For the past month, up until Sunday’s parliamentary election, most French voters had been dreading the predicted victory of the far-right National Rally party. But then—in stark contrast to Americans who claim to be alarmed by the return of Donald Trump—they actually did something to prevent it.
Emmanuel Macron had called for the snap elections on June 9. It was an impulsive, even hubristic decision by France’s centrist president—an attempt to undermine Marine Le Pen’s right-wing party, which had just dominated in the European Parliament. Instead, the National Rally surged again. Poll after poll revealed what seemingly everybody but Macron already knew: There was a very good chance that the explicitly xenophobic, formerly fascist party might seize a domestic governing majority and possibly even propel its 28-year-old standard-bearer, Jordan Bardella, to the prime minister’s office.
It was all anyone could discuss in France. With parents at my daughter’s school, while watching Euro Cup matches with friends, at the dry cleaner’s, with relatives, when crossing a neighbor’s path, every conversation inevitably shifted to the political emergency the country had suddenly been thrust into. A solid third of the population was supporting the far right, while all over the streets of Paris were spray-painted slogans about voting for the left. No one believed that the center would hold.
[Read: How Macron lost France to the extremes]
Indeed, when the French went to the polls for the first round of voting, on June 30, Macron’s gamble proved an egregious self-inflicted injury. Turnout was unusually high. The far-right bloc notched 33 percent of the vote, the left-wing New Popular Front coalition secured 28 percent, and Macron’s centrist alliance placed last, with only 21 percent. A total of 289 seats is needed to win an outright majority. Going into the second round of voting, on July 7, the National Rally was expected to win 230 to 280 seats—a transformational rise from its previous count of 88.
The likelihood of a far-right nationalist government in France—the first since the Second World War—reinstalled the fear of God in the majority of a population that had grown listless and disorganized under Macron. With just a week to take action, and no other choice, the center and the left worked together to withdraw candidates from races where they were competing for votes. Their joint effort was effective: Added together, Macron’s party and the New Popular Front took 328 seats. It was an unequivocal loss for the center that nonetheless blocked the right from victory.
The lesson was clear: Centrists, liberals, and leftists took the credible threat of right-wing authoritarian rule seriously enough to act quickly and strategically. Behaving as though their country’s future was at stake, they reacted to new information in order to maximize success. No one spoke about personal loyalty to individual candidates. No one spoke about it being a given politician’s turn to be in office. No one said that it was too late to change the plan. The extreme deadline instead became a motivational boon, not unlike the way a capable basketball team may go on a scoring rampage as the clock runs out.
This is exactly how Democrats should have behaved after the debate between Trump and Joe Biden. In the weeks leading up to their convention next month, this is precisely what they should be doing now. There is still a limited window of time to incorporate crucial new information and make the necessary, painful, and self-sacrificing adjustments required if Americans are to avert an electoral disaster.
[Read: Trump is not America’s Le Pen]
Biden’s supporters can no longer deny that the president is far too enfeebled a candidate with whom to entrust the fate of the nation. Those who do not want to see Trump reelected must demand that the Democratic Party replace him on the ticket with someone who can inspire voter turnout by effectively campaigning against Trump. As Representative Jim Clyburn of South Carolina suggested, this might mean holding a mini-primary to identify who among the vice president and the deeply talented roster of Democratic governors proves the most compelling.
One of the major differences between France and America, it seems, is that the French have not been beaten into a state of learned helplessness by the possibility of right-wing extremism. America’s left and center have been performing outrage for years now, through scandal after scandal, as Trump refused to concede defeat in 2020, peddled outrageous conspiracies that resulted in a deadly riot at the Capitol, and became the first convicted felon ever to seek office. And yet, as he plots his comeback, he has met only a toothless and disorganized opposition, complacently following a calcified leader. The majority of French voters saw the National Rally as an existential threat to their values, and were alarmed and motivated enough to react. If Trump is in fact on the cusp of destroying American democracy, as so many have continually warned us, then Americans should respond to this crisis with a similar sense of pragmatism and urgency.
Last week, Biden told George Stephanopoulos that even if he loses the election, “I’ll feel as long as I gave it my all and I did the goodest job as I know I can do, that’s what this is about.” But this is not what it’s all about, and there is no more time to waste debating it. The party and the country (and, indeed, the liberal world) cannot be held hostage to one diminished man’s pride and ambition.
