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The next French President? My money's on Marine Le Pen

It already looked possible. Then the leader of the far-right Front National softened her stance on Frexit. 

Were you reassured by the latest poll on the French Presidential election that showed independent young radical Emmanuel Macron is gaining momentum? Do you believe he will offer a challenge to the conservative frontrunner François Fillon and the far-right firebrand Marine Le Pen?

Well, tough luck. Here is why the leader of France’s Front National, Le Pen, is probably going to win the election this spring.

Firstly, as we saw countless times in 2016, the polls can get it outrageous wrong. Two weeks before the US election, the odds of a Donald Trump victory were between 3 and 10 percent, and look how that turned out. We know anti-establishment populism is on the rise in Europe and that it is hard to measure until it is too late. Le Pen represents a chance to stick it to the EU elites and give a voice to those feeling disregarded and disgruntled by the march of globalisation and multiculturalism. 

But the French election is about more than faulty polling techniques. Given the other contenders, Le Pen has the chance to redefine herself and her party, not as anti-EU fascists, but as the only option that is well and truly French.

Consider her main rival, François Fillon. A self-defined French Thatcherite, Fillon wants a “radical shock” for France. Corporate tax breaks, €100bn of government spending cuts, 500,000 public service jobs slashed and an end to France’s hallowed 35-hour working week - does this sound like the France we know? Whether Fillon’s reforms are necessary is an open question, but deep down in the French psyche, they amount to nothing short of sacrilege. 

Usually a candidate from the left would provide an antidote, but this year the Socialists will be nothing more than a footnote. It is almost certain that the final round presidential run-off will feature Fillon against Le Pen, with no left-wingers in sight. So what choice is there for the traditional French left and the powerful trade unions? Can Le Pen promise them something that Fillon can’t?

Yes: the French status quo. Fillon diagnoses an unemployment rate of 10 percent, youth unemployment at 24.7 percent, a stagnating economy and out-of-control debt, and prescribes a free-market revolution. Le Pen sees the same problems, but argues they can be cured by nationalism, protectionism, and a curb on immigration.

If you were a traditionally left-wing French voter, would you really choose the bitter medicine of Fillon’s Thatcherite reforms over Le Pen’s siren song that things can stay exactly as they are, if only the immigrants are expelled? 

Le Pen knows Fillon’s candidacy has given her real shot, and she is doing all she can to extricate herself from the toxic legacy of her father and disassociate herself from accusations of xenophobia and fascism. She is even softening her uncompromising EU-hatred. Most French voters, especially those who have investments and pensions, don’t want France to face the instability of leaving the Euro. So in her first interview of the new year, Le Pen backed away from outright withdrawal, and promised compromise. She also reframed a question about whether she supported France leaving the EU into a call for a renegotiation and referendum - a sharp about-turn for the leader of a party that has opposed the EU since its creation. Her target is no longer just the EU, but the multicultural elites whose tolerance, liberalism and relaxed immigration policies have put the fundamentals of French society at risk.

This is the rhetoric of Trump, with one key difference: Le Pen actually believes what she says. Trump promised a wall to keep out immigrants and a ban Muslims from entering the country because he thought it sounded good at rallies. Le Pen vows to deport immigrants and de-Islamify France because that is the ideology she has been raised to believe since childhood (albeit it with Muslims switched in to replace Jews). Trump is already back-peddling. If elected, Le Pen will not.

So while Fillon struggles to inspire support for his harsh reforms, Le Pen will combine the law-and-order rhetoric of the right with the union-backed protectionism of the left. She will have ample ammunition to rage against the political establishment, branding Fillon as an out-of-touch elite and herself as the saviour of jobs, welfare and ultimately Frenchness. The only thing that could stand in her way is the candidacy of Emmanuel Macron. This young and vibrant newcomer, who is currently enjoying the highest approval ratings of any candidate, may just be enough to remind voters that Le Pen is a political veteran who has spent 20 years peddling the same divisive policies as her father. That’s a lot of pressure on the shoulders of the former economy minister. My money is still on President Le Pen.

Rachel Cunliffe is the deputy editor of Reaction. Follow her @RMCunliffe.

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The UK press’s timid reaction to Brexit is in marked contrast to the satire unleashed on Trump

For the BBC, it seems, to question leaving the EU is to be unpatriotic.

