THE ALTAR BOYS WHO GREW UP TOGETHER — AND TRIED TO KEEP EUROPE’S CENTER FROM CRUMBING The lives of Daniel Caspary and René Repasi often overlapped as they grew up. In the European Parliament, they became political rivals — but were also united in common cause. By MAX GRIERA and NETTE NÖSTLINGER in Stutensee, Germany Photo-illustrations by Klawe Rzeczy for POLITICO Sometimes it’s the least extraordinary places that throw up the most startling of coincidences.   In this case, a tiny German town — nothing special: a stone’s throw from the Rhine river, a small 18th century castle, the kind of suburban sleepiness where boys like Daniel Caspary and René Repasi while away their teenage years cycling to the city to party or the nearest lake to cool off — has produced rival leading European politicians who have been key to assuring EU political stability in a time of unprecedented fragmentation.  The way their lives have intertwined is astonishing. Caspary, now 49, and Repasi, three years his junior, went to the same school. There, they both organized a cabaret of political satire. They honed their skills on the student newspaper. They were both altar boys in the same church. And they both scored their first political victories on their town’s council. Almost since birth, their lives have taken staggeringly parallel paths. Now, they’re on different sides in the European Parliament.  Advertisement Caspary is leader in the Parliament of the center-right Christian Democratic Union (CDU) and its Bavarian sister party, the Christian Social Union (CSU), the largest faction in the European People’s Party. Repasi is the equivalent for the center-left Social Democratic Party (SPD), the third-largest national delegation in the Socialists and Democrats group. The EPP and the S&D are the two biggest Parliament groups and for decades have between them held a grip on EU power. Despite the rivalry between their umbrella political families, with antagonism only worsening since the 2024 EU elections, the two men have cemented their reputation as the backchannels between the two sides, attempting to safeguard what in EU circles is known as the “grand coalition” between center right and center left. That’s significant because the Parliament is fractured like never before. Aping a trend seen across western democracies, the middle ground is crumbling. Politicians like Caspary and Repasi represent the old ways of doing things ― political opponents, yes, but ready to put aside their differences so their two sides can work together to face down the extremes. Increasingly, that’s no longer a given in the European Parliament. That was evident when the EPP, earlier this month, abandoned its traditional centrist allies and pressed ahead with the support of far-right groups to approve cuts to green rules.  Daniel Caspary, the charismatic old-school conservative deeply rooted in his community, in his class photo from the year he graduated. | Stutensee’s Thomas Mann-Gymnasium 1993-1994 annuary René Repasi, the cosmopolitan and slick social democrat with an impressive track record in academia, in his class photo from the year before he graduated. | Stutensee’s Thomas Mann-Gymnasium 1993-1994 annuary A good relationship between the pair has been particularly useful because the leaders of the two pan-European groups rarely conceal their mutual dislike and are increasingly finding it tough to reach compromise positions on new laws, such as on green rules for business or on controlling migration.  “Of course we have many differences politically, but it’s good if you can talk,” Caspary told POLITICO. “We’ve known each other for ages … We know that we can trust each other.”   “He was always a sort of leading figure,” Repasi said, remembering their shared childhoods in Stutensee. I “looked up to him.”  Advertisement While their paths overlapped, they could barely be more different personally and politically. Caspary is the charismatic old-school conservative deeply rooted in his community, pressing the flesh at local events and using the language of the person in the street. He still lives in the area. Repasi, by contrast, is the cosmopolitan ― the slick social democrat with an impressive track record in academia, a man of scholarly rhetoric who moved away from Germany completely. “What Repasi lacks,” said Mathias Zurawski, a journalist who attended the same school, “Caspary offers. And vice versa.”   ALTAR BOYS Stutensee’s discreet Catholic St. Josef Church is in the town’s backstreets. The garden surrounding it boasts abundant fruit trees. Posters advertise meetings of the scout group.  It’s humble in comparison to the more spectacular Protestant church on the main street. It’s here where the Caspary and Repasi families worshipped. And it’s where the two boys built trust in each other.  “We met for the first time in the youth groups of the Catholic church,” Caspary said. “We talked about this. I think this stands for some values. We always try to be honest.”  Those early religious experiences play a big role in Caspary’s life today, said Ansgar Mayr, a regional CDU politician who has known him since he made his first steps in politics.    Stutensee’s St Josef Catholic Church, where Caspary and Repasi used to serve as altar boys. | Max Griera/POLITICO “He was greatly influenced by his time in the Catholic Church and also his time with the Scouts, who are Catholic Scouts,” Mayr said. “His circle of friends, outside the political bubble, comes very much from the Catholic Church and parish youth groups.”   