Future of France: Mélenchon and the French Runoff pt. II

This is part II of our Future of France series, where Manuel Cervera-Marzal dives into the political realities of France in the run-up to the 2027 presidential election. Originally  published here in French on Hors Série.

Mélenchon and the national narrative

Jean-Luc Mélenchon’s own patriotism is situated within this lineage. Contrary to ethnic or culturalist conceptions of the nation, his patriotism is based on a definition that is both civic and plebeian. This means defining the nation as a community of citizens united by a contract, by equal rights and by a common will, but also by a shared social condition, made up of suffering, toil, and dignity.

From this perspective, ‘the republic’ is not a racist slogan aimed at excluding Muslims and so-called communalists. Rather, it is an active principle that continues the drive that began with the Revolution, and establishes a shared community of fate. In recent years, Mélenchon has also drawn on the notion of ‘creolisation’, borrowed from Édouard Glissant, and subsequently the idea of the ‘New France’. This helps conceive of the nation as a living project, shaped by multiple legacies, a blending of origins and generational renewal, yet unified by a common political agenda.

Mélenchon’s patriotism places the left within a long historical continuity, which pays attention to the construction of the French state and the nation’s development over time. Mélenchon’s recurrent references to figures from French history, including even certain founding kings, demonstrate this commitment not to cede the national narrative to the right. The aim is to reassert that the French nation is the product of a political history, shaped by conflicts, ruptures and re-foundations, and that it cannot be appropriated by an identitarian view or by colonial nostalgia.

In the second-round campaign, Mélenchon will make full use of this patriotic appeal. By linking a plebeian and creolised conception of the nation to a civic and republican tradition, Mélenchon will speak to an audience beyond his own camp. For his (left-wing) patriotism resonates with other French political traditions, notably Gaullism and the anti-fascist republican right, which is committed to national independence, the leading role of the state, and France’s ability to make its own decisions in a multipolar world. In other words, there is common ground between left-wing voters, centrists and a section of the right.

This is not to say Mélenchon will ever be a consensual candidate. But he can rally different forces by embodying a certain idea of France — one that is sufficiently open-ended for everyone to interpret it as they wish, and engage with it in their own way. Conversely, Bardella’s inexperience and the RN’s links to foreign networks – whether Russian or pro-Trumpian ones – will raise doubts in voters committed to French patriotism.

Mélenchon less popular… but a more plausible president than Bardella

The question of governmental credibility is also a decisive factor. In a second-round campaign, voters are prompted to consider not only which programme they prefer, but also which candidate they believe is capable of exercising power. This dimension of ‘perceived competence’ has been extensively studied. Voters may agree to vote for a candidate whose positions they do not share, if they believe this candidate has the necessary qualities to govern.[1] In a Mélenchon-Bardella contest, the comparison favours the former. It reflects quantifiable differences in terms of experience, but also credibility and presidential stature. Mélenchon has over forty years of political experience, including both parliamentary and ministerial responsibilities, while Bardella’s experience is limited to positions in his own party, and a term in the European Parliament.

These differences are reflected in the French public’s perceptions of these two candidates. Opinion polls show that Bardella currently enjoys high popularity – he is credited with 39 percent support in the latest Odoxa barometer, making him one of the best-placed political figures in France. But this popularity must be put into perspective: it relates to image indicators (likability, visibility, name recognition) rather than judgements of governmental competence or presidential stature, which shape the vote in the second round.

In this regard, the available data suggests a contrast that favours Mélenchon. Bardella is a political figure perceived as still unpolished. Among his supporters, his presidential candidacy is still considered ‘premature’. He is not deemed fully prepared to exercise power. In other words, his popularity coexists with doubts about his ability to step up into the highest office.

Conversely, Mélenchon faces strong disapproval in certain segments of public opinion: the Odoxa barometer ranks him among the most divisive figures in French politics (66 percent of voters disapprove). And yet, this data must be interpreted with caution: as political science has shown, the most central figures in the electoral arena are also the most polarising. Above all, this disapproval coexists with recognition of his political skills, his mastery of the issues, and his ability to exercise power.

