As France moves toward its 2027 presidential election, a decades-old question about the soul of its far-right movement has resurfaced with new urgency. Investigative journalists at Mediapart have published what they describe as antisemitic writings attributed to Jordan Bardella, the young leader of the National Rally, from his teenage years as a party member — writings that, if authentic, would sit in direct contradiction to the party's carefully constructed narrative of transformation. The episode invites a deeper reckoning: whether a political movement can truly shed the ideology that gave i
Bardella denies antisemitism claims as far-right party faces 'total war' accusation
How could someone who wrote such statements lead a party that claims to have shed its hateful past?
So Bardella is saying Mediapart fabricated these comments entirely?
That's his position, yes. He called it false and said he'd sue for defamation. But Mediapart says they independently authenticated the messages across email and messaging platforms from 2013 to 2015.
And we should note—Mediapart is a credible outlet, but we're still dealing with allegations at this stage. Bardella denies them. The legal process will determine what actually happened.
What makes this moment so explosive for Le Pen's campaign?
She's spent fifteen years trying to rebrand the party away from its Nazi-linked founders and antisemitic history. She expelled her own father in 2015 for repeating antisemitic remarks. She's been directly appealing to Jewish voters, visiting Israel, positioning herself as their protector.
Right, but the party's founding members included former SS soldiers. That's not spin—that's documented history. So the question becomes: can a party with that DNA actually change, or is Bardella's alleged teenage writing evidence that the old ideology never left?
What are the political consequences if these comments are proven true?
It could undermine everything Le Pen has built. She's leading the polls heading into 2027. This scandal threatens to remind voters exactly where the party came from.
Though we should be careful here—the investigation is recent, the legal challenge is pending, and public opinion in France on the far right is complicated. We don't know yet how voters will respond.
Has Bardella addressed the substance of what he allegedly wrote?
Not directly. He's framed it as a political attack, a "total war" against his party. He got a standing ovation from his colleagues.
Which tells you something about party loyalty, but it doesn't answer whether the comments are authentic or what they mean about his actual beliefs now.
El Pulso
- Mediapart published documented evidence of virulent antisemitic statements allegedly written by Bardella between ages 17 and 18, including conspiracy theories about Jewish domination and control of banks.
- Bardella struck back immediately, calling the revelations a 'total war' against his party and announcing defamation proceedings — but the denial has done little to quiet the storm.
- The scandal strikes at the core of Marine Le Pen's fifteen-year effort to rehabilitate the National Rally's image, an effort that included expelling her own father and sending Bardella on a historic visit to Israel.
- Government ministers and opposition leaders have seized on the moment, with some calling for Bardella's resignation and others declaring that the party's antisemitic character was never truly abandoned.
- With Le Pen leading polls ahead of 2027, the RN now faces the most dangerous test of its 'detoxification' strategy — one that may determine whether French voters accept the party's reinvention or reject it as performance.
As France moves toward its 2027 presidential election, a decades-old question about the soul of its far-right movement has resurfaced with new urgency. Investigative journalists at Mediapart have published what they describe as antisemitic writings attributed to Jordan Bardella, the young leader of the National Rally, from his teenage years as a party member — writings that, if authentic, would sit in direct contradiction to the party's carefully constructed narrative of transformation. The episode invites a deeper reckoning: whether a political movement can truly shed the ideology that gave it life, or whether that past is always waiting, patient and unburied, beneath the surface of reinvention.
On a Tuesday in parliament, Jordan Bardella stood before his party's lawmakers and declared himself under siege. The head of Marine Le Pen's National Rally was responding to an investigation by Mediapart documenting antisemitic comments he allegedly wrote between 2013 and 2015, when he was seventeen and eighteen years old. He called it a coordinated attempt to destabilize the RN's presidential campaign — Le Pen currently leads the polls ahead of 2027 — and announced plans to sue for defamation. Le Pen stood beside him and offered her full confidence. The room applauded.
Mediapart's journalists said they had independently verified the comments, which appeared across email groups and messaging platforms over a two-year period. The alleged statements were unambiguous: that Jews sought to dominate and crush other peoples, that all banks were owned by Jews. These were not isolated remarks but a documented pattern.
The revelation lands at the most sensitive possible point in the National Rally's long effort at reinvention. When Marine Le Pen took control of the party in 2011 — then still called the Front National — it carried the full weight of its origins: founded in 1972 by her father Jean-Marie Le Pen alongside former Waffen SS soldiers and Vichy-era collaborators. Jean-Marie Le Pen had been convicted more than fifteen times for hate speech and had famously dismissed the Holocaust as a 'mere detail' of the Second World War. Marine expelled him from the party in 2015, courted Jewish voters, and sent Bardella to Israel in 2025 in an unprecedented gesture of outreach. Yet in 2023, Bardella had told a television audience that he did not consider the party's founder antisemitic — a position he only reversed after public backlash.