The pair served as altar boys, assisting the priest at Mass and kneeling as part of the liturgy. On Christmas, they sang carols around town. The Social Democrat Repasi’s Catholicism has lapsed somewhat, but despite being “one of those guys who go to church only at Christmas,” he said Christian values serve as guidance for his daily life and political career. CHAOS AND REVOLUTION The pair’s paths crossed again as teenagers in high school. The Thomas-Mann Gymnasium is just a stone’s throw from the church. It’s seen better days and is due to be renovated next year. For now, it still looks as it did in the 1990s. It’s easy to imagine Caspary and Repasi here. The lockers they’d have used line the corridors and the classrooms are plain, aside from the vintage orange cubical washbasins. In those years, they both dived into extracurricular activities. Caspary founded an annual political cabaret show. At 18, he handed the organizing baton to Repasi, who suddenly found himself facing the daunting task, he said, of raising money to cover costs.  “If the whole thing was a success, [that] was due to the fact that he [Caspary] handed it over, and we did the transition period together,” said Repasi.  Advertisement The boys’ school yearbooks portray two kids destined for greater things. Alongside a photo of Caspary humorously dressed as a medic, his classmates described him as “source of the most creative interjections (‘yes, but…’) that elicit a wide range of reactions from teachers, ranging from amusement to annoyance.” It’s “hard to believe,” the entry said, “that this chaotic person will one day take on a leading role as a conservative politician.”  Repasi’s friends saw him as a revolutionary. His portrait shows him wearing a Soviet hat. “Discussions with him often turn into fights,” his schoolmates said. “But no one else is as good at arguing objectively.”  The boys also bumped into each other on the school’s newspaper, Pepperoni. Caspary was already acting as a sporadic school reporter, when Repasi — a couple of years later — became editor in chief. The boys weren’t scared of hitting the establishment where it hurt. Pepperoni signified “something that stings”  so was “a means to express criticism,” said former teacher Sabine Graf, who taught French and German at the school at the time.  Yearbook of Daniel Caspary, featuring a photo of Thomas Mann blended with Albert Einstein’s famous tongue picture, symbolizing science. | 50 years anniversary book, Thomas Mann Gymnasium 1974-2024 Covers of the Pepperoni school magazine, which both Caspary and Repasi contributed to. | 50 years anniversary book, Thomas Mann Gymnasium 1974-2024 Yearbook of René Repasi, featuring a pig with a black flag, symbolizing social class revolution and anarchism. | 50 years anniversary book, Thomas Mann Gymnasium 1974-2024 Those shared experiences form the basis of the two men’s relationship in the Parliament today. “You can always say you can trust me,” Repasi said. “But actually you can only do so if you have experienced it. And I experienced it in my past that I can trust him and that I can rely on him.”  VOTERS’ CRITICISM These days, Stutensee isn’t immune to the political winds that blow across the whole of Europe. With populism, of right and left, on the rise, centrist politicians who broadly prefer to focus on points of agreement rather than division aren’t in vogue. The Alternative for Germany (AfD) came in second in Germany’s national election earlier this year ― the best showing for a far-right party since the Nazi rise to power. The AfD isn’t represented on the city council here, but locals acknowledge there’s a desire to kick the establishment. An establishment symbolized by men like Caspary and Repasi. Despite their deep roots in the town, many reject the idea they’re local heroes. “They show up at some celebratory events around town with their family a couple of times a year, but you don’t hear from them afterwards,” said a 37-year-old bartender at the smoke-filled bar in town, who gives his name only as Dominik. A handful of people at the bar hear his remarks and nod.  Dominik also went to Thomas-Mann Gymnasium. He knew Caspary’s brother. But he insisted neither politician can be trusted. They’re not “looking out for the interests of the people,” he said.  But early on in their careers, the two politicians made some tangible changes for locals. When they were both on their school’s student council,  Caspary campaigned for a night bus line between Stutensee and the city of Karlsruhe, 10km away. In some ways, he succeeded, advancing a cause that led to the construction of a durable tram connection built years later.   “During this campaign, I realized that if you start engaging with the town representatives, like the mayor, like the city council members, then you can change things,” Caspary said.      Advertisement Repasi’s political awakening came when the regional government tried to cut by a year the time that students attended high school to align practices with other European countries. The school’s leadership wanted to participate in the pilot, despite most students being opposed. “I found it total nonsense,” Repasi said. “I was mobilizing the school kids to come to this meeting of the municipal council, and I think for the first time ever it was totally full.”     The students cheered loudly when their arguments, compiled by Repasi, were presented to the mayor. The council ultimately rejected the plan. If the bus line was Caspary’s first political victory, this was Repasi’s.  MR. STUTENSEE VS. MR. EUROPE Eventually, they drifted apart.   These days, Caspary’s image is one of a politician still deeply rooted to his home, who found his way to Brussels by chance. People close to him describe him as a family man, raising his five children just a few kilometers from where he grew up. Repasi, in contrast, is seen as a professor-turned-politician, someone with a strong passion for European affairs who deliberately chose to build his life abroad.   