone further pension reform until after the 2027 presidential election. The Socialists called this delay a necessary step to avoid filing a motion of no confidence, according to The Mancunion. Still, as budget debates opened in the National Assembly on October 24, the Socialists pushed for more, leveraging their pivotal position to extract further concessions.
Meanwhile, LR has declared it will not support motions of no confidence at present, recognizing that doing so would mean blocking the budget and plunging France into even deeper uncertainty. The government’s survival, at least for now, depends on the tacit support—or at least the abstention—of both the center-left and center-right. Lecornu’s cabinet, notably stripped of political heavyweights and containing the largest number of independents since 2020, is a clear signal that he’s betting on consensus and flexibility rather than brute political force.
The broader context is hardly reassuring. France’s political crisis is unfolding against a backdrop of economic difficulties and a growing sense of disenchantment with democratic governance. The Guardian notes that this malaise is not unique to France; faith in democracy is faltering worldwide. In France, the populist right claims to offer solutions by “turning back the clock,” while Macron and his allies are under mounting pressure to chart a different path.
The stakes are enormous. Should Lecornu’s government fall, France would face yet another round of political upheaval, with no guarantee that a stable majority could be forged from the current parliamentary mosaic. The constant threat of collapse has made long-term policy planning nearly impossible and left many French citizens feeling adrift.
For now, Lecornu has managed to steady the ship, but the waters remain treacherous. The coming days—especially the looming Monday deadline—could prove decisive. With the Socialists holding the balance of power and both extremes of the political spectrum eager for change, every negotiation, every concession, and every vote counts.
In a country accustomed to political drama, the current crisis feels both unprecedented and oddly familiar. As the budget debates rage on and alliances shift by the hour, one thing is certain: the future of France’s government, and perhaps its political system itself, hangs in the balance.
