Palestine as a Battleground in the US–France Influence Game

Song Luzheng, The China Academy, July 28, 2025 —

Macron’s recognition of Palestine has little to do with justice or fairness. Rather, it is steeped in layers of international and domestic political calculation.

Amid a horrifying famine engulfing the Gaza Strip, French President Emmanuel Macron announced on July 24 that France will officially recognize the State of Palestine during the United Nations General Assembly in September. This move would make France the first G7 country to do so.

At present, at least 142 countries worldwide have recognized Palestine. France is a latecomer—not only globally, but even within the Western bloc. A year ago, Ireland, Spain, and Norway took the lead in Europe. Nevertheless, given France’s unique standing in both the Western world and on the global stage, the move has already triggered widespread international reverberations.

On the surface, Macron’s decision comes in response to the suffering in Gaza. He declared: “The immediate priority is to end the war in Gaza and provide relief to civilians.” To achieve that, “we must ultimately establish a Palestinian state, ensure its viability, and integrate it into the region’s security architecture by accepting demilitarization and fully recognizing Israel.”

Macron also called for an immediate ceasefire in Gaza, the release of all hostages, and large-scale humanitarian assistance for civilians. At the same time, he emphasized the need to “ensure Hamas is disarmed, make the Gaza Strip safe, and begin reconstruction.”

Indeed, the humanitarian disaster unfolding in Gaza was described on the same day—July 24—by UK Prime Minister Keir Starmer as “indescribable and indefensible,” with a demand that Israel immediately allow humanitarian aid into the territory.

In international relations, when a country chooses to act, timing is everything—it acts when costs are lowest and gains are highest. Macron has clearly seized such a moment. Of course, foreign policy always serves national interests; any altruism is merely incidental.

From France’s perspective, Macron’s move is driven by four major considerations.

Firstly, restoring France’s Influence in the Middle East
Since the end of the Chirac era, France—and Europe more broadly—has seen its influence in the Middle East plummet. This is largely due to two factors.

First, national decline and mounting internal challenges. Externally, France has faced the 2009 Eurozone debt crisis, the 2012 Arab Spring, large-scale refugee waves, terrorist attacks, Brexit, the COVID-19 pandemic, and intense competition from emerging powers. Internally, economic stagnation and immigration-driven populism have diverted attention from foreign affairs.

Second, France and Europe have diversified their energy sources. Both Russia and even the United States have become major global energy suppliers. France, in particular, relies heavily on domestic nuclear power—over 70% of its energy consumption for years. Though France decided in 2014 to reduce this to 50% by 2025 (from 73%), by the eve of the Russia–Ukraine war, the figure still stood at 62%. The war forced France to expand nuclear power once again, which now accounts for around 70% of its energy mix.

Since the 2023 Israel–Hamas conflict, the war has escalated steadily—eventually evolving into confrontation between Israel and Iran. Throughout this process, France and Europe have looked on like bystanders, effectively losing any sway in the region.

Why, then, does France want to regain influence in the Middle East? Two key reasons:

First, the Energy Crisis Exposed by the Ukraine War. The 2022 Russia–Ukraine conflict triggered a serious energy crisis across France and the rest of Europe. At one point, the government even restricted indoor heating in winter. I visited the Élysée Palace on official business during this period and can attest to the cold inside. While France, with its nuclear energy, was relatively better off, the situation remained dire.

Soaring energy prices have dealt a blow to France and Europe’s reindustrialization efforts, making them uncompetitive. Moreover, in the age of artificial intelligence, France is actively investing in the sector—but AI requires immense electricity, and France is ill-prepared. After losing access to Russian energy, Europe, including France, has been forced to pivot back toward the Middle East.

Secondly, France’s alliance with the U.S. is growing increasingly fragile. Since Donald Trump took office in 2017, U.S. foreign policy has focused on power and profit, pressuring allies to buy American goods—especially arms. Under Biden, the U.S. has gone further, using its anti-China stance as a pretext to strip France and Australia of a $60 billion submarine deal.

For France, arms sales are not just commerce—they are strategic. Maintaining an independent role in global affairs requires independent military R&D capabilities. But France, as a medium-sized power, cannot sustain this on domestic demand alone; it must rely on foreign buyers. The U.S. didn’t seize the submarine deal for the money—it was a calculated blow to French strategic autonomy.

In response, France has doubled down on expanding its global arms sales, especially in the Middle East—a region that is both volatile and wealthy. France is now the second-largest arms exporter to the region, after the U.S., with major clients including Qatar, Egypt, the UAE, and Saudi Arabia.

The Islamic world in the Middle East broadly sympathizes with and supports Palestine. Macron’s move is likely to resonate powerfully in the region, opening the door for France to reclaim its regional influence.

