Cradling his demi of beer with a tattooed arm, Jocelyn needs few words to sum up the upcoming French election: “It’s all about Macron”. In the small town of Châteaudun, in rural west-central France, he is sitting at a pavement café on the main square, shaded by plane trees, just days before the first round of French parliamentary elections on June 30th. An industrial-machine operator, Jocelyn has no doubt as to the way fellow voters will show their displeasure at the French president, Emmanuel Macron: by backing Marine Le Pen’s hard-right National Rally (RN). The RN, he says, “used to have an image as a racist and fascist party, but not any more.”
Home to some 13,000 inhabitants, Châteaudun is as close as France gets to a town that reflects the country. Its outskirts are approached via a drive-in McDonald’s and a “Buffalo Grill” steakhouse; its town centre is a handsome mix of medieval and renaissance architecture. On the main square, with its ornate centrepiece fountain, a Turkish kebab shop nestles between a hairdresser’s and a pharmacy. At the past four presidential elections the town has voted in line with the nation, too. In 2022 58% of the townsfolk backed Mr Macron against Ms Le Pen, almost exactly the score the centrist secured countrywide. Then, at voting for the European Parliament on June 9th, the town swung the other way: 33% supported the RN, just a touch above the national average.
Châteaudun is now bracing for a surge in support for the RN at the parliamentary elections. This has multiple causes; the president has become a lightning rod for all of them. Philippe Vigier, the town’s centrist parliamentary candidate and outgoing deputy, has strong local roots and has been criss-crossing the constituency daily. He describes a “feeling of abandon”, with particular anger felt in the surrounding countryside and villages.
Locals offer other explanations, too. “Our bills have gone up, so have petrol prices, but we need to use our car around here,” says Pascal, a welder, drinking coffee on the main square. His friend, a retired stonemason, thinks the discontent is more about “the need for authority” and crime. José, who would like a Socialist or Green government, argues that the anger is to do with Mr Macron’s pension reform, which raised the legal minimum retirement age from 62 years to 64. “What we need”, he says, “is just change”.
Fabien Verdier, Châteaudun’s independent mayor, points to a paradox. In reality, the town, like France as a whole, has plenty going for it. The hospital has expanded its day-surgery unit. Safran Aerosystems, a French engine-manufacturer, has jobs going at its precision-mechanics plant. Vorwerk, a German manufacturer, is creating 120 new jobs and investing €129m ($138m) at a second factory in the town to produce Thermomix food-processors. Mr Verdier has advanced plans for a small civilian airport as part of a project to develop an industrial-aerospace hub. “In fact we have trouble finding people to fill jobs,” says Florence Viltart, director of the Adecco jobs agency in the town. For Mr Verdier, who runs an association of small towns across France, re-industrialisation “is a rampart against the political extremes”.
Yet for now that rampart looks fragile. Far from bringing voters back to the centre, Mr Macron’s unexpected decision to call a snap election has pushed them further away. France is no stranger to revolution, and seems to be gripped by a rebellious fervour that could usher in a form of political instability that the country has not seen for decades. It is almost as if the president looked at his poor European election results, and said, with a mix of bravery and recklessness: OK, you don’t want me, but just see what happens if you vote for the others.
The Economist’s poll tracker on June 26th gave an unprecedented first-round lead to the RN and its allies, with a poll average of 37%. The New Popular Front (NFP), a four-party left-wing alliance led by Jean-Luc Mélenchon’s party, comes second on 29%. Mr Macron’s centrist friends trail in third place, on 21%. Such is the president’s damaged brand that many of his own candidates are not using his photo on their campaign flyers. Allies have begun to distance themselves from him. “He killed off the presidential majority,” said his former prime minister, Edouard Philippe.
At this stage, second-round polling is perilous; qualifying candidates (who must secure at least 12.5% of registered voters) can drop out under tactical deals. Tentative projections by four different polling agencies from June 19th-26th suggest that the RN might gain a massive 200-305 of 577 seats, up from 88; the upper limit of this range would give it a majority. The NFP might secure 125-240. Mr Macron’s alliance could be shrunken to a rump of 65-100. A raft of deputies, and some ministers, could lose their seats, possibly in the first round.
In constituencies where a centrist candidate fails to make the second round, or stands down for tactical reasons, this could present centrist voters with a tough decision at the run-off on July 7th. Clément Beaune, a left-leaning centrist and former minister under Mr Macron, argues for a tactical vote against the RN under any circumstances. This could mean asking moderate voters to back the NFP, which promises a raft of heavy new taxes on income, wealth and profits. According to Allianz, an insurer, the NFP’s plans, if implemented, would push France’s budget deficit even wider than the RN’s (see chart).
Wary of such worries, and keen to sound reasonable, Jordan Bardella, Ms Le Pen’s 28-year-old candidate for prime minister, this week scaled back some promises. In office, insists Jean-Philippe Tanguy, who works on the RN’s economic policy, the party would curb the budget deficit to respect euro-zone rules by 2027.
The French go to the polls on edge. Many are at a loss to explain what voters may be about to do: plunge the country into chronic uncertainty. A poll for the Fondation Jean-Jaurès, a think-tank, found that the predominant feelings in France right now are fatigue, anger, sadness and fear. A month from the opening of the Paris Olympics, this was supposed to be a time when the nation would come together. Instead, it seems apprehensive and more divided than ever. ■
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