The smell of roasted duck and truffles is thick in the air of the Élysée Palace. But across the Channel, it is a political stench. A series of lavish state banquets in Paris, each costing upwards of €500,000, have ignited a firestorm on the French left. The opposition is calling it a “feast of the elite” while the working class tightens belts. Sound familiar?
Yet here in Westminster, the mood is more muted. There is a quiet, almost smug confidence. Our own state dinners, the thinking goes, are a necessary tool of soft power. A 2019 state visit by President Trump cost the taxpayer a reported £18 million. But no one threw a fit. Why? Because we understand the game.
The French left, led by Jean-Luc Mélenchon’s La France Insoumise, is demanding transparency and an end to such “pomp.” Marine Le Pen’s National Rally has joined the chorus, calling it a disgrace. But the deeper anger is about inequality. The gilets jaunes spirit lives on. Macron is playing with fire.
Downing Street sources are watching with barely concealed glee. “We know how to do austerity,” a senior aide told me over a pint. “And we know how to do tradition. The two aren’t mutually exclusive.” The aide pointed to our own royal banquets, often funded by the Sovereign Grant, as a contrast. They are opulent, yes. But they are also ritual. They are part of the fabric.
Food security is the other battleground. The UK, post-Brexit, has been trumpeting its “farm to fork” credentials. The French, with their protections for terroir, are suddenly the ones looking decadent. A Tory backbencher remarked: “When we have a banquet, it’s British beef. When the French do it, it’s foie gras. That tells you everything about their values.”
The Labour frontbench has stayed quiet, wary of being seen as anti-British tradition. But privately, some shadow ministers are uneasy. “We can’t have the Tories posing as defenders of the people’s feast,” one said. “The cost of living crisis is still here. A single banquet could feed a food bank for a year.” That’s the kind of calculation that may yet surface.
The real story is not the food. It is the politics of symbolism. Macron is trying to project strength and tradition. But for a leader already facing strikes over pension reforms, this is a gift to his opponents. Meanwhile, the British government is quietly learning a lesson: in times of austerity, the optics of excess can sink a government. Ask the Greeks. Ask the Italians.
For now, the UK’s own state dinners continue. But Whitehall is taking notes. The next time a menu is printed, there will be a careful look at the cost. Because the French left’s anger is not just about duck and truffles. It is about the signal that sends. And in a world of hot tempers and cold plates, that signal is everything.