Classroom of Thomas Mann Gymnasium, intact since Caspary and Repasi studied in it. | Max Griera/POLITICO For Repasi, who was raised by a German mother and Hungarian father, “cosmopolitanism runs through his life,” said Graf, the schoolteacher. She and another former teacher both recalled his in-depth study on the Yugoslav Wars. He became a professor of European law in Geneva and Rotterdam, where he raised two sons with his Polish wife.    Caspary was elected to the European Parliament almost by accident in 2004, at 28, because of the CDU’s exceptionally strong showing.   “My plan was to become the chairperson of the group in my city council,” he said.  Advertisement For Repasi, on the other hand, ending up working in an EU institution was his dream, according to colleagues. He even dabbled with joining Caspary in the CDU. But in his village, the party didn’t feel very welcoming, he said. “I’m Western-looking enough not to have any discrimination experiences like Turkish people, but my strange family name was strange enough in my village,” he said.   Repasi’s road to the Parliament was bumpier than Caspary’s. He ran in three elections but never made it, ultimately joining when another SPD member gave up her mandate in 2022. TOGETHER IN BRUSSELS ― AND THEN APART AGAIN Reuniting in the European Parliament was almost like a homecoming for Repasi. Caspary presented him with a basket of delicacies from the region around Stutensee. Repasi’s rise since then has been rapid. He became the head of the SPD faction in the S&D only two years after his arrival. And in that time, they’ve put their friendship to good use. Cordial catchups soon turned into high-level political negotiations. They were suddenly in charge of leading the biggest German parties in the Parliament and had to overcome the increasing estrangement between their group leaders, Manfred Weber, the head of the EPP group, and Iratxe García, the S&D chair. Caspary was elected to the European Parliament almost by accident in 2004 because of the CDU’s exceptionally strong showing. | Michael Kappeler/picture alliance via Getty Images For Repasi, ending up working in an EU institution was his dream. | Marijan Murat/picture alliance via Getty Images That’s why they have been in constant dialogue, “to bring together political lines,” Caspary said. “We do speak about conflicts that are arising,” Repasi said. “Whether we can totally solve them is a different question.”  Other MEPs say the good relationship between the German conservatives and Socialists has proved critical. “The stability of the mandate” ― European Commission President Ursula von der Leyen’s loose coalition of centrist parties ― “is at stake, and what can help cement a stronger cooperation is the link between the CDU and SPD,” said Javi López, a Spanish S&D lawmaker and Parliament vice-president.     But nothing lasts forever and the double act is about to split once more. In October, the German government nominated Caspary to be its representative at the European Court of Auditors, in Luxembourg. Advertisement On Thursday he is expected to be confirmed by the Parliament. That will leave a gap, according to his colleagues. “Over the years, he has been a steady and unifying presence, bringing together a team of highly diverse personalities,” said Niclas Herbst, chair of the Parliament budgetary control committee, and one of the names floated to succeed Caspary. “He is, in the best sense, a true generalist — someone who can swiftly and thoroughly grasp complex political issues … I know there is great anticipation in Luxembourg for his arrival.”  When Caspary departs, Repasi will have to find himself another opposite number to build up a trusting relationship. But it remains to be seen whether the fraying ties between center right and center left can retain at least one strong thread. While that won’t be impossible, it certainly won’t come as easy as a relationship forged in little Stutensee. Out of experiences in church, student politics and the school newspaper, the foundations held up well.

Slovak police on Thursday said the new amendment to a traffic law that sets a maximum permitted speed on sidewalks in urban areas does not apply to pedestrians. Several local and international media, including POLITICO, earlier reported that the law — which sets a limit of 6 kilometers per hour — will apply to pedestrians as well. “I must clarify that this is not true,” police Vice President Rastislav Polakovič told Slovak media. “The rule is intended for people using roller skates, scooters, skateboards, skis, or similar sports equipment, as well as cyclists up to 10 years old, including their escorts. The measurements should focus on these groups.” The initial announcement sparked a wave of amusement and confusion on social media, with some internet users wondering whether running to catch a bus could get them fined. The legislation that was updated by the new amendment applies to various sidewalk users. The measure, which will enter into force on Jan. 1, 2026, was introduced to avoid collisions on the sidewalks. “The main goal is to increase safety on sidewalks in light of the increasing number of collisions with scooter riders,” said the author of the amendment, Ľubomír Vážny of the leftist-populist Smer party of Prime Minister Robert Fico, which is part of the ruling coalition. The change drew backlash from the opposition, NGOs and political scientists. “In the Czech Republic, this issue is addressed by banning scooters and e-bikes on sidewalks, while the Slovak approach has led to a rather bizarre piece of legislation,” political scientist Lubomír Kopeček at the Masaryk University in Brno told POLITICO. The cyclist advocacy group Cyklokoalícia (Cycling Coalition) said the legislation is problematic because it pushes children under the age of 10 — who are now allowed to cycle on pavements — into the road.

