Jacques Chirac. Lonely at the top

The French president contemplates his own isolation

HE HAS been in French politics for so long that he seems a permanent fixture. Jacques Chirac was first elected to parliament in 1967, when Tony Blair was just 13. He has been France's president for almost ten years. Now, perhaps for the first time, comes the sense that he is isolated.

The latest knock came at the European summit. Mr Chirac did his best to sell the draft EU constitution as “good for France”, but the final text was not the integrationist document he had wanted. It let the British keep a veto over taxation and social security. With the text greeted on the mainland as a triumph for Mr Blair, Mr Chirac did not conceal his dismay. “We are obliged to recognise that the ambitions that we could have had have been reduced,” he said, “by the non possumus very clearly and strongly expressed, essentially by the United Kingdom.”

Worse, the efforts by Mr Chirac and Germany's Gerhard Schroder to install Guy Verhofstadt, Belgium's prime minister, as European Commission president fell flat. This was a cruel reminder that, in an enlarged Europe of 25, the French and Germans can no longer steer matters alone. Mr Chirac must learn to build alliances with other countries, at a time when many new members remain suspicious of France, thanks to his high-handed behaviour over Iraq. Much of their hostility to France, says one Polish official, was caused by Mr Chirac's bullying.

Isolation in Europe is compounded at home. The French are fed up with Mr Chirac and his government. At two recent polls - regional elections in March and European ones in June - voters rejected his ruling Union for a Popular Movement, and swung left. Some 70% have no confidence in Jean-Pierre Raffarin, his prime minister. French tradition makes prime ministers the scapegoats in hard times, with the office of president rising above tawdry matters. Yet popular disaffection is increasingly directed at the president himself. Mr Chirac's personal approval rating has sunk from 50% last August to just 35% today, according to TNS Sofres, a pollster.

Even within his party, Mr Chirac's grip looks shaky. Founded to keep him in power, the UMP is in disarray. Last week, at the first round of a by-election in Paris, the official UMP candidate was trounced by a centre-right alternative, Bernard Debre, who talks of mounting a similar campaign for the Paris town hall. Several of Mr Chirac's political friends in France's overseas territories have also been evicted. Next month he loses his protege, Alain Juppe, the UMP boss, who was convicted of political corruption in January.

Six months ago, la chiraquie - the president's circle - was bent on finding a loyal successor to Mr Juppe, and, above all, on keeping out Nicolas Sarkozy, the ambitious finance minister. Today, fretful for their own survival, former loyalists on the UMP backbenches have begun to desert the president. Roselyne Bachelot, Mr Chirac's spokesman for the 2002 presidential elections, says the party needs Mr Sarkozy. Alain Madelin, from the pro-market end, has swung behind him. This week Mr Chirac said that he was ready to acquiesce in Mr Sarkozy's taking over the UMP.

Where does this leave Mr Chirac? He faces no more elections until 2007. But manoeuvring for his succession is under way. To restore his authority, he may replace Mr Raffarin, perhaps in the autumn, after a health-reform bill is passed. Given his distrust of Mr Sarkozy, Mr Chirac is unlikely to offer him the job. Instead, he may turn to Dominique de Villepin, former foreign minister. Since leaving the Quai d'Orsay to become interior minister, he has roughened his edges in the company of policemen and firemen. Aristocratic and urbane, Mr de Villepin lacks both a common touch and a popular mandate: he holds no elected office. Faced with the unpalatable rise of Mr Sarkozy, however, Mr Chirac may feel he has no alternative.

The French President contemplates his own isolation, both within France and on the European stage.

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