Elections are all about wish-fulfilment, except that no one ever gets what they wish for, including those who come down on the winning side. Government is much the same. No political leader ever succeeds in their mission. It isn’t simply that, as Enoch Powell famously put it, all political lives end in failure, it is that being in charge is, most of the time, an illusion.
Nowhere is this more true than in France. Emmanuel Macron swept to power in 2017 on a promise of national renewal. He had it all worked out. He would raise the age at which workers could retire while updating the antiquated and unaffordable system of state pensions. He would make it easier for private companies to hire and fire; he would make French start-ups the envy of Europe and, as the Pied Piper of La Défense, he would attract as much as possible of the business of the City of London to a new home in Paris.
But then, without warning, events pulled the rug from under him. The gilets-jaunes, the railway workers, the “Ultras,” lone-wolf jihadis, Covid, Russia’s invasion of Ukraine: how was he supposed to get anything done when everything was conspiring against him?
Arguably, he did as well as could have been expected in the circumstances, which were, after all, pretty dire. The French economy has strengthened; unemployment is at a 20-year low, legislation has been introduced to reinforce laïcité (the separation of church/mosque and state), and society has recently reopened after a hard-won containment of Covid. But it was uphill all the way. And if he wins a second term, it all starts again.
The truth is, not many voters actually like Macron. He is widely perceived as conceited and utterly lacking the common touch. But they do, for the most part, respect his intelligence and, through gritted teeth, admire his ability to come back from adversity and get things done.
Now consider the claims of Macron’s principal rivals, Marine Le Pen of the far-right National Rally, and Jean-Luc Mélenchon, veteran leader of the quasi-Marxist France Unbowed. One of these — almost certainly Le Pen — will come second to Macron on Sunday and thus go forward into the contest’s second round, due to take place on April 24. Both are populists; both believe that they could make France great again.
Le Pen, who has been campaigning at street level, presenting herself as the workers’ friend, would, if elected, reduce France’s contribution to the EU budget; cut VAT on petrol diesel, gas and electricity from 22 per cent to 5.5 per cent; stabilise food prices and, in a naked bid to secure the votes of a rejuvenated troisième age, lower — not raise — the official retirement age from 62 to 60.
On immigration, she claims to have abandoned the racism that characterised her party when, as the National Front, it was run by her father, Jean-Marie Le Pen, a sometime apologist for Hitler. So how soft and empathetic has she become? She would make it harder for incomers to gain citizenship; repatriate illegals; cut benefits for all new arrivals; ban political Islam; make it unlawful for women to wear the veil at work or in public places; and bring in legislation favouring native-born French over immigrants in the search for jobs. She would also investigate the possibility of a referendum on ending freedom of movement from the rest of the EU. How would that go down in Brussels?
Le Pen, though a fan of Donald Trump, is fundamentally anti-American and dubious of the value of Nato. While condemning Russia’s invasion of Ukraine, she was until last month, planning to promote herself as a soulmate of Vladimir Putin. When the self-confessed “illiberal” prime minister of Hungary, Viktor Orban, a champion of straight, white, Christian Europe, won re-election last week, Le Pen was first on the phone to offer her congratulations and to express the hope that the two of them might in future work together to build a better Europe.
Mélenchon, who veers between rabble-rousing and the sort of cold political calculation that would have impressed Robespierre, is the French Jeremy Corbyn but with three times the brains. Equally suspicious of the US and the EU, he would quit Nato and look for alternative alliances across the world committed to shared economic development and the fight against climate change. He would lower the retirement age to 60; increase both pensions and the minimum wage and raise, by some way, the levels of tax paid by rich individuals, banks and big businesses.
In support of his vow to change the Constitution and usher in a Sixth Republic, he would introduce proportional representation and give ordinary people the power through citizens’ assemblies to initiate legislation and referendums. He would even allow them to recall their elected representatives if they failed to meet expectations. He would scrap powers that currently give Presidents through their ministers the right to pass legislation without parliamentary approval.
Finally, like Le Pen, he would hope to rebuild trust with Russia, which, until recently, in defiance of all logic, he looked upon as a necessary counterweight to the evils of American capitalism. In the meantime, he has condemned Russian aggression and offered his “solidarity” to the people of Ukraine, who are no doubt suitably grateful.
France is in flux. Its pivot to the right, with the Far Left conscripted to the cause, is nothing new. It has been building for at least the last decade, so it is hard to credit that the Socialist François Hollande was elected President as recently as 2012. What has changed is the speed and the intensity of the transformation. Polls show that Macron’s fortunes have turned retrograde in the space of a month. He looks to be up against it now and, if the polls are to be believed, is fighting for his political life.
It is as if voters, emerging from the sensory deprivation tank that constrained normal life during the three years of the Covid pandemic, have suddenly come alive again and are desperate for something exciting and different to happen. Le Pen, with the imp of Éric Zemmour on her shoulder, or Mélenchon, a Communard in all but name, would certainly provide the colour and drama needed to satisfy their craving. But at what cost? Is France — and Europe — in chaos really what they want?
I asked my neighbour Jean-françois yesterday who he would be voting for. He wouldn’t say, save to throw over his shoulder the remark that it wouldn’t be Macron. The one piece of advice I would offer to those seemingly ready to abandon good sense and toss the future of France up in the air is, be careful what you wish for. You might just get it.