That’s why Macron wrote in his letter to Palestinian Authority President Mahmoud Abbas: by recognizing the Palestinian state, France seeks to make a “decisive contribution to peace in the Middle East” and “mobilize all international partners who wish to take part.” In essence, this is about restoring France’s role in the region.

Finally, there is the matter of prestige. For France and Europe—forces that still see themselves as global powers—being completely sidelined from the Middle East is not just humiliating; it is an existential threat to their global relevance.

Macron’s strategic adjustment is aimed mainly at the United States.

Though France and the United States both belong to the Western bloc, since the end of World War II, they have been entangled in deep-seated structural contradictions and strategic conflicts of interest.

France, having fallen from the ranks of great powers after its defeat in World War II, has regarded the restoration of its former global status as its supreme national interest. The United States, by contrast, rose from being a regional power to the world’s dominant hegemon—and its top national priority has since been to preserve that status. To this end, Washington has worked not only to contain the Soviet Union but also to consolidate the Western world under its own leadership. Through military occupation, it brought Germany and Japan under its control, and through the Marshall Plan and the founding of NATO, it extended that control to most of Western Europe.

For France to reclaim great-power status, it must break free from U.S. control. For the U.S. to unify the West, it must keep France firmly under its thumb. In short, their national strategies pull in opposite directions. Throughout the Cold War, France may have appeared to be part of the Western alliance, but it consistently challenged American strategic interests.

As some French international relations scholars have pointed out, France was constantly seeking leverage to counterbalance the United States during this period. In pursuit of that, France withdrew from NATO’s military command, established a special relationship with the Soviet Union, opened diplomatic ties with China, opposed U.S. interventions in Latin America, and criticized Washington’s involvement in Vietnam as an unjust war. (During this period, France not only held talks with North Vietnam but even sent a presidential envoy to attend Ho Chi Minh’s funeral.)

From France’s perspective, the end of the Cold War brought about a sharp decline in its international standing. It lost the strategic leverage of the “Soviet card” and the “China card,” Germany was reunified, and the European Union expanded—diluting France’s weight and influence within it. After the “Thirty Glorious Years” of post-war growth, the French economy began to stagnate. In the face of relative decline in national power, France increasingly had to rely on the external environment. But with the Cold War’s end ushering in unipolar U.S. dominance, France found little to lean on.

That changed in the 21st century. China’s rapid rise has pushed the world back toward a bipolar structure, and U.S.–China strategic competition has become the defining axis of global politics.

For France and the U.S., today’s landscape is, in some respects, a repeat of the Cold War: France seeks to leverage a bipolar world to pursue great-power status, while the U.S. seeks to rally the West in a unified front against China. Their strategic interests remain irreconcilable.

It is in this context that Macron’s sudden decision to recognize the State of Palestine sparked fierce backlash from both the U.S. and Israel. In  response, U.S. Secretary of State Marco Rubio said the United States “strongly rejects (Macron’s) plan to recognize a Palestinian state at the UN general assembly.” He added that “This reckless decision only serves Hamas propaganda and sets back peace. It is a slap in the face to the victims of October 7th.” The following day, U.S. President Donald Trump dismissed Macron’s position on the Palestine issue, stating that “what he says doesn’t matter.”

In essence, Macron’s move is part of a broader strategic contest with the United States. Since the beginning of this year, Macron has been actively promoting the “two-state solution” between Israel and Palestine. In June, France was scheduled to co-host a conference with Saudi Arabia to discuss the issue, but the event was postponed due to the outbreak of war between Israel and Iran.

Even during the preparation stage, the conference faced pressure from the United States. At the time, the Trump administration openly opposed any unilateral recognition of a Palestinian state and warned other countries against participating in France’s initiative. The message was clear: joining the French-led effort could be viewed by Washington as “anti-Israel” and contrary to U.S. foreign policy interests. In reality, the two sides had already laid their cards on the table long before Macron’s latest announcement.

Logically speaking, why would two allies like France and the United States reach a breaking point over a third party? The answer is simple: the third party—Palestine, in this case—is merely a chess piece in their larger power game. Just as with the Russia–Ukraine war, the most eager foreign actor turned out to be the United States, which is geographically far removed from the conflict. That’s because the essence of the Russia–Ukraine war is, in fact, a Russia–U.S. confrontation.

Take, for example, the contrast with how the U.S. reacted when Spain and two other countries recognized Palestine in 2024. At the time, only a spokesperson from the National Security Council issued a mild statement saying that President Biden continued to support a two-state solution, but believed Palestinian statehood should be achieved through direct negotiations between Israel and Palestine—not through unilateral recognition by other countries. It was a noticeably downplayed and restrained objection.

So it is no coincidence that on the very same day Macron announced France’s recognition of Palestine, the U.S. abruptly pulled out of ceasefire negotiations in Qatar concerning Gaza, stating it would “consider other alternative options” instead. The signal was unmistakable: the strategic wrestling match between Paris and Washington is far from over.

