The spectacle of Marine Le Pen’s downfall has all the trappings of a political drama: the courtroom, the damning verdict, the righteous declarations of persecution. And, of course, the inevitable succession crisis.
France’s far-right leader, the 56-year-old woman who dragged her party out of the shadows of postwar extremism and into the limelight of mainstream politics, now finds herself barred from running for office for the next five years, effective immediately.
With Marine Le Pen banned from the 2027 presidential race she seemed poised to win, France is looking at its first Le Pen-less election in 37 years. This historic ruling, following a conviction for embezzling European Union funds, has not only rocked the foundations of Le Pen’s career, but raised existential concerns about the future of the party she inherited from her father.
Jean-Marie Le Pen’s party was a family affair from the very start. Can it survive without a Le Pen at the helm? Could it be better off for it?
Le Pen’s party was cobbled together from its inception. In 1972, two years before Marine’s birth, her father assembled an unlikely alliance of political outcasts and former Nazi collaborators to lay the foundations of what would become the National Front (FN, now National Rally, or RN).
Though the party was made up of different political strains, the Le Pen family was never far from its centre. Le Pen’s three daughters have all been active within the party and even married members of the movement. The eldest, Marie-Caroline, was, according to the family biographers, brought up to become her dad’s successor. Marine was 15 when she first accompanied her father on the campaign trail, and 25 when she first ran for office as an FN candidate. Marion Maréchal, Le Pen’s granddaughter, appeared on an FN poster before she knew how to read or write.
Political scientists categorise the RN as a “personal” party, centred on a charismatic political figure, but it’s also a familial one. In the summer of 1998, Jean-Marie feared that he might be handed an ineligibility verdict, and floated the idea of having his wife, Jany, run in his stead. Though she refused, this led to a split in the party, with several high-ranking members leaving to form their own—including Marie-Caroline. Though she's returned to the RN since, she's now not high-ranking enough to be considered for her sister's succession.
When the time came for Jean-Marie to unveil his successor in 2010, many feared that the party might not survive without a Le Pen to embody it. They need not have worried: Marine was swiftly elected to replace him. In the end, the new face of the far-right bore a familiar name.
Over her tenure as party president, Marine has catapulted the RN into mainstream politics. The far-right party is no longer a fringe movement but, rather, a driving force in French politics, shifting the entire spectrum further to the right with every electoral victory. At the heart of this rebranding was Marine’s decision to distance herself from her father, who had become too politically damaging in her attempts to seduce moderate voters. But the party—so far—has been unable, or unwilling, to distance itself from her. In RN circles, core loyalists still describe themselves as “Marinists.”
In 2021, when she resigned from the party presidency to devote herself fully to her presidential run in the 2022 elections (she had run twice before, by still as head of the party), the RN found itself without a Le Pen at its helm for the very first time. In truth, Marine was never very far away—she merely handed the reins to her second-in-command, Jordan Bardella, who, at the time, also happened to be dating her niece, Nolwenn Olivier. The then-26-year-old officially became party president a year later, and Marine often refers to him as her successor—and, in private, as her “adopted son.”
For over 50 years, the destinies of the Le Pens’ party and family have been virtually inseparable—until Monday’s verdict.
Minutes after the conviction was announced, Marion Maréchal, another of Marine’s nieces and a high-ranking member of the party, posted on X: “For decades, the national camp and our family have suffered every blow, every attack, every injustice.”
To some, this reference to family might suggest that Maréchal is setting herself up as an alternative successor to her aunt for the RN’s 2027 presidential run. But others believe the absence of a Le Pen in 2027 could be the best thing that has happened to the party in years.
The Le Pen name has always been a double-edged sword: synonymous with anti-conformism and French national pride, but weighed down by Jean-Marie’s racism, antisemitism, and historical revisionism. Despite Marine’s efforts to “detoxify” the party over the past decade, bringing a more extreme right-wing politics into the mainstream, a segment of the French electorate has remained wary of her, reluctant to cast a ballot for anyone still associated with her father’s brand. Might the RN see in her ousting a unique opportunity to finally sever its most polarising ties and start anew?
Bardella, youthful and telegenic, seems like a natural choice. Unlike Marine, he carries none of the family’s historical baggage. His leadership presents a crucial test: can the RN thrive beyond the gravitational pull of the Le Pen dynasty? A non-Le Pen candidate in 2027 would suggest a major shift in the party’s DNA—a transition from family-run political enterprise into a self-sustaining force in French politics. It would no longer be a party that rises and falls with the Le Pen name, but a structured alternative to France’s traditional left-right divide.
Marine doesn’t seem keen to let things play out this way. Portraying herself as the victim of a political witchhunt, she has vowed to appeal the ruling. On Tuesday, she told the press that she was very much still planning to run in 2027.
Polls, however, show that a majority of French people believe the verdict to be fair. What is more, 22 per cent of those polled and 25 per cent of RN voters believe that Marine’s conviction might be a blessing for her party.
In the meantime, the RN seems poised to use the ruling to its advantage—with or without a Le Pen. Populist movements thrive on the idea of persecution, and there is no greater rallying cry than a leader struck down by the establishment. This, too, is a gift for the RN: Le Pen’s legal troubles are sure to reinforce the party’s anti-elite messaging and galvanise its base.
If the RN can successfully navigate this transition—consolidate support, appeal to moderate conservatives, and shed the RN’s most toxic associations—the party might not just survive without a Le Pen. It might finally be electable.
Marine Le Pen’s opponents, rather than celebrating her downfall, are treading carefully—aware that her conviction may do more to embolden the National Rally than weaken it. While some see justice served, but they also know this: the Le Pen dynasty might be over, but the movement is far from finished.