You can only walk 6 kilometers per hour if you want to follow the law in Slovakia. The Slovak parliament Tuesday afternoon adopted an amendment to the traffic law that sets a maximum permitted speed on sidewalks in urban areas at 6 kph. The limit applies to pedestrians, cyclists, skaters, and scooter and e-scooter riders — all of who are allowed on sidewalks — and aims to avoid frequent collisions. “The main goal is to increase safety on sidewalks in light of the increasing number of collisions with scooter riders,” said the author of the amendment, Ľubomír Vážny of the leftist-populist Smer party of Prime Minister Robert Fico, which is part of the ruling coalition. The amendment will be useful in proving violations, the lawmaker said, “especially in cases where it’s necessary to objectively determine whether they were moving faster than what’s considered an appropriate speed in areas meant primarily for pedestrians.” Although the law will come into force Jan. 1, 2026, proponents haven’t publicly spelled out how they plan to enforce it. The average walking speed typically ranges between 4 to 5 kph. However, the British Heart Foundation reports that a pace of 6.4 kilometers per hour is considered moderate for someone with excellent fitness. The opposition criticized the change, and even the Slovak Interior Ministry said it would be more appropriate to prohibit e-scooters from the sidewalks than impose a general speed limit. Martin Pekár of the opposition liberal party Progressive Slovakia said pedestrians face danger from cars, not cyclists or scooters, and that the amendment penalizes sustainable transport. “If we want fewer collisions, we need more safe bike lanes, not absurd limits that are physically impossible to follow,” Pekár said. “At the mentioned speed, a cyclist can hardly keep their balance,” he added. The amendment has sparked a wave of amusement on social media, with some wondering whether running to catch a bus could get them fined.

RINGASKIDDY, Ireland — When Pfizer started manufacturing its anti-impotence drug Viagra in southwestern Ireland, locals experienced a spike in sexual arousal, five-legged rabbits proliferated, and visitors took U-turns back to their spouses after fumes from its local plant drifted in through their car windows.   That’s according to local legend, at least.  These stories “transited through the local pub,” said Pat Hennessy, a long-term resident of Shanbally, just up the road from the coastal village of Ringaskiddy. “There was a girl there and she said: ‘One whiff and they’re stiff.’”   The impact of Big Pharma on the area, however, goes far beyond amusing anecdotes: Its arrival in the 1970s turned a sleepy fishing village into an industrial powerhouse and turbocharged economic growth in County Cork. But today, the industry — and the region that depends on it — are in the eye of U.S. President Donald Trump’s tariff storm.  As he drives to slash the massive U.S. trade deficit, Trump says he is determined to reshore the production of weight-loss drugs, cancer treatments and other pharmaceuticals. He has threatened to eventually slam tariffs as high as 250 percent on the sector.  Ireland, Trump says, “took our pharmaceutical companies away” with its tax policies: Of the $213 billion of medicines the U.S. imports, the largest share comes from Ireland, a global leader in the production of expensive brand-name medicines. Dublin’s liberal tax regime has exerted an irresistible pull on U.S. Big Pharma for decades.  Locals find only limited solace in a deal struck in July between the European Union and the White House which — at least on paper — caps U.S. tariffs on pharmaceutical imports from the EU at 15 percent and exempts generic medicines. Ireland, as one of the EU’s most open economies, is particularly vulnerable to the tariffs, and uncertainty persists over Trump’s next moves and the damage they could inflict.  “It’s still like an axe hanging over us,” said David Collins, the fifth-generation owner of a family-run store in Carrigaline, a commuter town 20 minutes by bike from Ringaskiddy. “It’s a constant threat.”  The area is home to seven of the 10 largest pharma companies worldwide. More than 11,000 people in County Cork work in the industry — with tens of thousands more in ancillary jobs. Ringaskiddy alone hosts Pfizer and Johnson & Johnson, Sterling Pharma Solutions producing for Novartis, as well as smaller firms such as Recordati, BioMarin and Hovione. In addition to Viagra’s active ingredient, critical components of cardiology, immunology and oncology medications are made here.   PITCH AND PUTT  When Pfizer arrived in 1969, its workers spent their lunch breaks building a course to play pitch and putt — a scaled-down version of golf — for the local community, recalled Michael Goably, a pensioner, while enjoying his morning coffee at the clubhouse of Raffeen Creek Golf Club, nestled on the lush shores of Cork harbour.  As the name suggests, a nine-hole golf course, also built on land owned by Pfizer, now complements the pitch and putt. It’s just one example of how the area has benefited from big pharma: Ask the locals, and they’ll tell you the industry’s contribution far outweighs the side effects, such as commuter traffic and environmental pollution.  “I couldn’t say a bad word,” said Ray Keohane, another golfer taking a break on a bench between rounds.  The town of Carrigaline, once an agricultural village, now counts 20,000 residents, as well as a hotel, several supermarkets and a lively shopping street.  “When I was a child growing up in Carrigaline, there was one main industry, and it was called Carrigaline Pottery … there wasn’t a family in the area of Carrigaline that didn’t at least have one person working in the pottery,” said Collins, the supermarket owner.  “Roll on 50 years later, that’s been replaced by the pharmaceutical industries.”  CELTIC TIGER  The arrival of multinational corporations softened the impact of the closure of manufacturing sites by carmaker Ford and Dunlop, a tyre company, in the 1980s. “Ireland as a country wasn’t doing well, but Cork was a particularly black spot then,” said John O’Brien, a lecturer in finance at University College Cork. “The combination of pharmaceuticals and IT … together really have brought up the city,” he added, referring to Ireland’s second-largest city Cork, which hosts the EU headquarters of tech giant Apple.   Nationally, the success in the pharma sector helped drive economic growth in Ireland’s “Celtic Tiger” era from the 1990s to the late 2000s. That’s thanks to large-scale foreign investment — especially from the U.S. — low corporate taxes, a skilled English-speaking workforce and EU membership.  According to Louis Brennan, an emeritus professor at Trinity College Dublin, pharma’s contribution was threefold: It created high-value and high-paying jobs, led to the development of an ecosystem of suppliers and subcontractors, and generated government revenues.   Cork has also established itself as a hub for higher education in pharma-related fields.   TARIFF GAMES  Since Trump’s return to the White House, that engine of the Irish economy finds itself under (verbal) attack, exposing just how much Irish success hinges on the country’s capacity to remain the go-to location for U.S. firms, which beyond welcoming tax benefits have also long shifted their profits and patents there.  “We want pharmaceuticals made in our country,” Trump told CNBC in August.  As part of his vow to slash drug prices and bring manufacturing back to the U.S., Trump in April opened a so-called Section 232 investigation into the pharmaceutical sector to probe the impact of imports on national security and impose tariffs if needed.   Analysts estimate that Trump is unlikely to impose a tariff as high as the threatened 200 or 250 percent. However, a first “lower tariff” — no higher than 15 percent, provided Trump does indeed stick to the terms of the EU-U.S. agreement — could yet be followed by a heavily disruptive tariff of around 50 percent after a year or two. The message isn’t lost on big pharma: Giants such as Eli Lilly and Johnson & Johnson have this year announced new investments in the U.S. Yet experts warn Trump’s tariff policy risks driving up drug prices and leading to shortages, rather than spurring large-scale relocation.  While the 15 percent tariff cap foreseen by the EU-U.S. deal offers the industry a reprieve, companies need to make tricky calculations, warned Dan O’Brien, chief economist at the Institute of International and European Affairs, an Irish think tank.  “For those products that are uniquely made in Ireland there is at least some element of a buffer: It’ll take a few years for production to move out of Ireland, in a worst-case scenario,” he said. For products also made elsewhere, it will be easier to shift production and “could happen more quickly,” he added.  RISKY BUSINESS   For now, those scenarios remain hypothetical — but the unpredictability is already leaving its mark.   As companies rushed to export their goods, Irish pharma exports to the U.S. surged by nearly 50 percent in the first five months of this year. “Geopolitical concerns” now rank among the top three threats to business in the Cork Chamber of Commerce’s last survey of its members.  Companies are mostly keeping quiet. Pfizer and Johnson & Johnson declined to comment for this story, whereas Sterling Pharma Solutions, BioMarin, Recordati and Hovione did not respond to requests for comment. Novartis, which is supplied by Sterling Pharma Solutions, warned that “the introduction of tariffs risks creating additional barriers that could further delay access to life-saving treatments.”  Giants such as Eli Lilly and Johnson & Johnson have this year announced new investments in the U.S. | Cristina Arias/Getty Images Reacting to the deal between the EU-U.S. deal, the Irish Pharmaceutical Healthcare Association warned that “tariffs on medicines would be a substantial new cost where there was none before and a drag on investment, jobs and innovation.”  A worker at a pharma plant in the area, granted anonymity to protect their job security, told POLITICO output had slowed in the last couple of months as the company waited to regain planning certainty. Similarly, Dan Boyle, a Green Party councillor for Cork and the city’s former mayor, said companies told him that “our hope was that we would have announced future investment for 2030, and that’s being sat on, until we know what the situation is going to be.”  