“Les jours d’après (Questions stratégiques 1),” by Frédéric Lordon, first appeared on 6 May 2026 as an installment of La pompe à phynance, Lordon’s column at Le Monde diplomatique.

“Saying ‘self-organization’ or ‘workers’ sovereignty’ isn’t enough. How will financing be provided? How will collective functions be organized? How will the division of labor be managed? How will individuals fit into it once they are freed from the tyranny of wages and capitalist employment? What role will remain for the market? For money? What will be the overall consequences for the standard of living? And to what extent will people be aware of these necessities? So many questions, so few answers for now.”

— Frédéric Lordon

Regarding the debate to which the Hors-Série website invited me to participate together with Jean-Luc Mélenchon, one could say both that it was overly extensive (even a bit all over the place) and that we would have liked more of it. But we couldn’t cover everything. So there is reason to continue, if we so choose. In particular, we should explore what an “insubordinate” government power might look like. Not, of course, to celebrate prematurely, but to delve deeper into an essential thought experiment. Just in case.

Let’s say that he—Mélenchon—has been elected. And that he has “his” government in place. And so it all begins. “It all” what, exactly?

The reaction, first of all. The ensemble of these moves is well known; it has already been mapped out: the media in a frenzy, bond markets in turmoil, soaring interest rates, the European Central Bank and the European Commission ready to pounce, sabotage by business bosses. Between systemic reactions and deliberate attempts to undermine, everything conspires to thwart the effort.

Of course, within the scope of freedom in the realm of economic policy, there is room to maneuver: 1) by convincing a portion of the corporate class to at least wait and see—and realize that they stand to gain, for example, through a compromise on ecological planning; 2) by convincing the European Commission that taxing the wealthy and capital at least has the merit of restoring public finances—and then make it accept that there will be a few “instances of non-compliance” here and there (State aid, the energy market, etc.); 3) in this regard, by speaking once again with the corporate class and explaining to them that fiscal redistribution stimulates the economy through consumption and that it plays, in fact, to their advantage: contrary to what they believe (or pretend to believe), it is not “businesses that create jobs”; rather, it is the economic climate that determines the overall volume of economic activity and the amount of work available—and thus the corresponding job creation—which in turn depends on economic policy stimulus measures. In short, by explaining to “everyone” that “everything will be fine” and that we all should relax a little.

All of this, however, is contingent on a minimum degree of rationality on the part of the capitalist class and its ability to set aside its visceral, reflexive animosity in order to examine its objective interests with a degree of detachment. Unfortunately, we’ve known since Marx that when the bourgeoisie is left to its own devices, it isn’t even capable of remaining true to “its crude and sordid interests.” Such is the fragility of a government strategy built on such a contingent assumption of rationality.

It is certain that La France Insoumise is aware of the problem. The references to the “citizen revolution” attest to this. We will not revisit here the truly revolutionary nature—that is, whether the “citizen revolution” is anti-capitalist (it is not) beyond its participatory-constituent nature—which, in and of itself, will struggle to withstand the bourgeoisie’s purely economic attack (let’s be clear: the bond markets won’t be impressed)—and instead we’ll choose to understand “citizen revolution” as a metonymy for “popular support.” The fact is that such support will be necessary. Whether it materializes is the whole point.

In this regard, however, we can formulate two hypothetical strategic scenarios—which are radically contradictory.

Scenario 1: From Electoral Passivity to Inertia

During the debate organized by Hors-Série, Jean-Luc Mélenchon outlined the first scenario as the one that needed to be averted. He recalled that when the Socialists came to power in 1981, they were convinced that, as in 1936, a popular movement would immediately take to the streets in the wake of their electoral victory. The place turned out to be a desert. A colossal miscalculation that had failed to properly gauge the primary effect of “electoral democracy” in the style of the Fifth Republic: the formation of a habitus of passivity, with political activity reduced to casting a ballot in the ballot box, followed by an immediate return to apathy. Through the separation of powers, through top-down centralization, and through the systematic exclusion of citizens from any form of participation in political decision-making, We finally got the hang of it: “We’ve given you the keys to the truck; now you drive the truck.” Put another way: don’t count on us to push the wheel. In fact, in 1981, no one showed up at the back of the truck.