Another point worth noting: in the U.S.-initiated tariff war against Europe, France has taken the hardest line, demanding retaliation. This isn’t merely due to France running a trade deficit with the U.S.; more importantly, France seeks to leverage the collective weight of the EU to weaken American dominance. In fact, among the major Western powers, France remains one of the most China-friendly. That, too, is no coincidence.

Thirdly, Macron Is also driven by domestic considerations—including his own political interests

There are two major domestic factors at play.

First, France is home to Europe’s largest Jewish community—about 500,000 people—as well as the largest Muslim population in Western Europe outside of Germany, with around 6 million Muslims, accounting for roughly 9% of the total population. Every time conflict breaks out in the Middle East, it tends to ignite protests and unrest at home.

Following the outbreak of the Israel–Hamas war in 2023, attacks targeting Jews surged across France. The number of antisemitic incidents recorded in 2023 quadrupled from the previous year, reaching 1,676 cases. Meanwhile, pro-Palestinian street protests broke out repeatedly. At the prestigious Sciences Po in Paris, student activists even launched occupation movements and hunger strikes. French society has experienced a sharp escalation in polarization, ethnic tensions, and waves of protest.

In response, Macron’s government has had to strike a delicate balance—protecting Jewish citizens while also addressing the frustrations of Muslim communities, all in an effort to preserve social stability. Throughout both of Macron’s presidential terms, France has been rocked by large-scale social movements, many of which have turned violently confrontational. As he enters the final stretch of his time in office, Macron is keen to avoid yet another destabilizing crisis.

second, Macron’s move also serves his personal political needs. Since his high-stakes gamble to dissolve parliament failed a year ago, Macron has lost control over domestic affairs. Unwilling to become a lame duck prematurely, he has sought to regain political momentum through foreign policy—hoping that a strong performance on the international stage might influence the domestic political landscape. With the 2027 presidential election approaching, Macron is eager to retain control and safeguard his political legacy.

At present, France is grappling with two major domestic challenges.

First, the highly unpopular 2026 budget proposal, which involves steep spending cuts, is facing fierce resistance in parliament. Political infighting is intense, and opposition parties are threatening to bring down the government. In this context, Macron’s foreign policy maneuver may also be an attempt to divide and distract his opponents.

This is particularly relevant for the left, which has long positioned itself as pro-Palestinian—one of its core political stances. Macron’s recognition of Palestine, objectively speaking, aligns with the left’s most important demand. As a result, some left-wing parties—normally staunch critics of Macron’s policies—have unusually voiced support. Meanwhile, center-right and far-right parties, which tend to be more cooperative with the government, have opposed the move.

What’s especially interesting is the reaction from the National Rally, the largest party in the National Assembly. It opposed Macron’s decision, but not based on the substance of the issue—instead accusing him of “personal political calculation.”

Second, Macron is laying the groundwork for two upcoming elections. In March next year, France will hold mayoral elections, widely seen as a bellwether for the 2027 presidential race. All major political forces are gearing up for it. In the 2022 presidential election, left-wing candidate Jean-Luc Mélenchon won 70% of the Muslim vote and fell short of entering the runoff by just 1.2 percentage points. Five years later, demographic shifts mean that Muslim voters may well decide who makes it to the second round.

Given this, Macron’s recognition of Palestine will undoubtedly earn him goodwill from Muslim communities. And as the elections draw nearer, further outreach efforts to court their support are likely to follow.

In any case, the move has allowed Macron to reclaim political initiative and maintain the appearance of control—projecting the image of a leader still firmly in command. It has also reignited competition among France’s various political factions. Whether it will help push the budget through or influence future elections remains to be seen, but from a domestic political standpoint, Macron has clearly gained.

Lastly, France’s move also helps salvage the West’s tarnished image—especially regarding the embarrassing double standard. After the outbreak of the Russia–Ukraine war, the West imposed sweeping sanctions on Russia. Yet not a single developing country joined in. Accusations of Western hypocrisy and double standards have been persistent—especially regarding its pro-Israel stance in the Middle East.

More than a year later, the Israel–Hamas war erupted. Despite Israel’s excessive use of force and the resulting humanitarian catastrophe, there were no Western sanctions. Israel has since launched military strikes against sovereign states like Lebanon, Syria, and Iran, yet the West has turned a blind eye. This stands in sharp contrast to its reaction to Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.

Under international law and the UN Charter, Israel’s occupation of Palestinian territory is a fact. But unlike with Russia, the West has not imposed full-scale sanctions on Israel.

In this context, Macron’s move—though politically calculated—has at least helped soften skepticism from the Global South.

In conclusion, a country’s foreign policy ultimately serves its own national interest. Macron’s recognition of Palestine has little to do with justice or fairness. Rather, it is steeped in layers of international and domestic political calculation. His decision has already stirred the waters, both at home and abroad. Whether it sets off more unexpected chain reactions remains to be seen.