UNDER PRESSURE  Local, national and European politicians are acutely aware of just how much is at stake.  Séamus McGrath, a Dáil deputy for the Cork South-Central constituency, called for a “continuous process of renegotiation and engagement” with Washington.   “We need to renew our pitch and renew our attraction as a country for foreign direct investment,” said McGrath, sitting in the lobby of the Carrigaline Court Hotel, the town’s only hotel. “You cannot sit back.”   The politician with the co-governing centrist Fianna Fáil party entertains strong ties with Brussels, not least thanks to his brother, EU Justice Commissioner Michael McGrath.  In the EU capital, lawmakers from the region are urging the EU to boost the bloc’s competitiveness. Cynthia Ní Mhurchú, of the liberal Renew Europe group, called for cutting “excessive red tape” for businesses. And Seán Kelly, an MEP with the centre-right European People’s Party, welcomed the European Commission’s plans to secure access to new markets through trade deals.  After all, for locals back on the Irish coast, power politics determine no less than their personal future.  “They say they [the big companies] will go away,” said Amy Lyons, a bartender at Ringaskiddy’s only pub, The Ferry Boat Inn.    “I’m doing a biopharma course in college. So, imagine I get my degree, and they are gone,” she added as she drew pints for the regulars, who were discussing a new road being built to ease road congestion — caused by commuter traffic to the pharma plants.  Graphics by Hanne Cokelaere.

PARIS — In France, getting rid of governments is now about as commonplace as complaining about them. François Bayrou is bracing to become the latest prime minister to get the chop on Monday ― primarily because of discontent over his spending plans for next year ― leaving President Emmanuel Macron on the hunt for a fifth PM in less than two years. The political crisis could have ramifications far beyond the halls of power in Paris if lawmakers can’t figure out how to rein in runaway public spending and a massive budget deficit. Here’s everything you need to know about the drama ahead: HE’S DEFINITELY GOING, RIGHT? Yes, it’s pretty much nailed on that Bayrou will fall. Anything else would need a last-minute U-turn from a big chunk of opposition lawmakers, and that would be a massive shock. His fate seem sealed in the hours after he unveiled his plan for a confidence vote late last month, when leaders from the far-left France Unbowed, far-right National Rally and center-left Socialist Party all announced they would vote to bring down the government. Neither Bayrou’s PR blitz nor his meetings with political leaders last week appear to have moved the needle. SO WHAT’S HAPPENING MONDAY? Bayrou is delivering what’s known as a d´eclaration de politique générale (general policy statement), a speech traditionally given at the outset of a prime minister’s tenure to lay out an incoming government’s platform and priorities. (It’s a bit like a state of the union.) The longtime centrist is using this one to make the case for his unpopular 2026 budget. Prime ministers often follow their addresses with a confidence vote to ensure support for their agendas, though they aren’t constitutionally obliged to do so. Bayrou didn’t hold a vote after his January DPG, nor did any of his predecessors during Macron’s second term. Christophe Petit Tesson/EPA This time, he will. Bayrou has tried to frame the vote as a referendum on the need for drastic action to balance the books and has quibbled with the French media’s framing of Monday’s drama as a confidence vote or censure. But in practice, that’s what it is. HOW WILL THE DAY UNFOLD? Bayrou’s speech will begin at 3 p.m. in the National Assembly in Paris, France’s more-powerful lower house of parliament. Representatives from each political party will follow, with each of their speaking times determined by how many seats they have. Then the prime minister will have the opportunity to deliver closing remarks. Voting should take place around 7 p.m. or 8 p.m. and should last about 30 minutes, after which the president of the National Assembly will announce the results. Macron’s office has not yet said whether he will speak following the vote. When ex-Prime Minister Michel Barnier was toppled in December, Macron waited 24 hours to deliver a primetime address. HOW DID WE GET HERE? Let’s rewind to June 9, 2024, when the far-right National Rally scored a huge win in the European election. Macron responded by dissolving parliament, a massive bet that backfired in spectacular fashion. In the ensuing vote, an alliance of left-leaning political parties won more seats than any other political force, but fell short of an absolute majority. After nearly two months without a proper government, Macron’s centrists and the center-right conservatives agreed to form a minority coalition led by former Brexit negotiator Barnier. Barnier lasted three months, taken down in December over his plan to trim the 2025 budget to help rein in runaway public spending. Macron replaced Barnier with Bayrou, who in