The extrapolation from 1936 to 1981 was flawed. Forty-six years later, there is little chance that it won’t be even more so. Precisely when it will be most necessary. For we cannot be certain that clever maneuvers and skillful feints will convince the bourgeoisie (the reaction) to think twice. Whether intentionally —Mouvement des entreprises de France (MEDEF), the European Union—or not—bond markets—, the aim will be to thwart the insubordinate economic policy and to pour fuel on the fire (media) by feigning concern. If things unfold this way and the failure begins to take its toll (it will take its toll in the form of unemployment), there will be no hope left for popular support of any kind: brought about by the reactionary forces, the situation will fall back on the government—that is the whole point of the maneuver.

Popular support must therefore be built beforehand. This is clearly the mobilization task assigned to the “citizen revolution,” which is precisely supposed to kick into gear in the same breath. The question remains as to whether—and, if so, whom—this mobilization will actually be able to mobilize. Let’s voice some doubts: the constituent workshops undoubtedly have their enthusiasts—enlightened citizens, participatory at heart, nostalgic for Nuit debout—but do these enthusiasts constitute a fighting force?

One might argue that, in addition to being unfair, this prediction is mistaken, and that Chile has proven it wrong. Except that the outcome of the Chilean process was not exactly as expected, and the biases of the “constitutional” participants—who were more politicized than the average citizen—did not hold up in the general election—especially under the relentless barrage of the bourgeois media, which was not about to miss such a golden opportunity to redeem itself. Let’s assume, nonetheless, to take this thought experiment to its logical conclusion: there is broad participation, there is a referendum, and here is the Sixth French Republic. One question remains: does a constitution provide adequate tools to resist the economic sabotage of the bourgeois reaction—unleashed finance, interest rates, collapsed investment, and unemployment?

Scenario 2. Movement, Overflow, Conflict

Back to square one: the reaction reacts, throwing all its forces into the battle; its arsenal is economic and formidable; for all its good intentions, the new Constitution can do little to counter it. Constitutional participation was a nice form of support, but it wasn’t the right kind of support. The “right kind of support” strikes directly at the heart of the matter: the core of the distribution of added value, the conditions of production, and employment statuses. This is where the second strategic scenario—contradictory to the previous one—normally comes into play. Scenario 1 was the inertial triumph of passivity, possibly tempered by constituent activity, but somewhat off the mark. Scenario 2 is that of the Popular Front redux: it takes to the streets—and not to draft a Constitution. Precisely to tackle the tough issues head-on.

If all the forces of democratic dispossession at work, if all the long-standing bad habits, point toward Scenario 1, how could Scenario 2 come to pass? In truth, no one knows much about it. In the absence of a “formula,” we look for favorable factors. We see two.

1) The crisis—the full extent of which no one seems to have fully grasped yet—will be in full swing by the end of this year or early next year. Is this the crisis that’s one too many? We’d certainly like it to be this time—after the one from 2008–2010. A terribly ambivalent event, in any case, straddling social devastation and unprecedented political possibilities. Oil companies profiting from the crisis, banks needing to be bailed out yet again, and the consequences falling solely on the people: a recipe for anger. We’ll have to set it ablaze, identify the culprit behind the disaster: financialized capitalism—make it the enemy, establish the legitimacy—almost in the sense of self-defense—of bringing it down, that is, of radically transforming its structures: those of the deregulation of all markets, of competition, of finance—and of the euro, which encapsulates them all.

2) The crisis will exist as a potential, but it will need accomplices to “bring it about.” Let’s call a spade a spade: agitators. Of course, it will be in La France Insoumise’s interest during the election period to start stirring things up itself. The question is: how far? After all, in the end, we’ll have a “responsible government” to run, not a “Zone to Defend.” Governments don’t like disorder. When you’re part of one or aspire to be, that’s a valid logic. But it’s not the only logic out there. Consequently, there will be proponents of other logics, agitators more inclined toward agitation—meaning: toward not censoring their goals. There will be such people because they, too, will have gauged the breadth of the historical window of opportunity.