In reality, the available indicators suggest distinguishing between two dimensions: popularity and plausibility as a future president. Bardella currently leads on the former count, but remains vulnerable on the latter. Mélenchon, by contrast, is a more divisive figure, yet his ability to govern is firmly established in public opinion. In a second-round vote, where voters make their choice less on the basis of their ideological preferences than on their assessment of the candidates’ credibility, this second criterion becomes decisive.

On Mélenchon’s unpopularity

The arguments concerning Mélenchon’s unpopularity thus need to be put into perspective. Indeed, the recent history of the European and Latin American left offers several examples of controversial candidates with minority support who did nonetheless manage to win power.

The case of Pedro Sánchez is particularly illuminating. In 2016, following two successive electoral defeats, he was forced to resign as leader of Spain’s Socialists (PSOE), having been abandoned by his own party colleagues. A year later, he returned to the PSOE leadership despite the opposition of the party establishment. He was in a precarious position, without a majority and with a badly tarnished public image. In 2018, he was neither the favourite in the polls nor backed by a rising popular movement. Yet, against all odds, he managed to reach power, ousting the conservative Prime Minister Mariano Rajoy through a vote of no-confidence, and then strengthening his own electoral position over the years that followed. Thus, in France’s neighbour Spain, an unpopular and isolated left-wing leader could suddenly emerge as the only credible alternative, and rally a majority coalition around himself.

The Greek case follows a similar pattern. Alexis Tsipras, at the head of Syriza, led a fledgling coalition in 2015, perceived as radical and lacking credibility by a large section of the European elite but, above all, by Greek voters. Yet, against a backdrop of acute crisis and rejection of the traditional parties, he transformed this minority position into a majority dynamic and came to power.

Jeremy Corbyn offers another instructive example, in an unfavourable British context marked by social-liberal hegemony and rising xenophobia. He was long one of Britain’s most unpopular politicians — including within his own party — and ahead of the 2017 general election it was assumed that he would lose heavily. Yet, during the campaign, he spectacularly boosted the Labour Party’s vote share, which reached 40 per cent, an increase of nearly 10 percentage points compared to the previous election. Corbyn didn’t win power. Still, he demonstrated that a figure deemed ‘too divisive’ and accused of ‘antisemitism’ can, in a matter of weeks, defy all the predictions.

Finally, the case of Lula in Brazil highlights the importance of long-term efforts. Before he was first elected president in 2002, Lula had suffered several defeats in such contests, and was long considered too radical to govern. His victory in that year’s presidential election, with 61.3 percent of the vote in the second round, was not the result of great personal popularity but — and this is the key difference — a process of building political legitimacy, combining social roots, policy credibility and a coalition of diverse forces.

These various examples teach the same lesson: popularity is neither a prerequisite for victory nor something stable and given. It can change rapidly, under the influence of a campaign, a crisis or a realignment of the political landscape. From this perspective, Mélenchon’s situation is not unusual. Like Tsipras, Corbyn or Sánchez in their time, he is a divisive figure, rejected by the majority of the public, yet firmly rooted in a significant electoral bloc — nearly 22 percent of the vote in 2022 — and recognised for his competence.

Rather Hitler than the (New) Popular Front?

The final outcome will in large part depend on the stance taken by centrist voters. For lack of their own candidate in the runoff, Macron’s supporters will find themselves having to vote for one of several unwanted options: they will have to choose between abstention, a ‘blank vote’ [i.e. registering their refusal to back either candidate], a vote for the RN or a vote for Mélenchon. As always in this kind of situation, there will be no single answer, but a variety of socially differentiated behaviours.

