September 9, 2025
By [Author Name]
Another night, another collapse.
On Monday evening Paris time, Prime Minister Michel Barnier’s government lost a confidence vote in the National Assembly, the third French cabinet to fall in barely twelve months.
American commentators are already calling it the worst political crisis since de Gaulle founded the Fifth Republic in 1958.
Some go further: “France is now in de-facto paralysis,” one D.C. think-tank declared.
A new prime minister every four months is not a rotation; it’s a merry-go-round flying off its axle.
On Monday evening Paris time, Prime Minister Michel Barnier’s government lost a confidence vote in the National Assembly, the third French cabinet to fall in barely twelve months.
American commentators are already calling it the worst political crisis since de Gaulle founded the Fifth Republic in 1958.
Some go further: “France is now in de-facto paralysis,” one D.C. think-tank declared.
A new prime minister every four months is not a rotation; it’s a merry-go-round flying off its axle.
The timing is brutal.
Only five days earlier President Emmanuel Macron stood beside Volodymyr Zelensky in the Élysée courtyard, cameras clicking, flags flapping.
Thirty-five nations had answered Macron’s call to a “coalition of the willing” for post-war Ukraine, he boasted; twenty-six had already signed up to send troops once the guns fall silent.
Zelensky, eyes shining, vowed to “strip Russia of its ability to rearm.”
Listen to the two men and you would think Ukrainian tanks were about to parade on Red Square—led, of course, by a French tricolor.
Spin the camera 180 degrees, however, and the view is messier: the back of Macron’s suit is covered in the political equivalent of baby powder and spaghetti stains.
The president who wants to garrison Ukraine cannot keep a government alive at home.
The swagger is pure Versailles; the reality is pure banana republic.
The president who wants to garrison Ukraine cannot keep a government alive at home.
The swagger is pure Versailles; the reality is pure banana republic.
How France talked itself into gridlock
The story begins on the night of July 7, 2024, when Paris erupted in left-wing cheers.
Jean-Luc Mélenchon, firebrand leader of the “France Unbowed” party, climbed a makeshift stage and declared victory: the far-right Rassemblement National had been blocked, and his New Popular Front (NFP) had finished first in the second round of parliamentary elections.
Then he turned the knife on Macron: “Admit defeat. Appoint our prime minister. We are ready to govern—our program, all of it, nothing else.”
No coalition, no compromise, no mercy.
Jean-Luc Mélenchon, firebrand leader of the “France Unbowed” party, climbed a makeshift stage and declared victory: the far-right Rassemblement National had been blocked, and his New Popular Front (NFP) had finished first in the second round of parliamentary elections.
Then he turned the knife on Macron: “Admit defeat. Appoint our prime minister. We are ready to govern—our program, all of it, nothing else.”
No coalition, no compromise, no mercy.
Why so cocky?
Because France’s electoral math had been scrambled.
Pre-vote polls had drawn a tidy picture: far-right largest, Macron’s centrist bloc second, left third.
Instead, the left came out on top, Macron second, the far-right third.
A polling firm literally had to paste new numbers onto the wrong bar chart before deadline; the internet captured the glitch forever.
Because France’s electoral math had been scrambled.
Pre-vote polls had drawn a tidy picture: far-right largest, Macron’s centrist bloc second, left third.
Instead, the left came out on top, Macron second, the far-right third.
A polling firm literally had to paste new numbers onto the wrong bar chart before deadline; the internet captured the glitch forever.
Macron’s own scheme blew up in his face.
He had dissolved parliament hoping to create a three-way traffic jam so hopeless that the constitution would let his hand-picked technocrat stay on as caretaker.
The plan required the far-right to finish first; Macron could then wave that result at Mélenchon and demand joint resistance to fascism.
Instead, the left finished first and Mélenchon flipped the script: “We are the republican dam—against you, if necessary.”
He had dissolved parliament hoping to create a three-way traffic jam so hopeless that the constitution would let his hand-picked technocrat stay on as caretaker.
The plan required the far-right to finish first; Macron could then wave that result at Mélenchon and demand joint resistance to fascism.
Instead, the left finished first and Mélenchon flipped the script: “We are the republican dam—against you, if necessary.”
France’s 1958 constitution does not allow the president to dissolve parliament twice within a year.
Bulgaria, which has held seven elections since 2021, can keep voting until something gives; France must sit in its own mess for twelve full months.
The result has been serial prime-ministericide.
Bulgaria, which has held seven elections since 2021, can keep voting until something gives; France must sit in its own mess for twelve full months.