The political response was swift. France's foreign minister wrote that antisemitism was not incidental to the National Rally's history but constitutive of it. The minister for equality said the alleged messages revealed the true nature of the far right. Raphaël Glucksmann, a Socialist candidate, argued that no rebranding could alter what the party fundamentally was. Yonathan Arfi of CRIF, the umbrella body of French Jewish organizations, said he was 'stupefied by the virulence' of the comments and asked how someone who had written such things could credibly lead a party claiming to have left hatred behind.
The contradiction at the center of this moment is the story the National Rally has always struggled to escape: a movement founded in antisemitism, now presenting itself as the protector of French Jews, led by a man whose alleged teenage writings may embody the very ideology the party insists it has abandoned. As 2027 approaches, that contradiction remains unresolved.
Jordan Bardella stood before his party's lawmakers and senators in parliament on Tuesday and declared himself the victim of a coordinated attack. The head of Marine Le Pen's far-right National Rally was responding to an investigation published by Mediapart, the investigative news site, which had documented antisemitic comments he allegedly wrote between 2013 and 2015 when he was seventeen and eighteen years old. Bardella called it a "total war" waged against his party—an attempt to destabilize the presidential campaign as Le Pen leads the polls heading toward the 2027 election. He denied the report was accurate and said he would pursue legal action for defamation. Le Pen, standing beside him, offered her "absolute confidence" in his character. The room filled with applause from his party's representatives.
Mediapart's journalists said they had independently verified the comments, which appeared in email groups and messaging services from Bardella's early years as a party member. The alleged statements were stark. "The Jew has to dominate other peoples, crush them, and rob them; a Zionist is necessarily a Jew, and fundamentally so," he was said to have written. He also allegedly claimed that "all the banks are owned by Jews." These were not stray remarks but part of a pattern documented across multiple platforms over a two-year span.
The timing of the revelation cuts directly at the heart of Le Pen's fifteen-year project to remake her party's image. When she took control in 2011, the National Rally—then still called the Front National—carried the weight of its founding history. Her father, Jean-Marie Le Pen, had established the party in 1972 with members who included former soldiers from the Waffen SS Charlemagne division, a Nazi military unit. Pierre Bousquet, one of those former SS members, served as the party's treasurer for its first nine years. Another early member had belonged to the paramilitary militia under Philippe Pétain, whose Vichy regime collaborated with Nazi Germany and deported roughly 76,000 French Jews—about one-quarter of the country's Jewish population—to concentration camps. Jean-Marie Le Pen himself had spent decades making inflammatory statements: in 1987 he called the Holocaust a "mere detail" of the Second World War, and he was convicted more than fifteen times for hate speech and denying crimes against humanity.
Marine Le Pen expelled her father from the party in 2015 after he repeated antisemitic remarks, a move that signaled her determination to break with that past. In recent years she has directly courted French Jewish voters, telling them the National Rally would be their protector and describing the party as "the best shield for our fellow French citizens of Jewish faith." Bardella himself made an unprecedented visit to Israel in 2025, the first by a French far-right leader, intended to demonstrate the party's transformation. Yet in 2023, when asked on television whether he thought his party's founder was antisemitic, Bardella said no—a position he walked back only after public criticism.
The Mediapart investigation has shaken the campaign. France's foreign minister, Jean-Noël Barrot, responded by posting on social media that antisemitism was not an accident in the National Rally's history but rather its defining character. Aurore Bergé, the minister for equality and against discrimination, said the alleged messages revealed "the nature of the far right" to anyone who might have forgotten. Raphaël Glucksmann, a Socialist primary candidate, wrote that no public relations effort could change what the party fundamentally was: an organization founded by "antisemitic fanatics and out-and-out racists."
Yonathan Arfi, representing CRIF, the umbrella organization of French Jewish groups, told France Culture radio that he was "stupefied by the virulence" of the comments if they were authentic. He posed a direct question: how could someone who had written such statements rise to lead a party that claimed to have shed its hateful past? Marine Tondelier, the Green party leader, called for Bardella to resign from all his political positions, describing him as "an obsessional antisemite" who now presents himself as the Jews' greatest defender. The contradiction at the heart of the moment—a party built on antisemitism now claiming to protect Jews, led by a man whose teenage writings allegedly embodied the very hatred the party says it has abandoned—remains unresolved as the 2027 election approaches.
Citas Notables
We are seeing the beginnings of a total war, an attempt to destabilise the presidential campaign.— Jordan Bardella, in parliament
Antisemitism isn't an accident in the RN, it's that party's history. That's the real face of the far right.— Jean-Noël Barrot, French foreign minister