A first section of this electorate, as well as certain figures within the Macron camp, is already deep into a process of right-wing radicalisation. There is not much mystery about where they are headed. Figures such as Gérald Darmanin, Rachida Dati and Raphaël Enthoven have, in recent years, repeatedly taken positions that objectively align them with the far right. Enthoven, an organic intellectual of the Macron camp, has explicitly stated that he would prefer Le Pen to Mélenchon. This amounts to adopting a reactionary approach — ‘Rather Hitler than the Popular Front’ — which has historically underpinned pro-fascist stances directed against the left. In the eyes of Bruno Retailleau, Macron’s Minister of the Interior, the rule of law is ‘neither intangible nor sacred’.

This swing toward the far right also involves a large section of big business. Billionaire Bernard Arnault, who actively supported Emmanuel Macron in 2017, embodies this shift among a section of French capitalism towards positions compatible with the far right. As Marlène Benquet and Théo Bourgeron demonstrated in 2021,[2] it would be mistaken to view this as a mere ideological drift, or an instance of ‘liberal elites ‘betraying’ their values: rather, it involves definite economic interests. These researchers’ investigation highlights the decisive role of a specific faction of capital – the most aggressive and financialised segments of the business world (hedge funds, private equity, speculative finance) – in supporting authoritarian political projects, from Trump to Bolsonaro.

These factions of capital seek to free themselves from the regulatory and institutional constraints inherited from the neoliberal era. They want to impose a more brutal regime of deregulation, even if to achieve this they will have to rely on authoritarian political forces. Against a backdrop of international realignment marked by the rise of Trumpism, some of France’s wealthiest individuals might thus be tempted to support a candidate such as Bardella, seen as a potential vehicle for this ‘second financialisation’.

This shift to the right is more broadly observable among Macron’s electorate. In their Nouvelle cartographie électorale de la France (2026),[3] Youssef Souidi and Thomas Vonderscher show that his electorate became significantly more right-wing between 2017 and 2022. Whereas 38 percent of Macron’s voters were on the left in 2017, five years later this group accounted for just 19 percent of his electorate, whilst the right-wing share from 27 percent to 45 percent. This structural shift in Macron’s base means that a portion of his current supporters come from the traditional right, or even its most conservative segments.

This group encompasses the voters most likely to switch to the RN in the second round. Sociologically, this includes some of the affluent classes and privileged urban areas – typically the middle-class neighbourhoods of western Paris – whose right-wing turn in terms of their voting behaviour has been documented for several years now. Some of these voters have already made this shift in recent elections, turning from Macron to Zemmour. For them, a vote for Bardella will seem like a logical continuation. But this dynamic must not obscure the existence of a second, equally significant grouping within the Macron camp.

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The other Macron camp

For another section of the centrist electorate will make the opposite choice. They will turn to Mélenchon, not out of agreement with his platform but out of rejection of the political, institutional and cultural implications of a far-right victory. This segment corresponds to what might be called the liberal bourgeoisie in the political and cultural sense of the term: supportive of the market economy, hostile to the left’s economic programme, yet committed to civil liberties, the rule of law and the fight against discrimination. It is within this bloc that we find figures such as Gabriel Attal, Clément Beaune and Élisabeth Borne — and, to a certain extent, François Bayrou, who called for a vote for [the Socialist Party’s] Ségolène Royal against [conservative] Nicolas Sarkozy in 2007.

For this electorate, the choice to vote for Mélenchon will be guided by values as much as by interests. It will not be a matter of supporting his programme, but of avoiding what they consider a dangerous swing to the far right. Countries led by the RN’s allies — Viktor Orbán in Hungary, Jair Bolsonaro in Brazil, Donald Trump in the United States — offer a foretaste of this threat: challenges to the independence of the judiciary, pressure on media, attacks on minorities, and restrictions on civil rights. These examples weigh heavily in the electoral decisions of the liberal middle and upper classes.

This stance also applies to some business leaders. Certain top executives or senior managers – such as Mathieu Pigasse, Olivier Legrain or Michel-Édouard Leclerc – might call for a vote for Mélenchon. They might qualify their support by mentioning their reservations, but also consider him more compatible with institutional stability and economic predictability than a far-right government.