Faced with arguably their biggest political-cum-constitutional ­crisis in half a century, the press on either side of the pond has reacted very differently. Confronting a president who, unlike many predecessors, does not merely covertly dislike the press but rages against its supposed mendacity as a purveyor of “fake news”, the fourth estate in the US has had a pretty successful first 150-odd days of the Trump era. The Washington Post has recovered its Watergate mojo – the bloodhound tenacity that brought down Richard Nixon. The Post’s investigations into links between the Kremlin and Donald Trump’s associates and appointees have yielded the scalp of the former security adviser Michael Flynn and led to Attorney General Jeff Sessions recusing himself from all inquiries into Trump-Russia contacts. Few imagine the story will end there.

Meanwhile, the New York Times has cast off its image as “the grey lady” and come out in sharper colours. Commenting on the James Comey memo in an editorial, the Times raised the possibility that Trump was trying to “obstruct justice”, and called on Washington lawmakers to “uphold the constitution”. Trump’s denunciations of the Times as “failing” have acted as commercial “rocket fuel” for the paper, according to its CEO, Mark Thompson: it gained an “astonishing” 308,000 net digital news subscriptions in the first quarter of 2017.

US-based broadcast organisations such as CNN and ABC, once considered slick or bland, have reacted to Trump’s bullying in forthright style. Political satire is thriving, led by Saturday Night Live, with its devastating impersonations of the president by Alec Baldwin and of his press secretary Sean Spicer by the brilliant Melissa McCarthy.

British press reaction to Brexit – an epic constitutional, political and economic mess-up that probably includes a mind-bogglingly destructive self-ejection from a single market and customs union that took decades to construct, a move pushed through by a far-right faction of the Tory party – has been much more muted. The situation is complicated by the cheerleading for Brexit by most of the British tabloids and the Daily Telegraph. There are stirrings of resistance, but even after an election in which Theresa May spectacularly failed to secure a mandate for her hard Brexit, there is a sense, though the criticism of her has been intense, of the media pussy-footing around a government in disarray – not properly interrogating those who still seem to promise that, in relation to Europe, we can have our cake and eat it.

This is especially the case with the BBC, a state broadcaster that proudly proclaims its independence from the government of the day, protected by the famous “arm’s-length” principle. In the case of Brexit, the BBC invoked its concept of “balance” to give equal airtime and weight to Leavers and Remainers. Fair enough, you might say, but according to the economist Simon Wren-Lewis, it ignored a “near-unanimous view among economists that Brexit would hurt the UK economy in the longer term”.

A similar view of “balance” in the past led the BBC to equate views of ­non-scientific climate contrarians, often linked to the fossil-fuel lobby, with those of leading climate scientists. Many BBC Remainer insiders still feel incensed by what they regard as BBC betrayal over Brexit. Although the referendum of 23 June 2016 said nothing about leaving the single market or the customs union, the Today presenter Justin Webb, in a recent interview with Stuart Rose, put it like this: “Staying in the single market, staying in the customs union – [Leave voters would say] you might as well not be leaving. That fundamental position is a matter of democracy.” For the BBC, it seems, to question Brexit is somehow to be unpatriotic.

You might think that an independent, pro-democratic press would question the attempted use of the arcane and archaic “royal prerogative” to enable the ­bypassing of parliament when it came to triggering Article 50, signalling the UK’s departure from the EU. But when the campaigner Gina Miller’s challenge to the government was upheld by the high court, the three ruling judges were attacked on the front page of the Daily Mail as “enemies of the people”. Thomas Jefferson wrote that he would rather have “newspapers without a government” than “a government without newspapers”. It’s a fair guess he wasn’t thinking of newspapers that would brand the judiciary as “enemies of the people”.

It does seem significant that the United States has a written constitution, encapsulating the separation and balance of powers, and explicitly designed by the Founding Fathers to protect the young republic against tyranny. When James Madison drafted the First Amendment he was clear that freedom of the press should be guaranteed to a much higher degree in the republic than it had been in the colonising power, where for centuries, after all, British monarchs and prime ministers have had no qualms about censoring an unruly media.

By contrast, the United Kingdom remains a hybrid of monarchy and democracy, with no explicit protection of press freedom other than the one provided by the common law. The national impulse to bend the knee before the sovereign, to obey and not question authority, remains strangely powerful in Britain, the land of Henry VIII as well as of George Orwell. That the United Kingdom has slipped 11 places in the World Press Freedom Index in the past four years, down to 40th, has rightly occasioned outrage. Yet, even more awkwardly, the United States is three places lower still, at 43rd. Freedom of the press may not be doing quite as well as we imagine in either country.

Harry Eyres is the author of Horace and Me: Life Lessons from an Ancient Poet (2013)

This article first appeared in the 20 July 2017 issue of the New Statesman, The new world disorder