Macronism: Fin?

“Macronism will probably come to an end in the coming months, with the end of President Macron’s second five-year term.” These words—uttered by government spokesperson Sophie Primas in June—seem to capture a prevalent sentiment in France: President Emmanuel Macron’s brand of politics is nearing its expiration.

The year 2025 has been one of the most tumultuous in the 67-year history of France’s Fifth Republic. It has brought levels of uncertainty and instability that have left the French political class and commentariat asking whether the end of French President Emmanuel Macron’s hold on power and “macronism” are nigh. This uncertainty has extended to whether the Fifth Republic itself will survive or join the ranks of its predecessors—and much of the debate has centered on Macron himself.

As some observers in France see it, the developments in Washington could be foreshadowing what could happen across Europe and in their own country. In an age of democratic backsliding and growing illiberalism—symbolized for the French by contemporary America—the last stretch of the Macron presidency wouldn’t just determine the fate of his party and political allies. It could very well lead to the far right successfully gaining power, even as France navigates some of the greatest challenges of the 20th and 21st centuries thus far.

Given France’s central position within the EU (as the Eurozone’s second economy and only nuclear power since Brexit), what happens in Paris will shape the course of events in the rest of Europe and reverberate across the Atlantic. But just as France occupies a critical place in Europe, Europe plays an important role in France’s view of itself and its place in the world. It is also a foundational aspect of Macron’s leadership philosophy—having articulated a grand vision for the future of Europe during his presidency. For Macron, the future of France and that of Europe are fundamentally interwoven, and he has credited some of his country’s great successes to its position within the EU.

Nowhere is this more apparent than in Macron’s foreign policy. As he has treaded water at home, Macron has sought to assert himself abroad. He has tried to project the image of an apt diplomat and an architect of the future of European security—though he’s done so with mixed results. As his star power has dimmed at home and chaos has engulfed the Élysée, Macron’s ambitious foreign policy and national security agenda have also taken a hit. For a president who has defined his brand of politics and his presidency by his international gravitas, this is a significant obstacle to his realizing his vision for a long-lasting imprint on the country’s politics and trajectory.

As NATO, and alliances in general, take a backseat in the United States’s approach to foreign affairs and international security under President Trump, Macron’s failure to cement his legacy of a new European security architecture could leave the EU even more vulnerable if and when—as it currently appears plausible—a far-right Euroskeptic were to succeed him. And should the United States return to its alliance-centered national security strategy, it could find a long-term ally and key teammate missing in action.

A Brief History

In France’s famously turbulent history, the Fifth Republic—founded by Charles de Gaulle in 1958—is characterized by a strong executive branch under the president and a robust constitutional justice system with the creation of the Constitutional Council. Despite significant periods of upheaval, including the widespread protests of May 1968 and the second half of the Algerian war, the Fifth Republic has remained relatively stable. This stability has stemmed in large part from the mechanisms baked into the 1958 Constitution, which limit the conditions under which the government can be disestablished.

This stability, however, has been thrown into doubt by the chaos of “la macronie,” as Macron and his entourage are sometimes known. Once seen as France’s dynamic wunderkind and an important defender of Europe and Western liberalism, the embattled French president has faced one debilitating crisis after another. These crises are best illustrated by their most visible manifestation: a parade of prime ministers—five of them in under two years—who have walked through the doors of the prime minister’s residence at Hôtel Matignon, Sébastien Lecornu having resigned once on Oct. 6 before being reappointed by Macron mere days later.

Seemingly unrelated to the political upheaval, a recent heist at the Louvre Museum left France shaken, providing more fodder to Macron’s critics. On Oct.19, less than two weeks after the latest drama surrounding the premiership, thieves stole some of the country’s literal crown jewels from the Napoleon collection. The incident appropriately raised a number of questions about the inadequacy of security measures at the museum, home to some of the most important pieces of art in world heritage. But political adversaries of the president went further: Jordan Bardella of the far right National Rally (RN) party characterized it as a “humiliation” and blamed it on the “breakdown of the state.” Others from different political persuasions also criticized Macron for the incident, lamenting the fact that their country had become the “laughingstock of the world,” or decrying the misallocation of resources.

But Macron’s tribulations are far from new. As early as his first term, the president faced a major domestic crisis in the “gilets jaunes” protests, followed a couple of years later by the coronavirus. Over time, incidents, big and small, added to both self-inflicted and structural issues, including the general malaise in many democracies and the rise of illiberalism—as Macron himself captured in his remarks on the occasion of the anniversary of the German reunification.