The media landscape is likely to follow a similar logic. Franc-Tireur and Marianne will complete their shift to the right and, through some convoluted reasoning or other, back an RN presidency. On the other hand, publications ranging from L’Express to Le Monde have always refused to place left-wing and far-right candidates on the same footing. Their editorials will call, explicitly or implicitly, for a united front against the RN. Here, again, the reasons are inextricably ideological and practical: journalists know they can continue to practise their profession under a left-wing government, whereas press freedom is directly under attack from far-right regimes.

Where will the centrist vote go?

In short, the question is this one: which section of the centrist electorate will be the largest? The one that swings towards the RN, or the one that shifts its support to Mélenchon? The available data provides some answers — and the 2024 parliamentary elections served as a full-scale test case. In the 147 head-to-head contests between the left (NFP) and the far right, voters from the Macronite coalition largely blocked the RN. The NFP thus won two-thirds of these contests. The blocking strategy worked overall.

Statistics from Vonderscher and Souidi, based on a survey of 70,000 polling stations, show that, in these scenarios, the left-wing candidate gained ground between the two rounds (+11 points), which necessarily implied a shift of votes from centrist and moderate right-wing electorates. Admittedly, this shift was incomplete — the NFP captures only part of its potential ‘voting base’ — but the key point is another one: namely, that the far right did not benefit massively from these votes.

Post-election analyses agree on this point: ‘republican front’ vote transfers in the second round were, overall, more favourable to the left than they were to the RN. According to the Ipsos poll for Franceinfo on 8 July 2024, around 50 percent of Macronist voters backed the left-wing candidate in head-to-head contests against the RN, compared with only 17 percent who chose the far right. In France Insoumise–RN head-to-heads, 43 percent of Macronites voted for La France Insoumise, 19 percent for the RN, and 38 percent abstained or cast a blank vote.

This result is encouraging for 2027. It shows that, despite Emmanuel Macron’s equating of twin ‘extremes’, his voters are more inclined towards a republican front than towards rallying behind the far right. Even against a backdrop of the political and media landscape shifting sharply to the right, the RN continues to worry and put off a significant proportion of centrist voters. 

Offering concessions (and ministerial posts), in order to rally support

Finally, alongside these structural factors there is also a more strategic one: Mélenchon’s ability to make political steps that help organise this transfer of votes. Contrary to the widespread depiction of an ever-isolated or sectarian candidate, Mélenchon has already demonstrated, on two occasions, his ability to build broad coalitions. In the 2022 and 2024 parliamentary elections, when Mélenchon could have gone it alone, he instead played a leading role in forming electoral alliances uniting the entire left. This ability to bring together political forces is a major asset in a second-round scenario.

It is likely that, between the two rounds, Mélenchon will adopt a unifying stance. This will involve announcing a pluralist government, incorporating the various components of the left, but also certain figures from the centre-right, such as Dominique de Villepin or Jacques Toubon. Such a strategy would reassure Macron’s supporters by signalling that the exercise of power would not be monopolised by a single political faction or by a single individual.

There are historical precedents for this kind of arrangement. In presidentialist electoral systems, candidates in second-round runoffs systematically seek to broaden their base by sending signals to parts of the electorate who are not their natural supporters. In this case, Mélenchon will seek to soften his image without forsaking his programme, by making a series of concrete gestures towards the centre-left and the centre.

He may also announce that certain divisive measures will be subject to consensus-building conferences or public consultations, particularly on European or international issues. Finally, by promoting a less top-down approach to governance — for example, by committing to a strengthened role for Parliament and mechanisms for public oversight, as proposed by his Sixth Republic — he will seek to reassure an electorate concerned about France Insoumise’s caesarist way of doing politics. These are all signals which — without undermining the coherence of his project — may make the prospect of a second-round vote for Mélenchon more palatable for undecided voters.

