Sébastien Lecornu’s High-Wire Act in a Fractured Assembly

In France, energy policy has always carried the hum of politics beneath the voltage. This week that hum rose to a sharp crackle as the far-right National Rally filed a motion of no confidence against Prime Minister Sébastien Lecornu over his government’s newly adopted long-term energy law.

The motion was expected to fail. Yet the episode exposed not only ideological divides over nuclear power and renewables, but a growing unease about Mr. Lecornu himself — his governing style, his authority and the manner in which the law was advanced.

The legislation recalibrates France’s renewable energy targets and eases earlier plans to close 14 nuclear reactors, offering relief to the state utility EDF and reaffirming nuclear power’s central role in the national grid. Supporters describe it as sober realism in an era of energy volatility. Critics see something more troubling: a technocratic pivot executed with limited parliamentary deliberation.

The National Rally accused the government of sidelining oversight and warned of higher costs for households and businesses. Though the party’s objections were steeped in its own populist rhetoric, the charge of executive heavy-handedness resonated beyond the far right.

France’s government governs without a majority in the National Assembly and has already survived two no-confidence votes this month. In such a landscape, authority depends as much on persuasion as arithmetic. Mr. Lecornu’s detractors argue that persuasion has not been his strongest suit.

Within centrist and left-leaning circles, some lawmakers privately complain that the prime minister’s approach feels managerial rather than consultative — a style more comfortable with policy briefs than coalition building. They note that energy reform, touching everything from industrial competitiveness to household bills, demands not just expertise but political choreography.

Environmental advocates have sharpened their own critique. They contend that easing reactor closures risks dulling the urgency of renewable expansion and sends mixed signals to investors. For them, the government’s recalibration appears less like realism than retreat — a step back from France’s professed climate ambitions.

Labour groups and some regional officials have also expressed anxiety about transparency. While nuclear plants provide stable baseload power, they require costly maintenance and long-term waste management solutions. Opponents argue that the financial implications remain insufficiently detailed for a country still grappling with budgetary constraints.

Mr. Lecornu’s supporters counter that electricity grids operate on physics, not slogans. They emphasise that France is simultaneously electrifying transport, heating and industry — a transformation that increases demand even as fossil fuels are phased out. In that context, preserving nuclear capacity appears prudent.

Still, the political cost of prudence can be high. In France, energy debates are rarely confined to kilowatts and carbon metrics. They evoke national identity, economic sovereignty and public trust in institutions. When a prime minister appears to accelerate policy in a divided parliament, suspicion flourishes.

Even the Socialist Party, which ultimately declined to support the no-confidence motion in the name of “stability, not chaos,” signalled discomfort. Its leaders framed their abstention as a defence of institutional continuity rather than an endorsement of the government’s methods.

That nuance matters. Mr. Lecornu survived, but survival is not the same as strength. Each vote of confidence chips at the perception of assured leadership. In minority governments, perception can be as consequential as policy.

There is also a broader mood in the country. After years of economic strain, protests over pension reform and lingering anxieties about purchasing power, French voters are sensitive to any policy that hints at rising costs. The National Rally’s warning about household bills may lack detailed fiscal modeling, but it taps into a real sentiment: fear that technocratic adjustments will translate into personal sacrifice.

The prime minister’s challenge, then, is not merely to defend the engineering logic of his plan but to restore political confidence. Energy security is a national priority; so too is democratic legitimacy. Bridging the two requires more than legislative maneuvering.

France’s long embrace of nuclear power once symbolised state competence and modern ambition. Reviving that legacy in a fragmented political era demands a different skill set — one attuned to coalition politics and public reassurance.

In many ways, Mr. Lecornu embodies the paradox of contemporary European governance: a leader advancing policies widely regarded by experts as necessary, yet navigating an electorate wary of elite decision-making. His critics question whether he has sufficiently acknowledged that tension.

The no-confidence motion failed, as expected. But it illuminated the fault lines beneath the surface. France may have chosen continuity in its energy mix. Whether it has chosen continuity in confidence is less certain.

The lights remain on. The debate over how — and by whom — they are kept that way is only beginning.