The downward trend only continued during Macron’s second term. Even before he dissolved the lower house of the French parliament or the National Assembly in June 2024, Macron’s approval numbers had dropped significantly—down from 40 percent in March 2022 to 28 percent in June 2024 when he dissolved the National Assembly. As of October 2025, Macron polled at just 19 percent while, for the first time, the top three political figures with the highest approval numbers in the French political landscape all belonged to the far right.

Macron’s decision to dissolve the National Assembly came as a surprise (even to his then-prime minister, Gabriel Attal). This risky gambit—whose precipitating factor resided in the far right’s gains in the European elections earlier that month—was meant to reinvigorate France’s democracy and strengthen Macron’s mandate. Above all, it was to serve as a rebuke of the far right’s victory, which “represent[ed] a 40-year record for any French political party in the European elections.”

The National Rally had framed the European elections as a referendum on Macron. Upon Macron’s dissolution of the lower house, the RN secured roughly 33 percent of votes cast during the first round of the snap elections, the first time the far-right party had managed to secure more than 20 percent of the votes since its founding in 1972 by Jean-Marie LePen. The big-tent left party, New Popular Front, came in second with 28.3 percent of the votes, and Macron’s Ensemble secured third place with 21.8 percent of the votes in that first round. The RN’s historic gains raised concerns across the rest of the political spectrum, galvanizing swaths of the population and a large part of the political establishment from the left to the center right to form a broad coalition, which succeeded in preventing the RN from winning a majority of seats in the second round. But the elections were also clearly a rejection of the call to rally around Macron’s vision, handing him an even weaker mandate (even by his own admission).

The immense success of the Paris Olympics just weeks later appeared to give a much-needed boost to Macron, at least briefly. The summer Olympics presented an immense organizational and security challenge for Paris and the country, and was characterized as one of two decisive events for Macron, along with the European elections. But the political euphoria resulting from the games proved short-lived as economic troubles mounted.

Precipitating Events at Home

France’s political troubles are intertwined with its economic challenges. Three successive prime ministers since 2024 tried and failed to pass a budget through the National Assembly to tackle the country’s growing debt and deficit (though Lecornu is working to change that). Unless the economic challenges are managed, more bad news seems poised to arrive as the country braces itself for a sharp decrease in its economic growth (which was 1.2 percent last year, down from 1.4 percent in 2023, and projected to reach only 0.6 percent this year). In 2024, the French debt exceeded 3.4 trillion euros, and its budget deficit, 5.8 percent of gross domestic product, was nearly double the limit of 3 percent as mandated by the EU—the largest since World War II, placing it behind Greece and Italy in the bloc. Consequently, just days after Lecornu agreed to remain prime minister, S&P Global downgraded the country’s credit status from AA- to A+ (the third major ratings agency to do so).

Since then, Lecornu has presented to the National Assembly a new 2026 austerity budget bill, which he qualified as “transitional.” His aim, as he explained it to the parliament, was threefold: first, to cut the deficit to under 5 percent in 2026; second, a targeted increase in investments for the future, notably in the energy, tech, and defense sectors; and third, an ambitious reform of the state, clarifying the jurisdiction of each public sector. Overall, Lecornu’s theory is that this budget would allow France to reassert and reinforce its independence in an uncertain international context—and especially relative to the United States, China, and the Middle East. Significantly, the budget would also raise the defense budget by 6.7 billion euros, including to maintain the country’s nuclear capabilities, a move Lecornu specifically noted would allow for independence from allies like the United States. Almost immediately, the Socialists threatened to overthrow the cabinet by Oct. 27 if Lecornu did not cave on their demand to include in his budget proposal a tax on the wealthiest citizens.

These developments have occurred against the backdrop of U.S. import tariffs, which have left French businesses concerned about supply chain disruptions and declining exports. Several key French sectors are affected by Trump’s tariffs, including aeronautics, pharmaceuticals, wines and spirits, and luxury goods—which amount to one-third of U.S. French imports. None of this bodes well for Macron, whose “France 2030” modernization project lays out 10 objectives underpinned by investments in French industry, technology, and renewables, and which seeks to revitalize French cultural output. Beyond impeding Macron’s France 2030 vision, a crisis in France risks reverberating across the EU in the medium to long term. In the short term, Macron’s political and economic woes have already diminished one of his only strengths: his ability to project power in Europe and beyond.

Power Projection Abroad

Even as Macron has suffered defeats and seen his popularity decline at home, he has managed to maintain a certain gravitas on the international stage—though with mixed results in practice. Whether the French president’s ability to convey an articulate vision for his country’s foreign policy and European security is merely a testament to his oratory skills or a product of his substantive policymaking is an ongoing subject of debate.

