Now what?

The Lecornu government is no more, only hours after being named. I will waste no words on what went wrong: Lecornu was doomed from the beginning, because neither he nor his master Macron had any intention of delivering the promised “ruptures.” In the end, the Lecornu government was not simply a retread of its two predecessors but, with the appointment of Bruno Le Maire to replace Lecornu at the defense ministry, an insult to Lecornu’s only supporters, many of whom hold Le Maire responsible for France’s fiscal difficulties.

Retailleau, despite being kept on as interior minister, delivered the coup de grâce by denouncing the failure to achieve said ruptures and announcing a meeting of the LR governing council to reconsider its support. The way forward was thus foreclosed. Even le socle commun began to disintegrate, and Gabriel Attal, the nominal leader of the Macronists, criticized Macron for not following the “method” that he, Attal, had proposed, namely, for the PM to seek agreement, German-style, to the “what” before the “who” (a good idea, in my opinion, but perhaps impossible in the ballet of ambitions unleashed by the impending (perhaps sooner rather than later) presidential election.

What now? Macron can dissolve the parliament yet again–a pure roll of the dice. He can turn to the left, or what’s left of it, as various commentators are calling on him to do. Or he can resign himself.

I persist in thinking that the third option will not be taken, despite Olivier Faure’s stentorian praise of Lecornu for his “Gaullist” decision to fall on his sword. When you lose, de Gaulle’s example is taken to have proved, the honorable thing is to resign. But Macron’s identification with the general goes only so far.

What of turning to the left? What left, I ask? LFI will not cooperate with the PS or other parties, A dark horse compromise candidate–a Lucie Castets redux–will not unite the left this time, and Macron wouldn’t risk it anyway. A center-left candidate might be an option: Bernard Cazeneuve has volunteered himself; a more inspiring choice would be Raphaël Glucksmann. But neither of these men is likely to survive a censure vote: LFI and RN will not accept them, LR may not. Even the centrist rump may not. So the path is very narrow, if it exists at all.

Dissolution could produce an Assembly with something more nearly resembling a majority than the present one, but it would probably be a Le Penist majority, which Macron has portrayed himself as wanting to avoid. But there may be no other way out. Retailleau will not say it out loud, but it’s not impossible that he and his LR would be willing to enter into a coalition led by the RN. If, say, a Prime Minister Bardella proved to be incompetent or an embarrassment, Retailleau’s own presidential hopes could thereby be enhanced.

One could explore other possible permutations and/or rabbits-in-the-hat, but what would be the point? For now, France remains mired in the quicksand of a deeply divided legislature and a deeply fractured electorate. Macron has no good choices. Nearly everyone in politics and out wants to see his back, but Narcissus stands transfixed in front of his mirror, wondering why he no longer hears cheers rising from the adoring crowd he is sure remains standing just outside the palace gates.