The French Parliamentary Permacrisis: The Dawn of a New Political Era
In October 2022, when Rishi Sunak took over as British prime minister, he became the fifth British prime minister to take up the position over a six-year span.
Unleashed on the UK by Brexit, this signified unprecedented political turmoil. So how might we describe what is unfolding in France, now on its sixth premier in 24 months – three of them in the last ten months?
The latest prime minister, the newly reinstated Sébastien Lecornu, may have gained a brief respite on that day, sacrificing Emmanuel Macron’s flagship pensions overhaul in exchange for support from Socialist lawmakers as the cost of his administration's continuation.
But it is, in the best case, a temporary fix. The EU’s number two economic power is trapped in a political permacrisis, the likes of which it has not experienced for decades – possibly not since the start of its Fifth French Republic in 1958 – and from which there appears no easy escape.
Governing Without a Majority
Key background: ever since Macron called an ill-advised snap general election in 2024, the nation has had a divided assembly split into three opposing factions – left, far right and his own centrist coalition – none with anything close to a majority.
At the same time, the nation faces twin financial emergencies: its national debt level and budget shortfall are now almost twice the EU limit, and strict legal timelines 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 took office from December 2024 to September 2025 – were ousted by the assembly.
In September, the leader named his trusted associate Lecornu as his latest PM. But when, a little over two weeks ago, Lecornu unveiled his new cabinet – which turned out to be largely unchanged from before – he encountered anger from allies and opponents alike.
So much so that the following day, he stepped down. After only 27 days as premier, Lecornu became the briefest-serving prime minister in recent French history. In a dignified speech, he cited political rigidity, saying “partisan attitudes” and “personal ambitions” would make his job virtually unworkable.
A further unexpected development: shortly after Lecornu’s resignation, Macron requested he remain for two more days in a last-ditch effort to secure multi-party support – a task, to put it gently, not without complications.
Next, two of Macron’s former PMs openly criticized the embattled president. Meanwhile, the right-wing RN and leftist LFI refused to meet Lecornu, promising to vote down any and every new government unless there were snap elections.
Lecornu stuck at his job, engaging with all willing listeners. 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 name a fresh premier two days later.
Macron honored his word – and on that Friday reappointed Sébastien Lecornu. So recently – with Macron helpfully sniping from the sidelines that the country’s rival political parties were “creating discord” and “solely responsible for this chaos” – was Lecornu’s moment of truth. Would he endure – and is he able to approve the crucial budget?
In a critical address, the 39-year-old PM outlined his financial plans, giving the centre-left Socialist party (PS), who oppose Macron’s controversial pension changes, what they were expecting: Macron’s key policy would be frozen until 2027.
With the conservative Les Républicains (LR) already on board, the Socialists said they would refuse to support censorship votes proposed against Lecornu by the extremist factions – meaning the administration would likely endure those ballots, scheduled for Thursday.
It is, however, by no means certain to be able to approve its €30bn austerity budget: the PS clearly stated that it would be seeking more concessions. “This,” said its head, Olivier Faure, “is only the beginning.”
A Cultural Shift
The problem is, the greater concessions he makes to the left, the more opposition he'll face from the right. And, similar to the Socialists, the right-leaning parties are themselves divided over how to handle the new government – some are still itching to topple it.
A look at the seat numbers shows how tough Lecornu’s task – and future viability – will be. A total of 264 deputies from the RN, radical-left LFI, Greens, Communists and hardline-right UDR want him out.
To achieve that, 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 (or both) to vote with them, Macron’s fifth precarious prime minister in 24 months is, like his predecessors, toast.
Most expect this to occur soon. Even if, by an unlikely turn, the divided parliament summons up the collective responsibility to approve a budget this year, the prospects for the government beyond that look grim.
So does an exit exist? Snap elections would be unlikely to solve the problem: polls suggest nearly all parties except the RN would see reduced representation, but there would still be no clear majority. A new prime minister would face the same intractable arithmetic.
An alternative 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 following election. But that, too, is uncertain.
Polls suggest the future president will be Marine Le Pen or Jordan Bardella. There is at least an odds-on chance that France’s voters, having chosen a far-right leader, might reconsider giving them parliamentary power.
In the end, France may not emerge from its quagmire until its leaders acknowledge the changed landscape, which is that decisive majorities are a bygone phenomenon, winner-takes-all no longer applies, 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 prove anything but temporary.
“The system wasn't built to encourage – and even disincentivizes – the formation of ruling alliances common in the rest of Europe. The Fifth Republic may well have entered its terminal phase.”