With 364 lawmakers voting no confidence, the prime minister heads to the Élysée to resign as Socialists press to govern, the far left targets Macron himself, and Le Pen demands a dissolution.

France’s minority government collapsed late Monday after a bruising confidence vote in the National Assembly, leaving President Emmanuel Macron scrambling to appoint a new prime minister within days and raising fresh questions about how the eurozone’s second‑largest economy will be governed. Prime Minister François Bayrou, 74, whose nine‑month tenure was defined by a contentious, deficit‑cutting agenda, lost the vote by 364 to 194. He is due at the Élysée Palace to tender his resignation, clearing the way for a caretaker interlude while Macron tests the limits of a fragmented parliament.

The margin of defeat reflected both Bayrou’s political isolation and the broad hostility his austerity program provoked. The plan—roughly €44 billion in savings and revenue measures—paired a spending freeze with higher levies and even the elimination of two public holidays. Bayrou framed it as a necessary tourniquet for what he called ‘life‑threatening’ public finances. But in a chamber splintered among centrists, conservatives, the far left and the far right, the package unified just about everyone against him.

What happens next hinges on a delicate sequence. Bayrou’s cabinet will continue in a limited caretaker role while Macron canvasses names for Matignon. The Élysée has signaled a successor will be named ‘in the coming days’ rather than immediately—an approach that buys the president time but risks deepening uncertainty ahead of a must‑pass 2026 budget. Credit‑rating agencies are watching, investors are edgy, and France’s partners in Brussels expect Paris to outline a credible path to bring its deficit back within EU rules without detonating the social consensus.

The political choreography is even trickier. The Socialist Party has declared itself ‘ready to govern,’ proposing a looser, parliament‑first method built on bill‑by‑bill majorities. Jean‑Luc Mélenchon’s France Insoumise, by contrast, is training its fire on the presidency, urging supporters to push for Macron’s departure through constitutional mechanisms. On the right, Marine Le Pen and her National Rally are calling for the dissolution of the Assembly and new elections—an option that polls suggest could upend Macronism once and for all but that would do little to guarantee stability.

On the streets, a combustible mood is taking hold. Spontaneous gatherings broke out in cities from Lille to Nantes after the vote, with organizers of the ‘Block Everything’ movement planning coordinated actions later this week. Trade unions, student groups and parts of the yellow‑vest network are exploring joint mobilizations—an uneasy alliance that could swell rapidly if the new government moves to revive any version of Bayrou’s cuts. Authorities have readied a heavy police presence to contain flare‑ups around major transport hubs and government buildings.

For Macron, the immediate decision is whether to double down on a centrist replacement or execute a sharp pivot. One path would be to pick a loyalist capable of managing day‑to‑day governance and bargaining across the aisle on the budget—someone technocratic, with credibility in markets and enough political skin to absorb parliamentary bruises. Another would be to invite the Socialists into a confidence‑and‑supply deal or even hand them the keys, daring the left to own the arithmetic of fiscal repair. A third option—dissolving the Assembly—remains the most dramatic, and the riskiest for a president whose coalition has bled support since the 2024 snap election.

The arithmetic remains unforgiving regardless of the casting. No bloc controls an outright majority. The conservatives are divided between budget hawks and those wary of being seen to rescue Macron. The left is internally split on the pace of deficit reduction and the balance between taxes and spending. And the far right is poised to oppose everything while capitalizing on public fatigue. Any prime minister will be forced to assemble shifting coalitions, bill by bill, in a chamber where defection is a political sport.

Market reaction has been cautious rather than panicked, but the warning lights are visible. France’s funding needs are large, its debt stock elevated, and its growth outlook subdued. A protracted vacuum at Matignon—especially if it stalls the budget—would test investors’ patience and revive talk of a downgrade. Macron’s allies argue that a technocratic figure could steady the tiller long enough to pass the fiscal framework while the Élysée leads broader talks over institutional reform.

The deeper question is whether Macron is willing to contemplate what many in Paris now call ‘rupture solutions’—breaking moves that would rewrite the political logic of his second term. Those include a formal pact with a segment of the opposition; a government of national competence centered on fiscal stabilization and Europe policy; or, as the hard left and hard right prefer for opposite reasons, a leap into fresh elections. For now, the president appears intent on delaying any irreversible step, betting that time and the pressures of governance will coax a working majority into being.

Bayrou’s fall underscores the limits of presidential authority in a hung parliament. A veteran centrist and one‑time justice minister, he accepted the poisoned chalice in December with a promise to restore ‘truth in public accounts.’ His draft made the numbers add up—but only just, and only by choosing enemies. Abolishing two public holidays angered unions and cultural groups; spending caps riled mayors and hospital administrators; revenue measures spooked small businesses. In the Assembly, it yoked together adversaries who agree on little beyond the desire to see Bayrou gone.

The Élysée’s instinct for tactical patience is familiar by now. After the 2024 snap election produced a stalemate, Macron resisted pressure to call a new vote or hand the left the premiership. His calculation then—as now—was that the center could keep governing by attrition. But attrition has a way of wearing down the wearer. Each failed gambit narrows the president’s room for maneuver and emboldens rivals who scent the possibility of a post‑Macron realignment.

The next 72 hours will be decisive. If Macron names a successor quickly and signals readiness to compromise on the budget—protecting lower‑income households while phasing in credible savings—he could defuse the protests and reassure markets. If he hesitates, the streets will grow louder, the opposition’s demands harder, and the prospect of rupture closer. France has toppled a prime minister; it has not yet found a way to govern itself again.