In a whirlwind month for French politics, Prime Minister Sébastien Lecornu has become a symbol of the country’s deepening governmental crisis, resigning, returning, and narrowly surviving a no-confidence vote in the span of just ten days. The saga, which unfolded between late September and mid-October 2025, has exposed not only the fragility of President Emmanuel Macron’s grip on power but also the profound malaise gripping France’s political system.
According to The UnPopulist, the drama began on September 9, 2025, when President Macron appointed Lecornu, then Minister of the Armed Forces, as prime minister following the collapse of François Bayrou’s government. But Lecornu’s first stint in office would be shockingly brief: his coalition unraveled within just 14 hours after fierce criticism from conservative leader Bruno Retailleau, making it the shortest-lived government in modern French history. Lecornu resigned after only 26 days in office on October 6. Yet, in a move that stunned many, Macron reappointed him just four days later, hoping to stabilize a parliament riven by bitter ideological divides.
This desperate maneuver reflected the president’s increasingly precarious position. Macron’s approval ratings have tumbled to just 14%, as reported by Palatinate, and his centrist alliance has been forced to govern without a majority in the National Assembly since 2022. The chamber is now split into three antagonistic blocs: Marine Le Pen’s far-right National Rally, Jean-Luc Mélenchon’s radical left France Unbowed, and Macron’s own centrists. The result? Paralysis and gridlock.
Both the far right and radical left quickly tabled no-confidence motions against Lecornu’s fledgling minority government. But without the backing of the Socialist Party, neither effort could topple the administration. The closest call came from France Unbowed, whose motion fell just 18 votes short of the 289 needed. The reason for Lecornu’s survival? Strategic concessions to the Socialists, including a promise to freeze Macron’s highly unpopular pension reform—which had raised the retirement age from 62 to 64 and sparked mass protests—and a pledge to end the controversial 49:3 mechanism that allows laws to bypass parliamentary votes. As Socialist deputy Boris Vallaud put it, the suspension of the pension reform was a “victory,” and his party’s refusal to support the no-confidence motions effectively saved Lecornu’s government.
Yet this fragile reprieve has only underscored the broader dysfunction. France has now cycled through five prime ministers in two years and seven governments since Macron’s first presidential victory in 2017. The leftist coalition, known as NUPES, is fracturing under the weight of divisions between the Socialists, Greens, and France Unbowed. Meanwhile, the so-called “common basis” coalition that once united the center-right Republicans, centrists, and Macronists has imploded, leaving the president with few reliable partners.
Macron’s refusal to pursue a formal cohabitation with either the far right or the social-democratic left has only deepened the impasse. As The UnPopulist notes, the president has long cast himself as a bulwark against the extremes, insisting that his legacy is to keep the far right out of power. However, this stance has left him isolated, forced to rely on minority governments that are inherently unstable. Lecornu’s second government, for instance, is composed almost exclusively of Macron loyalists—only those without presidential ambitions are permitted to join, with one notable exception: Gérard Darmanin, who returned as Justice Minister.
This technocratic, top-down approach has fueled growing resentment among ordinary citizens, who increasingly view the political class as self-serving and out of touch. Macron’s reliance on executive decrees and a narrow circle of advisers has sidelined traditional intermediary bodies like unions and local authorities, further alienating voters. Only a quarter of the French population now expresses confidence in the country’s political institutions, compared to 47% in Germany and 39% in Italy.
The consequences of this political dysfunction are not merely theoretical. France’s public debt has soared to nearly 114% of GDP—about €3.4 trillion—making it the third highest in the eurozone. The government’s budget deficit is projected to reach 5.4% this year, well above the EU’s 3% target. Markets have grown jittery, and François Villeroy de Galhau, head of France’s central bank, warned that “political turmoil will set the economy back,” estimating that instability has already cost France 0.2% of potential growth in 2025.
Lecornu now faces the daunting task of presenting a new draft budget by the end of the year, promising to restore fiscal discipline without deepening the cost-of-living crisis. He has also vowed to end the reliance on the 49:3 mechanism for passing budgets, a move that could either rebuild trust in the government or paralyze it further if consensus proves elusive.
But the stakes go far beyond budgets and parliamentary maneuvers. As The UnPopulist observes, the failure of Macron’s technocratic style has inadvertently paved the way for the rise of the nativist right. The once-rigid cordon sanitaire that kept Marine Le Pen’s National Rally out of government is crumbling. In the 2024 election, the National Rally secured more than 10 million votes and between 89 and 142 MPs with its allies, yet was excluded from any governing coalition. Now, for the first time, a majority of French citizens—53%—oppose the cordon sanitaire, and prominent conservatives like former President Nicolas Sarkozy have declared the National Rally a legitimate partner.
Critics from across the spectrum are raising alarms. Green leader Cyrielle Chatelain declared, “We refuse to stand by and watch Emmanuel Macron seize power,” while former Les Républicains leader Éric Ciotti, now aligned with the National Rally, denounced Macron as “the worst president in the history of the Fifth Republic.” Even centrist supporters worry that alliances with the Socialists could alienate the president’s base, while conservative figures like Bruno Retailleau have publicly ruled out further cooperation.
With just 18 months left in Macron’s term and the next presidential election looming in 2027, the political class is already in pre-campaign mode. Polls suggest the National Rally could capture 35% of the vote in the first round. Two-thirds of French citizens are calling for new parliamentary elections, but most MPs—especially those in the dwindling “common basis” coalition—oppose the idea, fearing a rout at the hands of the far right.
What began in 2017 as a bold experiment in centrist, personality-driven politics is now unraveling. France’s semi-presidential Fifth Republic, designed to ensure stability, is buckling under the weight of polarization and public mistrust. Lecornu may have survived this latest crisis, but the deeper question remains: can France’s government still govern, or is the curtain falling on Macronism and the political order it built?
The coming months will reveal whether the president and his embattled prime minister can forge the consensus needed to steer France through its storm—or whether the forces unleashed by years of technocratic rule will reshape the nation’s future.