July presented a plan to squeeze next year’s budget by €43.8 billion to get the budget deficit down from a projected 5.4 percent of gross domestic product this year to 4.6 percent of GDP in 2026. Opposition lawmakers howled in fury at the plan, which included axing two public holidays. In late August, as the French started to trickle back from their summer vacations, Bayrou stunned the country by announcing that he would hold a confidence vote on his spending plans before what were expected to be tense negotiations. SHOULD I CARE? Yes, because the ensuing crisis in the eurozone’s second-biggest economy could drag the entire bloc into a debt-fueled financial crisis, according to Bayrou. France was able to stave off an economic catastrophe during the pandemic and when energy prices shot up at the outset of the full-scale war in Ukraine, in part thanks to massive public spending. Finding a consensus on reining in expenditures has proven difficult, and lawmakers are loath to tighten their belts as aggressively as Bayrou wants. His plan would bring France’s budget deficit down from a projected 5.6 percent of GDP this year to 4.6 percent in 2026. The ultimate goal is to bring that figure down to 3 percent, as required by EU rules, by 2029. Financial institutions and rating agencies have repeatedly warned of consequences should France fail to act, some of which are no longer hypothetical. Borrowing costs are rising, with the yield on France’s benchmark 10-year bonds ― a useful indicator of faith in a country’s finances ― drifting away from historically safe Germany’s yields and toward those of Italy, a country long synonymous with reckless spending and unsustainable debt.   Getting the French to tighten their belts has so far proven to be Mission Impossible, but the situation is not yet so dire that it’s time to call in the IMF. Bayrou, however, is betting his political future that history will prove him right.

Elisabeth Braw is a senior fellow at the Atlantic Council, the author of the award-winning “Goodbye Globalization” and a regular columnist for POLITICO. For many locals the world over, this summer — just like every summer and, indeed, every month — tourism brings misery rather than enjoyment. In Barcelona, locals fed up with overtourism took to the streets in protest. In Genoa, Lisbon and the Canary Islands, they did the same. And in Venice, locals were enraged their city had to play backdrop to tech billionaire Jeff Bezos’s wedding party. Copenhagen, however, has turned the tourism curse on its head, inviting visitors to do good deeds for the city and be rewarded for it in return. And it’s time other cities got similarly creative. “During 2024, the Spanish tourism sector experienced its best year since 2019. Its contribution to GDP rose by almost 8% to €248.7 billion, or 15.6% of the economy. It also employed 3 million people, nearly 14% of the country’s total jobs,” the World Travel & Tourism Council reported in May. For many Spaniards, though, this hardly feels like good news. In fact, it’s quite the opposite. To them — and to locals in many other cities tourists like to visit — what it actually means is overcrowding, lack of housing and constant littering. It’s a cursed bargain, tourism: It brings in cash and jobs, but the more tourism you get, the more locals’ discomfort turns to misery. These days, even the trails leading up to the Himalayas are tainted by litter — and don’t even mention Instagram tourism. But tourism doesn’t need to be this destructive. Switzerland, for example, has begun giving rail discounts to those who book a stay at sustainable hotels, and it charges anyone visiting the Lake Brienz pier, which was made famous by the Korean drama “Crash Landing on You,” 5 Swiss francs. The proceeds are then invested in local infrastructure. Copenhagen’s approach is even more innovative. Last year, the Danish capital launched CopenPay, a scheme that invites tourists to do good deeds for the city — and get rewarded. “All you need to do is, for instance, bike instead of drive, help maintain the city, work in an urban garden or take the train to Copenhagen instead of flying, stay longer at the destination,” CopenPay explains. The initiative was launched as a four-week pilot program last year, and this summer it expanded to nine weeks, with 100 attractions participating — a fourfold increase. For instance, as part of CopenPay, there are currently 15 different opportunities to clean up litter across the city, one of which is to “Clean the harbor with GreenKayak and enjoy a free non-alcoholic drink and rye bar with your Smørrebrød purchase at Hallernes Smørrebrød.” While I can’t speak for everyone, to me, cleaning the harbor in central Copenhagen by kayak certainly sounds like an exciting undertaking I’d do for free — though I’d also happily claim the beverage. And if that doesn’t quite strike your fancy, you can help clean the harbor by self-sailing boat too. And picking up litter is just the beginning. If you bike or use public transport to get to the National Museum, you get a free ice cream with your entry ticket. If you arrive in Copenhagen by train or electric car, you get similarly rewarded. There are free bike