Overall, everything suggests that the centre will not be divided symmetrically between the two candidates. A significant proportion will swing towards the RN, particularly among the most right-leaning and affluent segments of Macron’s camp. But another proportion — the largest — will shift to Mélenchon, whilst a third will choose to abstain or cast a blank vote.

This asymmetry stems from several factors: the persistence of a reflex to block the far right, observed empirically in the 2024 elections; the attachment of part of the centre to civil liberties and the rule of law; patriotic sentiment; and Mélenchon’s ability to build a broad political platform, to demonstrate openness and to send signals of unity.

But, even if the majority of the centrist electorate shifts its support to Mélenchon, this will not necessarily be enough to make up for his first-round deficit against the RN and secure him final victory. The second lever lies elsewhere, in a broader and more volatile electoral space: that of abstention. For the electoral contest between the two rounds is not merely a battle of vote transfers between already electorates who have already turned out. It is also about voters who stayed at home in the first round and whom a unique second-round line-up could draw back to the polling stations.

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The surge in turnout: the key to the election

A second round pitting the radical left against the far right would create a level of electoral conflict such as we have never experienced before. It would be the first such case in the Fifth Republic’s history. Until now, presidential run-offs have pitted two political variants compatible with capitalism against one another. In 2027, the situation will be entirely different: voters will face a clear, unprecedented, uncompromising choice between two irreconcilably antagonistic visions of society. This type of polarisation boosts turnout, because it makes the vote more decisive than usual.

It is worth noting that abstention is unevenly distributed across society. It is particularly high among young people and the working classes. Yet these sociological groups are also those whose political preferences appear, on average, to favour redistributive and egalitarian policies. Non-voters do not constitute an ideologically homogeneous bloc, and quantitative surveys suggest we should abandon the notion of a ‘hidden treasure’ naturally won over by the left. CEVIPOF data suggests that there is no significant statistical correlation between the propensity to abstain and adherence to left-wing values: the proportion of people on the left is virtually identical among regular voters and abstainers. On the other hand, this same research confirms the strong social structure of abstention. It remains higher among young people, the working classes and those in the most precarious situations.

These social groups are the same ones which are, on average, more favourable to economic redistribution and social equality. The existence of large-scale abstention thus tends to skew political representation in favour of older and more integrated voters, who are often more conservative, whilst the more open-minded or egalitarian segments of the population participate less. Under these circumstances, the challenge for the left is to remobilise social groups that are structurally aligned with it.

In other words, a polarised second round could encourage higher turnout among some voters who usually stay away. This boosted turnout is likely to benefit Mélenchon.

Non-voters as the left’s main source of potential support

The available data on abstention is rich in lessons. Sociologist Tristan Haute, in a 2024 article,[4] shows that, among those situated ‘on the fringes of the left’ (people who do not vote for the left but who identify as left-wing, who share left-wing values and/or who have voted for the left in the past), the largest group consists of intermittent abstainers. Among this ‘fringes of the left’ group, 50 percent did not vote in the 2024 parliamentary election, compared with 18 percent who voted for [pro-Macron party] Ensemble and only 8 percent who voted for the RN. It is thus clear that some groups of voters are more promising than others: the left’s main source of potential extra votes lies neither in the centre (the ‘left-wing Macronists’) nor on the far right (the so-called ‘fed-up-but-not-fascist, fachés pas fachos’ voters), but among abstainers who are already relatively close to the left.

This proximity is reflected in attitudes. The abstainer wing of self-identifying left-wing French people – as defined above – stands close to Nouveau Front Populaire voters on several key issues. 86.2 percent of them are in favour of a general increase in wages, almost as many as Nouveau Front Populaire voters (86.5 percent). 65.1 percent believe that environmental considerations should take precedence over economic growth. 59.5 percent support legal recognition for transgender people. 67.7 percent support the recognition of the Palestinian state. Only 28.1 percent consider that there are ‘too many immigrants’ in France, a figure far lower than the 85.9 score observed among people on the ‘fringes of the left’ who vote for the RN. On the fringes of the left, there are millions of unregistered voters and abstainers who are more in favour of economic redistribution, more environmentally conscious and more culturally open than the average French person.

