Meet Gabriel Attal, France’s young prime minister

Standing side by side at a war memorial in Ottawa, two leaders prepared to lay a wreath in honour of their countries’ fallen soldiers. The Canadian, Justin Trudeau, was once one of the West’s youngest leaders. The Frenchman, Gabriel Attal, is France’s youngest modern prime minister. As he stepped forward the 35-year-old Mr Attal glanced, more than once, at his elder counterpart for protocol cues. On his first official trip outside Europe, the fresh-faced French leader was on full display and did not want to put a foot wrong.

Mr Attal was propelled into his new job by President Emmanuel Macron in January, in an attempt to reboot an ailing government. Since then, the prime minister has faced a string of troubles, from angry farmers and teenage ultra-violence to deteriorating public finances. His recent trip to Canada provided a welcome break. Mr Attal got to discuss geopolitics with Mr Trudeau, review Canadian troops, woo investors, sign autographs for schoolchildren and blush at a long standing ovation by the Quebec parliament. When it comes to Quebec’s status, the French tread on perilous diplomatic ground; Mr Attal dodged provocation. “He’s a fast learner, and not just about protocol,” notes a French minister.

After four months in the job, Mr Attal remains France’s second most-popular politician, after Edouard Philippe, an ex-prime minister, and way ahead of his boss, Mr Macron, in 20th place. Yet even Mr Attal’s star is beginning to wane. His approval ratings have slipped by nine points in some polls since he took office. Michel Rocard, prime minister in 1988-1991, once called the job “hell”. The incumbent is blamed for all that goes wrong, overshadowed by a powerful presidency and subject to eviction at any moment on presidential orders. Only two of France’s 24 past prime ministers of the fifth republic have gone on to the top job.

Despite all this, Mr Attal seems to be in his element. He relishes tough public debate, and has a knack for plain speaking and a common touch that tend to elude his Jupiterian boss. Of a generation that grew up with social media and expectations of transparency, Mr Attal cited Jul, a French rapper, in a recent post and has spoken movingly about how he was bullied at school for being gay, coming out to his sick father only on his deathbed. A small group of young advisers, who have followed him for years, lend an informality that lightens the load of office.

If there is a mystery about Mr Attal, it concerns his political convictions. Critics say he lacks an ideological backbone, and that there is little behind the public polish. A former Socialist, he sounds decidedly like an old-fashioned conservative. In his previous job as education minister he banned the abaya, a long Muslim robe, in state schools, in line with strict French secular rules. Mr Attal speaks constantly about “youth”, but his political watchwords are “authority”, and the need to “defend” or “protect”. Remarkably, 51% of over-65s approve of him, next to 34% of 25- to 34-year-olds.

Back in his office after his Canadian jaunt, the suburban-Paris-born Mr Attal insists he remains driven by the values that first drew him to politics, and is “revolted” when life chances are dictated by social background. Like Mr Macron, he believes in “empowerment”, investing in giving people a better chance. But he dislikes the label centrist, judging it “too tepid”. Their shared politics are not about being “a bit on the left and a bit on the right”, says Mr Attal, but “going beyond both: being more radical than the left on some subjects, more radical than the right on others”. The government has written abortion rights into the French constitution, a campaign issue on the left. It has also tightened immigration rules, a classic obsession on the right.

What distinguishes his approach, suggests Mr Attal, who is a decade younger than Mr Macron, is a different generational frame. Both stress the importance of work, for instance, and better equipping people for jobs. Mr Attal, from a generation scarred by pandemic lockdowns, is particularly keen to forge a better balance between work and personal life. In the country that invented the 35-hour working week, he has called for a “week in four days”—not, he quickly adds, less working time, but the same amount packed into fewer days.

Those who know Mr Attal well have no doubt that his eyes are on the Elysée. “He’s a political machine,” says one, and is working Paris networks methodically. Yet Mr Attal governs without a parliamentary majority. Polls suggest that his centrist grouping will be trounced by Marine Le Pen’s hard right at elections to the European Parliament in June (see the latest odds with our poll tracker). Her party list is led by Jordan Bardella, a 28-year-old who makes Mr Attal look grey-haired.

In the coming months any opposition party could seize an opportunity to table a no-confidence motion, in a bid to topple the government. Mr Attal may have a long-term plan, and surely hopes to inherit the centre ground from Mr Macron, who cannot run for a third consecutive term. In the short run, his challenge may be survival. ■

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