rentals, free yoga sessions, free guided tours, all waiting to be claimed. Visitors arriving by train from abroad can even get free surplus meals at Copenhagen Central Station. There are free bike rentals, free yoga sessions, free guided tours, all waiting to be claimed. | Mads Claus Rasmussen/EPA You get the idea: Be a good citizen while you visit, and good things will come your way. And hopefully the impact of CopenPay — and other similar initiatives currently in the works — won’t stop there. Imagine if participants start thinking differently about their role as tourists. Once you take part in city maintenance as a temporary sanitation worker, perhaps you start viewing your surroundings less as an Instagram commodity and more as a local community worth protecting. Imagine what such participatory schemes could do for other tourist destinations, especially those most affected by throngs of oblivious visitors. I’ve long wondered how Romans can be so tolerant of the throngs that crowd their beautiful piazzas and narrow streets. How could the local government convince visitors to stop congregating and littering in front of Fontana di Trevi? Perhaps they should introduce a scheme inviting tourists to pick up litter and intimately get to know a street or two, or perhaps sweep the floor of one of the city’s many stunning churches, or tend to part of a graveyard. It would certainly be a memory to tell one’s friends about. Yes, there are reasons why such initiatives may not work. Dishonest tourists will claim to have done a good deed when they haven’t — CopenPay, for example, operates on an honor system. But tourism isn’t just a burden to locals, it’s a burden on our planet. It emits some 8 percent of the world’s carbon dioxide and is 20 percent more carbon-intensive than the average for the global economy. Offering tourists the opportunity to pick up litter as they explore local waterways may not work for every town and city, but each destination can easily come up with its own innovative ideas. Just imagine cities full of visitors who bring a helping hand as well as their cash. That ought to be tourism we can live with.

Helsinki hasn’t registered a single traffic-related fatality in the past year, municipal officials revealed this week. Although road deaths are on the decline across the EU, with a 3 percent decrease in 2024, accidents with tragic outcomes are still commonplace in metropolitan areas. To go a full year without one is a remarkable feat for most cities — let alone a European capital. In 2023, 7,807 Europeans lost their lives in traffic accidents in EU cities. Fifty-five people died in traffic accidents in Berlin last year, and nine individuals lost their lives in collisions in the Brussels region over the past 12 months. While Helsinki is among the smallest EU capitals, with a little under 690,000 residents, some 1.5 million people live in and commute throughout the metropolitan area. Roni Utriainen, a traffic engineer with the city’s Urban Environment Division, told the Finnish press that the achievement was attributable to “a lot of factors … but speed limits are one of the most important.” Citing data that shows the risk of pedestrian fatality is cut in half by reducing a car’s speed of impact from 40 to 30 kilometers per hour, city officials imposed the lower limit in most of Helsinki’s residential areas and city center in 2021. The limits were enforced with 70 new speed cameras and a policing strategy based on the national “Vision Zero” policy, with the goal of achieving zero traffic injuries or deaths. Data collected by Liikenneturva, Finland’s traffic safety entity, shows Helsinki’s traffic fatalities have been declining ever since. EUROPEAN MODEL Helsinki’s authorities have spent the past five years trying to replicate the miracle they first achieved in 2019, when no pedestrians or cyclists were killed in automotive collisions. Utriainen stressed the mission’s success is based on data-driven, long-term mobility policies and urban development strategies that have transformed the once car-centric capital. In many parts of the city, roads have been narrowed and trees have been planted with the deliberate goal of making drivers uncomfortable — the rationale being that complex urban landscapes force drivers to move more cautiously through populated areas. The city has also invested in new pedestrian and cycling infrastructure, including a comprehensive network of cycling paths that span over 1,500 kilometers. It has boosted its public transportation network with decarbonized and self-driving buses, and received European Investment Bank funding for a new tram line. Utriainen said the upgrades helped “reduce car use and, with it, the number of serious accidents.” And statistics show that between 2003 and 2023, the number of traffic-related injuries in the city dropped from 727 to just 14. Helsinki’s success is being noted in Brussels, where the European Commission is pressing to curb road fatalities. Earlier this year, Transport Commissioner Apostolos Tzitzikostas noted most member countries weren’t on track to meet the EU’s 2018 goal of halving traffic-related fatalities by 2030. Hanne Cokelaere contributed to this article.