Statistically speaking, abstainers therefore constitute the main – though not the only – pool of votes potentially favourable to Mélenchon.

The RN’s glass ceiling

Conversely, over the last twenty years, the RN appears to have already largely tapped into its main source of growth. Its rise has been built on two mechanisms: on the one hand, the gradual capture of voters from the traditional right; on the other, the absorption of a section of former non-voters driven by nationalist, racist or anti-immigrant sentiments. This does not mean that the RN has no further room for growth, but that the most accessible part of its reserves has already been integrated into its core support base. In other words, the RN can certainly consolidate and retain its core support, but it will struggle to expand it. Among the 10 to 12 million French people who abstain in the first round of the presidential election, it does not have a pool of potential voters comparable to the one the left can hope to draw on.

We could put it more bluntly. The RN has already done most of its groundwork. It has absorbed a large part of the traditional right-wing vote, secured the loyalty of its working-class electorate, and normalised its presence in sections of society that, until recently rejected it outright. The left, by contrast, still suffers from massive electoral under-mobilisation among social groups that do share its ideas and values. It is this gap that makes the second round potentially favourable to Mélenchon: if turnout rises sharply, there are good reasons to believe that this upswing will benefit the France Insoumise candidate more than the RN.

This is, in fact, the strategic gamble put forward by France Insoumise coordinator Manuel Bompard when he speaks of winning over a ‘fourth bloc’ of voters.[5] Bompard identifies two avenues for expanding the left’s support base: on the one hand, abstainers, and on the other, the most ‘socially minded’ section of the RN electorate in rural areas. But he also emphasises that the first avenue is the most decisive and, in practice, the most formative. He has acknowledged the failure of [France Insoumise’s past] strategy aimed at winning over the fachés pas fachos.[6] In other words, the priority is not to soften the left’s rhetoric to appeal to working-class voters driven by racist sentiments; it is to remobilise a precarious, abstentionist bloc that already shares the left’s values and aspirations.

This approach has a direct implication for the period between the two rounds. Mélenchon will not merely seek to reassure the centre and highlight the RN’s economic and geopolitical contradictions. He will also do everything in his power to frame this second round as a rallying point for those who do not usually vote: young people from working-class neighbourhoods, precarious workers, temporary employees, and disillusioned citizens who are put off by politics but who may return to the polls when they feel that a historic choice is on the table. The call for them to turn out will rely on a language of radical change, through an appeal to dignity, through the defence of public services, through the condemnation of racist violence and arbitrary police power. But it will also count on the idea that ‘at last’, this time, the ballot paper will offer a ‘real choice’.

This probably offers the ultimate key to the second round. The centre will matter, of course. The TV debate will matter. The contradictions within the RN will matter. But, if the election becomes what it could become — a moment of historic confrontation, an unprecedented duel between the far right and the radical left — then eating into abstention and driving up turnout will be the main challenge over the fortnight before the runoff vote. And everything in the surveys of non-voters suggests that this renewed mobilisation would be to Mélenchon’s advantage.

There is nothing certain about this prognosis. It is a probability grounded in sociological analysis. Yet, it may well be the key to the whole scenario. For Mélenchon’s victory in the second round would not require winning over large numbers of RN voters or converting Macron supporters to anti-capitalism. Rather, it requires stirring the patriotic sentiments of the republican right, reminding the liberal bourgeoisie that their interests would be less threatened by Mélenchon than by the RN, and turning out potential supporters who, until now, had stopped voting. It means winning around people who had previously abstained, even though their social status, economic expectations and political aspirations already bring them close to France Insoumise’s programme.

Translated by David Broder