The result has been serial prime-ministericide.
The three fall guys
Act I: Gabriel Attal, 34, the prodigy.
Nine days after the July vote he read the room and resigned before anyone could fire him.
Exit, stage left.
Nine days after the July vote he read the room and resigned before anyone could fire him.
Exit, stage left.
Act II: Michel Barnier, 73, the fixer.
A veteran of every right-wing cabinet since the 1980s, Barnier tried to ram through a social-security bill by invoking a constitutional loophole.
In December the unthinkable happened: the far-right and the hard-left both voted “no confidence,” toppling him after 89 days—the shortest premiership in French history.
A veteran of every right-wing cabinet since the 1980s, Barnier tried to ram through a social-security bill by invoking a constitutional loophole.
In December the unthinkable happened: the far-right and the hard-left both voted “no confidence,” toppling him after 89 days—the shortest premiership in French history.
Act III: François Bayrou, 73, the “chameleon.”
A rural centrist famous for telling left-wing audiences he was “of the people” and right-wing audiences he was “of the soil,” Bayrou perfected the art of doing nothing.
For seven months he simply marked time, betting that inaction was the only survivable policy.
It worked—until the bond market called the bluff.
A rural centrist famous for telling left-wing audiences he was “of the people” and right-wing audiences he was “of the soil,” Bayrou perfected the art of doing nothing.
For seven months he simply marked time, betting that inaction was the only survivable policy.
It worked—until the bond market called the bluff.
When the money runs out
France has not balanced a budget since 1974—fifty-one consecutive years of red ink.
Public debt is heading for 130 % of GDP by 2030, double the pre-2008 level.
The tax burden is already the highest in the OECD—44 % of GDP—yet the treasury is empty.
Rising global interest rates, triggered by the U.S. Federal Reserve’s 2022-24 tightening cycle, will push debt-service costs from €30 bn in 2020 to an estimated €100 bn by decade’s end.
Last week the National Assembly floated an emergency “tax-the-rich” package.
Bayrou took to the tribune and warned that any new levy would accelerate the exodus of millionaires already heading to Dubai and Doha.
In the past three years 16,800 ultra-high-net-worth individuals have left France; the UK is poised to lose ten times that number, according to private-bank surveys.
The chamber booed.
Bayrou knew the speech was political suicide; he gave it anyway.
Hours later his government fell.
Bayrou took to the tribune and warned that any new levy would accelerate the exodus of millionaires already heading to Dubai and Doha.
In the past three years 16,800 ultra-high-net-worth individuals have left France; the UK is poised to lose ten times that number, according to private-bank surveys.
The chamber booed.
Bayrou knew the speech was political suicide; he gave it anyway.
Hours later his government fell.
What happens next
No one knows who will be asked to form the fourth cabinet.
The constitution says the president “must” reflect the new parliamentary balance, but Macron still refuses to hand the keys to Mélenchon’s coalition.
The left is threatening “actions” if ignored; the far-right is happy to keep voting no until the Elysée begs for mercy.
Another dissolution is legally possible after July 2025, but polls show the far-right would win even bigger.
Macron is trapped between the letter of the constitution and the arithmetic of hatred.
The constitution says the president “must” reflect the new parliamentary balance, but Macron still refuses to hand the keys to Mélenchon’s coalition.
The left is threatening “actions” if ignored; the far-right is happy to keep voting no until the Elysée begs for mercy.
Another dissolution is legally possible after July 2025, but polls show the far-right would win even bigger.
Macron is trapped between the letter of the constitution and the arithmetic of hatred.
The bigger picture
France is not an outlier; it is an early warning.
From Tehran (40 % inflation for three years running) to Kathmandu—where the prime minister also resigned Monday—governments are folding under the post-COVID economic hangover.
Only the world’s largest industrial base, China, has the buffers to keep growth positive, if slower.
The era of cheap money papered over ideological cracks; the era of expensive money rips them open.
From Tehran (40 % inflation for three years running) to Kathmandu—where the prime minister also resigned Monday—governments are folding under the post-COVID economic hangover.
Only the world’s largest industrial base, China, has the buffers to keep growth positive, if slower.
The era of cheap money papered over ideological cracks; the era of expensive money rips them open.
So when Macron promises to lead a European army into Ukraine, remember the circus at home: a president who cannot command a majority, a parliament that cannot pass a budget, a country that cannot govern itself.
In great-power politics, credibility starts at the water’s edge—and France’s water is rising fast.
In great-power politics, credibility starts at the water’s edge—and France’s water is rising fast.
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