🔗 Share this article

In October 2022, as Rishi Sunak assumed office as the UK's leader, he was the fifth consecutive British prime minister to occupy the role over a six-year span.

Triggered in the UK by Brexit, this signified exceptional governmental instability. So how might we describe what is unfolding in the French Republic, now on its sixth prime minister in two years – three of them in the last ten months?

The current premier, the recently reappointed Sébastien Lecornu, may have gained a brief respite on that day, abandoning Emmanuel Macron’s key pension reform in return for support from Socialist lawmakers as the price for his administration's continuation.

But it is, at best, a temporary fix. The EU’s number two economic power is trapped in a ongoing governmental crisis, the likes of which it has not witnessed for decades – perhaps not since the start of its Fifth Republic in 1958 – and from which there appears no simple way out.

Governing Without a Majority

Key background: from the moment Macron called an risky early parliamentary vote in 2024, France has had a divided assembly separated into three warring blocs – the left, the far right and his own centre-right alliance – without any group holding a clear majority.

Simultaneously, the country faces dual debt and deficit crises: its debt-to-GDP ratio and deficit are now nearly double the EU limit, and hard constitutional deadlines to pass a 2026 budget that starts controlling expenditures are nigh.

In this challenging environment, both the prime ministers before Lecornu – Michel Barnier, who served from September to December 2024, and François Bayrou, who held the position from December 2024 to September 2025 – were removed by parliament.

In September, the leader named his trusted associate Lecornu as his new prime minister. But when, just over a fortnight later, Lecornu presented his government team – which turned out to be much the same as the old one – he encountered anger from both supporters and rivals.

So much so that the following day, he stepped down. After only 27 days as premier, Lecornu became the shortest-lived premier in recent French history. In a dignified speech, he blamed political intransigence, saying “partisan attitudes” and “certain egos” would make his job all but impossible.

Another twist in the tale: shortly after Lecornu’s resignation, Macron requested he remain for another 48 hours in a last-ditch effort to secure multi-party support – a mission, to put it mildly, filled with challenges.

Next, two ex-prime ministers publicly turned on the embattled president. Meanwhile, the right-wing RN and radical left France Unbowed (LFI) refused to meet Lecornu, vowing to reject any and every new government unless there were early elections.

Lecornu stuck at his job, talking to everyone who was prepared to hear him out. At the conclusion of his extension, he appeared on television to say he thought “a solution remained possible” to avoid elections. The leader's team confirmed the president would appoint a new prime minister two days later.

Macron kept his promise – and on that Friday appointed … Sébastien Lecornu, again. So recently – with Macron commenting from the wings that the nation's opposing groups were “fuelling division” and “solely responsible for this chaos” – was Lecornu’s critical test. Could he survive – and can he pass that vital budget?

In a critical address, the 39-year-old PM spelled out his budget priorities, giving the centre-left Socialist party (PS), who detest Macron’s controversial pension changes, what they were expecting: Macron’s flagship reform would be frozen until 2027.

With the right-wing LR already on board, the Socialists said they would not back censorship votes proposed against Lecornu by the extremist factions – meaning the administration would likely endure those votes, due on Thursday.

It is, however, by no means certain to be able to pass its planned €30bn budget squeeze: the PS explicitly warned that it would be seeking more concessions. “This,” said its leader, Olivier Faure, “is only the beginning.”

A Cultural Shift

The issue is, the more Lecornu cedes to the centre-left, the more he will meet resistance from the centre-right. And, similar to the Socialists, the conservatives are themselves divided over how to handle the new government – certain members remain eager to bring it down.

A glance at the parliamentary arithmetic shows how tough Lecornu’s task – and future viability – will be. A combined 264 lawmakers from the RN, radical-left LFI, Greens, Communists and UDR want him out.

To succeed, they need a 288-vote majority in parliament – so if they can persuade just 24 of the PS’s 69 deputies or the LR’s 47 representatives (or both) to vote with them, Macron’s fifth precarious prime minister in two years is, similar to his forerunners, toast.

Few would bet against that happening sooner rather than later. Although, by an unlikely turn, the divided parliament musters collective will to pass a budget by year-end, the outlook afterward look grim.

So is there a way out? Snap elections would be unlikely to solve the problem: surveys indicate nearly all parties except the RN would lose seats, but there would still be no clear majority. A fresh premier would confront identical numerical challenges.

Another possibility might be for Macron himself to resign. After a presidential vote, his replacement would disband the assembly and aim for a legislative majority in the ensuing legislative vote. But this also remains unclear.

Surveys show the next occupant of the Elysée Palace will be Le Pen or Bardella. There is at least an strong possibility that France’s voters, having chosen a far-right leader, might reconsider giving them parliamentary power.

In the end, France may not escape its predicament until its leaders accept the new political reality, which is that decisive majorities are a bygone phenomenon, absolute victory is obsolete, and compromise is not synonymous with failure.

Many think that transformation will not be feasible under the country’s current constitution. “This is no conventional parliamentary crisis, but a crise de régime” that will endure indefinitely.

“The system wasn't built to encourage – and actively discourages – the formation of ruling alliances typical across Europe. The Fifth Republic may well have entered its terminal phase.”