But from climate, to the Israel-Palestinian issue-set, to the Russian war in Ukraine, the French president has been able to assert himself and flex his country’s diplomatic muscle—despite Paris’s waning influence globally, as illustrated by its gradual withdrawal from former colonial footholds in Africa. The French president has a penchant for launching new initiatives, which have thus far included the Paris Peace Forum, an annual international event focused on global governance, and the European Political Community, a platform that serves to increase cooperation on security and other issues. But while these fora make a splash, their substantive intent and output are not always clear.

Similarly, Macron sought to assert himself as a key player in the lead-up to and since the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine. But here, too, there was more sophism than substance driving Paris, which has been one of the smaller contributors to the war effort. This mismatch between rhetoric and action frustrated other nations supporting Kyiv early on in the conflict. According to the French government, between the start of the conflict in February 2022 until December 2024, the country spent only 8.6 billion euros to support Ukraine, an amount dwarfed by other nations’ contributions ($114.6 billion for the United States from 2022 to June 2025 and Germany on track to spend 9 billion euros in 2025 alone). This is despite the country’s attempt to position itself as being at the forefront of European rearmament.

Macron has, however, shown that he’s willing and able to acknowledge his country’s shortcomings, having done so in May 2023 at the GLOBSEC Bratislava Forum. During his speech at the summit, Macron admitted that his country had not taken Eastern European concerns about the Russian threat seriously. As he noted, “[W]e did not always hear the voices you brought, calling for recognition of your painful memories and history. Some told you then that you were missing opportunities to keep quiet—but I believe we sometimes missed opportunities to listen.” He further acknowledged that “we lacked coherence as Europeans. So we provided insufficient guarantees to certain countries at our borders.” The speech demonstrated leadership and willingness to be accountable, providing a boost to Macron in the region. Yet, despite this political reckoning, there hasn’t been significant practical movement to address these very shortcomings, as illustrated by Moscow’s continued coercive actions vis-a-vis Europe’s NATO members.

Yet Macron stands out as perhaps the only European leader capable of navigating the rocky relationship with his American counterpart. He has doubled down on the country’s long-standing policy alliance with the United States while asserting France’s independence in key areas—most notably, vis-a-vis China. Macron has also pushed for a more independent European security architecture, which he views as increasingly relevant in the face of a receding (and even adversarial) America and “general rearmament” across the world. Within NATO, Macron advocates for greater cooperation among the EU states, “European sovereignty,” strategic autonomy, and “credible defense” of Europe. He has eloquently argued that Europe needs to end its status as a member of a “strategic minority” as well as its dependence on Russia for energy, America for security, and China for other critical resources. Perhaps one of the most significant adjustments in France’s declaratory policy in recent years resides in Macron’s suggestion that his country’s long-standing nuclear posture could change. He has said that he is prepared “to open discussion” about extending Paris’s nuclear deterrent to other European nations. What this may look like in practice, the legal questions surrounding it, and potential next steps in the process remain to be seen, but this overture is a significant—and positive—step that would benefit transatlantic security. 

Additionally, Paris announced in July that it would be recognizing a Palestinian state at the UN General Assembly high-level meeting in September and that, along with Riyadh, it had “taken the initiative to launch a collective effort to revive the two-state solution.” Minister for Europe and Foreign Affairs Jeon-Noël Barrot went further, calling on “the countries who have not yet recognized the State of Palestine” to “join in the irreversible momentum that we have started along with Saudi Arabia by taking part in the meeting of Heads [of] State and Government which will take place in September during the United Nations General Assembly.” By September, a number of countries followed suit; in New York, 10 of them announced their recognition of a Palestinian state, noting that Hamas would have “no role in governing.”

Macron’s team hailed these developments as a “major diplomatic victory for France.” As domestic troubles mounted in Paris, he chose to travel to Egypt to appear alongside other world leaders as the U.S. president announced his peace plan between Israel and Hamas. Macron did so in a carefully orchestrated appearance, suggesting that he had personally played a key part in securing the plan. Notably, he chose not to stand behind the U.S. president as other European leaders did. For an embattled French president, these optics mattered and allowed Macron to briefly distract from palace intrigue and chaos at home. 

However, he has been less inclined to take bold steps when it comes to China. Paris views a focus on the People’s Republic of China as a distraction and aims instead to keep itself, Europe, and NATO out of what it views as the U.S.-China competition to preserve independence from America. By doing so, France fails to recognize the impact of Beijing’s activities on Europe, including the effect of growing ties between China and Russia.