And so we’ve gently arrived at Scenario 2. At first, in fact, things go rather well: the various rationales are aligned, working in concert. There is the rationale of the incoming government, which calls for support—even pushing for it a bit. There is the unconstrained rationale of the agitators on the outside: combative unionists free from their leadership, revolutionary communist militants, and so on. This is called an objective alliance. For, just as in 1936, a left-wing government—for once—creates the conditions that make the social movement possible. It has control over the police. So there will be no crowd and riot control officers from the CRS coming to break up the picket lines, no violent evictions in the event of occupations—let’s not doubt that the idea of occupying will occur to some (agitators). Incidentally, this is the precise moment when we realize that focusing solely on the “people of the networks” while completely forgetting the working class is a major blunder: for in the confrontation with the bourgeoisie, the only thing that matters is the ability to bring production to a halt. The only thing that matters is the strike. A strike, and capital bends—inevitably, since it isn’t the one doing the producing. An occupation, and capital is out.

The government needed a show of support that would impress capital: it would get it. The support movement needed the State to show no hostility: it would get that, too. Yet, inevitably, these two forces—initially aligned—will come into conflict. One naturally thinks of 1936, as well as the first New Deal. Even if history never repeats itself exactly, these are good points of reference, because their formal sequences are transferable (and have already been transferred) across time, and above all because they point to “historical intensities” that will once again be on the agenda.

These formal sequences are those of the relationships between the masses in motion and institutions: governments, unions—the latter supposedly having a foot in both camps, but in reality far more on one side than the other: unions are institutions whose institutional interests are entirely embedded in the institutional system. A system they therefore have no desire to disrupt. Unions favor only those movements that remain under their control and have a deep-seated aversion to unrest; this was already the case—and all the more so—when, on paper, they were unions dedicated to class struggle and the overthrow of capitalism. When we look back at the historical period of “1936,” even Léon Jouhaux’s General Confederation of Labour (CGT) had no intention of overthrowing anything; it was far too content to “negotiate historic compromises” at the table of power—of the powers that be: to be part of them. One immediately thinks back to May ’68 and the opening sequence of the film Reprise, whose title says it all; nearly sixty years later, we take a look instead at Sophie Binet and her leadership. And indeed that too says it all.

In 1936, the CGT was the French Communist Party (PCF), and the PCF was Maurice Thorez, who recommended knowing when to end a strike “as soon as satisfaction has been obtained.” But who set the threshold for “satisfaction”? Why here and not further? In any case, the strike ends. There was an objective alliance; it was a happy, fruitful one that didn’t have time to go (too) wrong—but in return, it came to a halt, even though it had gotten off to such a good start. What would happen to a possible equivalent Popular Front in 2027 under a government led by La France Insoumise? It would likely hit a snag at one point or another. Logics that are momentarily aligned, but then diverge when one of them feels it has gotten its fair share and the other wants to push further—as far as possible. Does it even know itself how far?

To go beyond—but to do what?

That logic would no doubt answer “communism.” But what does it actually mean by that? What concept does it put into play that isn’t too vague? Because it’s all well and good to say “abolition of profit-driven property”—that’s even where we need to start. It’s an entirely different matter to sketch out, at the very least, how—once profit-driven property is abolished—material production and reproduction would be organized, within which institutional frameworks outlined in somewhat concrete terms—conjured up. Saying “self-organization” or “workers’ sovereignty” isn’t enough. How will financing be provided? How will collective functions be organized? How will the division of labor be managed? How will individuals fit into it once they are freed from the tyranny of wages and capitalist employment? What role will remain for the market? For money? What will be the overall consequences for the standard of living? And to what extent will people be aware of these necessities? So many questions, so few answers for now.