Beijing remains one of Moscow’s main military and technology suppliers, and “a crucial, irreplaceable enabler of Russia’s sustained war efforts against Ukraine.” Yet, under Macron, France went as far as blocking an agreement to open a liaison office for NATO in Japan, an important step that would allow the alliance to deepen cooperation with like-minded partners in Asia and share lessons learned from the theater. This is despite France being, in its own words, “the only European nation present in the Indo-Pacific with nearly two millions citizens and more than 7,000 military personnel.” But for Macron, his country’s relationship with China is not limited to strategic competition and hard security issues, and he has sought greater cooperation in a number of areas. As he put it, “It is much larger than just the military issue. It is economic. It is strategic. It is about values. It is technological. And we should avoid distracting NATO which already has many challenges.” Paris is also going as far as initiating efforts to counter the United States by cozying up to China in one key area: climate. 

Under Macron, Paris continues to seek a leadership position in climate; and it perceives itself as suitably positioned for leadership in artificial intelligence (AI) in part thanks to its advances in decarbonized electricity generation. With the Trump administration’s adversarial attitude toward addressing the climate crisis, France now sees China as an important partner in this effort. Indeed, as Trump called climate change “the greatest con job ever” at the UN General Assembly meeting in September, Chinese President Xi Jinping announced that his country would reduce greenhouse gas emissions by 7 to 10 percent. And as the United States has vacated its leadership role in this space and left the 2015 Paris Agreement, China has been doubling down on clean energy. Paris now conceives of climate as an “essential” area of cooperation for the two countries, and their respective industries are advancing joint projects, some of which were reached when Xi visited Paris last year.

Although Macron’s relationship with Trump has been characterized by disagreement, he and former President Biden also enjoyed their fair share of ups and downs. Macron has described the United States’s first priority as the United States and its second, China, with Europe not in the picture. Despite dazzling Trump during his first term, Macron wasn’t successful in convincing him to forego two of his most damaging decisions: the withdrawals from the Paris Agreement and the 2015 Iran nuclear deal. One of Biden’s signature foreign policy initiatives was the establishment of AUKUS, an arrangement designed to equip Australia with nuclear-powered submarines and boost other technological and defense cooperation among Washington, London, and Canberra. The launch of AUKUS, which both excluded France and led to Canberra reneging on a $66 billion contract with the European nation for the acquisition of submarines, led to Paris recalling its ambassador to Washington for “consultations” for the first time since 1794. Then-Minister for Europe and Foreign Affairs Jean-Yves Le Drian noted this request by Macron reflected the “exceptional seriousness of the announcements made on September 15 by Australia and the United States.” Le Drian also accused the Biden administration of behaving like the Trump administration.

Since then, Macron—once infamous for his international ambitions—has reportedly become too consumed by his domestic troubles and his loss of political capital to be able to meaningfully advance a bold foreign policy agenda. Macron’s impotence is especially troublesome as France, Europe, and NATO face a number of hard problems and far-right Euroskeptics gain ground domestically. These include Russia’s war in Ukraine and European leaders’ efforts to navigate an unpredictable and at times even adversarial relationship with America to put an end to the conflict, as well as the future of the transatlantic alliance more broadly.

Macronism After Macron

Domestically, Macron’s legacy has primarily been tarnished by a looming economic crisis. The fact that Macron’s actions have not always had a constant guiding line, favoring opportunism over consistency, means that even the task of defining macronism is a difficult one. Internationally, Macron is guided by a vision for an independent France leading a strong Europe. But what that means in practice is less clear. With a few notable exceptions, such as the revival of a two-state solution in Israel-Palestine, Macron has often failed to deliver results.

If Macron is unable to turn it around in the next two years, France risks seeing a transition of power from a coalition that came together to create a bulwark against far-right Euroskeptics to the National Rally. Such a development could engender ripple effects across Europe, which is already seeing the backsliding of democracy—albeit for the most part more slowly than in the United States. But the American experience may serve as a lesson for the French, who are watching events across the Atlantic and warning against replicating them at home.

At 47, Macron has two more years before the end of his second five-year term, and can’t seek a third consecutive term under the French Constitution. But 2027 is unlikely to seal his legacy, as he is already hinting at another potential run in 2032. Even so, many in the French commentariat and officials from elsewhere are already “speaking of Macron in the past tense.” Whether his particular brand of “macronism” has become too toxic to carry on, either through him or through allies, remains to be seen.