It is into this relative vacuum that the logic of government returns with a vengeance, with all its bad “good” reasons: if the surging movement isn’t quite sure where it’s headed—and it’s true that it isn’t quite sure—the government, for its part, knows what it has at its disposal: an established framework that guarantees a minimum level of continuity in material life. And then (above all) the desire not to let the power it has barely won slip away! Here, the government’s logic will argue that society isn’t ready for the great communist leap, for the sacrifices it entails—and it won’t be wrong. We can tell ourselves fairy tales, but it’s not true that there is a desire for communism in society—that is, one strong enough to bear the consequences. Society takes the risk of the great leap when anything is better than the status quo. In 1917, there was a war claiming millions of lives, there was famine, there was the utmost degree of misery—if that’s the case, then forward into communism (“communism”) without regret. Contemporary capitalism has reached a level of development where its agents still feel they have too much to lose by abandoning it—such is the power of capitalist capture. None of this precludes working to foster a desire for communism, to demonstrate its urgent necessity—and indeed, its urgent necessities: climate action, anti-technofascism, anti-imperialism. Anything but the status quo would do. But 2027 is tomorrow, and we’ll have to make do with the state of affairs of tomorrow.

And so the governmental logic will take matters back into its own hands. Governments are forces of order. Nor should we ignore the fact that they capitalize on the majority’s desire for order—the flip side of “still too much to lose.” In any case, institutional forces—those that have grown within institutional frameworks—do not want institutional upheavals, at least not beyond a certain point. Only in Mexico is the “Institutional Revolutionary Party” not an oxymoron.

In the meantime, the government’s popular ally—a contradictory, temporary ally—will have enabled it to establish the true balance of power with the bourgeoisie, which would otherwise have swept away the constituent workshops like chaff. And it will have pushed the government further than it would have gone on its own. Unremarkable as it may sound, “further” can mean quite a long way. How far, ultimately? That will be determined by the balance of power between the masses and “their” government. In 1936, the government, the unions, and the PCF said “no further” because no one was ready to take on a revolutionary process and its consequences—possibly a civil war. To ask the question again for 2027 is, all the more so, to answer it: the levels of tension and political violence are not comparable—not yet. The risks (and chances) of a revolutionary runaway are quite moderate. A government willing to make compromises for “overall social stability” will in any case ensure that we do not approach the thresholds that capital would consider an existential threat—though it is unclear exactly where those thresholds lie, or whether capital now regards even the slightest setback as “existential.”

Let’s imagine though, for example, that below these critical thresholds (?), frightened capital flees certain places, as it usually does: by closing up shop. What excellent news: the workers stay, the know-how stays, and this time the equipment stays—because the police, duly tasked with this mission, will be there to prevent the nighttime relocations that exploitative employers are known to carry out. Machines are capital only under the yoke of capital. Once capital has left, what remains—through legally established wage preemption—is collective property in use, similarly established. Its scope expands as capital withdraws. Something like a gradual subduction of the bourgeois republic by the social republic. That’s not so bad already. In any case, this is where constituent activity finds its relevance: afterward, not before. Constitutions come afterward, to ratify victories—for example, changes in the legal forms of property—not beforehand, when there is still nothing tangible, and above all, no firmly established balance of power. Constitutions in a state of weightlessness have no power to change anything. It is the struggles and their conquests that give them weight.

Scenario 1 (blue pill)? Scenario 2 (red pill)?

Will we really have a choice? Or will events choose for us? The ones bearing down on us are significant—a bit more than the term “favorable factors” would suggest. And no one seems to fully realize this. At best, we’re talking about oil, gas rates, and prices at the pump. If only. In fact, two crises are bearing down on us, each of gigantic order, plus a third crisis stemming from the explosive interplay between the first two. A (multi-)financial crisis, which—and this is new—isn’t flaring up in just one sector of finance, but is flashing across every corner of the market landscape. An economic crisis resulting from the disruption of critical supply chains, directly affecting oil and, in its wake, the entire petrochemical industry, with risks of shortages of inputs—particularly from Asia—that are bound to spread along the lines of the international division of labor.

The resulting combined explosion will not remain confined to the economic system. If it proves as violent as anticipated, it will erupt into social upheavals and political events of historic proportions. The scene that will unfold in a few months’ time will be anything but business as usual. Left-wing political forces, regardless of the logic that guides them—and thus regardless of the agendas that this logic dictates—should fully grasp (better than they currently do) the exceptional nature of the times ahead and prepare for them. We must be ready when history knocks on the door. Red pill.

Feature image: A student throws a stone at the police in Paris in May 1968. (AP Photo/Guy Kopelowicz)

Translated from the French original by Rolando Prats.

Frédéric Lordon