We are reposting here a translated version of an analysis from the media “Sans trève,” which we find revealing, regarding the difficulties contemporary social movements may face in moving beyond leftist clichés to reconnect with the combative path pioneered by the Yellow Vests. Despite our major disagreements with the authors on other points, we must acknowledge here that their analysis of the counterrevolutionary interests of many leftist activists (here grouped as the “managerial class”) echoes our experience on the ground during the painful failure of the September 10 movement.
"Given the situation in which they find themselves, the middle management classes are being driven toward radicalization and regularly issue supernatural appeals that resonate only with those who still have good reasons to believe in them. The ready-made organizational responses following the failed events of September 10, 2025, reduce the problem to one of purely tactical considerations. However, tactical issues are overdetermined by class relations; what happened in the assemblies and in the streets is merely the expression of a class struggle: that of the managerial classes to regain political hegemony." Sans Trève
While the September 10 movement may soon fade into oblivion, we believe it is worthwhile to revisit it because it allows us to observe directly some of the most striking contradictions of our time. In this case, September 10 seems to present, in a condensed and, so to speak, dramatized form, the dead ends of some of the recent struggles. That day surprised us in two respects. First, because of the sheer amount of preparation it generated. Tens of thousands of people engaged in various forms of organization and committed themselves to prepare for a movement they hoped would be massive. Rarely has a political movement sparked such an effort at organization, especially outside of political and union bodies. However, despite the efforts made in the runup to the event, the tactical successes of the 10th were limited, if not nonexistent. Furthermore, this day seems to have produced no ripple effect, struggling to gain momentum after a single day of mobilization. Worse still, the movement failed to exert any influence on the ongoing political crisis, unable to avert the prospect of an austerity budget.¹ What strikes us is the gap between the massive organizational effort devoted to this day and the concrete result it produced: relative nothingness.
To understand the reasons for this gap, a simple tactical and organizational analysis of the day and its preparation seems to us to be far from sufficient. We could probably spend forever wondering what was missing or what went wrong in the slogans or the organizational methods. Limiting ourselves to that however, means that we miss the essential point, which in our view relates to the specific social and historical situation in which situates and shapes every political event. To explain our theoretical approach, we believe it is important to briefly outline a few general principles of analysis. We have spoken of the “social and historical situation.” What does this mean materially? That all political activity must be analyzed as the specific activity of a social class² (this is the social aspect), and that the forms its activity takes depend on the historical dynamics within which it is situated: what is its future trajectory, what contradictions must it resolve (this is the historical aspect).
To understand what happened on September 10 and in the days leading up to it, we must answer a series of questions. The first concerns the social composition of the movement: who, exactly, took to the streets on Wednesday, September 10? The usual answer to this question is “the left-leaning public." But who is this public? What place does it occupy in the relations of production, and what is its relationship to other classes? We can offer a tentative answer to this first question: the left-leaning public is largely composed of what might be called the managerial middle classes (educators, special education teachers, workers in the cultural and nonprofit sectors, etc., as well as students training for these professions). Let us make it clear right now that this definition does not say much on its own, and that it will need to be refined later.
Be that as it may, this answer raises a new question: What is it about the objective class situation of those who have mobilized that compels them to act politically—and why now? What are the contradictions, in the current historical context, that threaten the middle-management classes to such an extent that they have been in a state of constant political mobilization for several years now? We believe that the source of this phenomenon lies in the new social conditions imposed on them, to which they are reacting. Finally, a third question arises: what, under these conditions, governs the terms of action, their mode of organization, their slogans, and their tactical choices to these historically situated individuals? Why are these middle classes mobilizing in this specific way and not in some other way? These questions, call for an answer rooted in the objective conditions imposed on the actors.
In short, political activity must be embedded within the broader class struggle. Class analysis is not merely a theoretical whim or a superfluous sociological exercise: it is these realities that largely determine the nature of political struggles—and thus the limits within which they are waged. Historical conditions act as a powerful driving force, shaping the content of all class activity. By ignoring this, we condemn any attempt at analysis to becoming nothing more than somewhat futile chatter.
Dealing with the End of the Working Class era
To understand the current situation, we need to take a step back into the past and analyze the conditions under which these middle-management classes emerged and developed during the 1980s. By analyzing the historical context of their emergence, we can better understand their role and political subjectivity. When the Socialists came to power in 1981, the Keynesian-Fordist model of production was in crisis. This model was based on the centrality of the working class in the production process and the gradual imposition of so-called “scientific” work organization in the factory. Starting in the late 1970s, signs that this model was running out of steam began to multiply, and the first factory closures forced political elites to find a way out of the crisis by forging a new productive model. They then gradually shifted their focus to the development of a high-tech industry, producing goods with high added value and requiring a highly skilled workforce.
Logically, as the industrial order broke down, the management and retraining of the working class took on a crucial importance. Thus, budgets allocated to education, social work, integration, and cultural mediation rose sharply, leading to the gradual emergence of a new managerial class situated outside the sphere of production (in contrast, therefore, to the traditional managerial classes: engineers, foremen, managers, etc.): special education teachers, teachers, cultural mediators, social workers, and the nonprofit sector became a pillar of the developing new social order. Indeed, these groups managed to make themselves indispensable in the 1980s for two reasons. On one hand, they helped manage the social effects of deindustrialization, mass unemployment, and the decline of the working-class world. Furthermore, they became the pillar of a political and social project aimed at replacing the old factory working class with a new one—better educated, better paid, and more compliant, because it has been socialized by these new management professionals. This project also holds the promise of a new social compromise: in exchange for their political marginalization, workers are offered new prospects for social advancement through education.
But in reality, these management professionals are quickly tasked with the menial job of directing the young workforce toward jobs in the new service sectors, unskilled positions paid at the minimum wage. Their role as intermediaries between capital and the workforce forms the basis of their political activity: they seek to make themselves indispensable by presenting the welfare state (that is, in fact, themselves) as a shield against the violence of the market and as a vehicle for integration. As we shall see, this political activity will become increasingly insistent as the restructuring of class relations renders them more and more superfluous.
Countering the Decline
Numerically and politically powerful in the 1980s and 1990s, the managerial classes began to experience a significant decline starting in the 2000s. Their rise, as we have seen, can be explained by the dual need to manage the shift away from the Keynesian-Fordist model and to build a new social order based on education. But at the turn of the 2000s, this project came up against the reality of class relations. Capitalists, in fact, had a greater need for unskilled workers in the service sector and fewer skilled workers in industry³: discourses on the importance of education, the need for reindustrialization, or the promises of digital technology were increasingly out of step with reality. In this context, the management of the workforce relied less and less on support and more on coercion and control. Political elites, constrained by the new productive order being imposed upon them, initiated—beginning in the late 2000s—a restructuring movement in the social management sectors, which involved budget cuts and the imposition of new work methods. The loss of centrality of the managerial classes in the management of social relations has led to their gradual dismantling by the state. Thus, for these sectors—and in particular for what constitutes their original core, namely public education and cultural mediation—we observe a decline in staff numbers, a reduction in financial resources, and a gradual distancing from the center of political power.
This translates, at both the national and local levels, into a weakening of the bargaining power of the managerial classes against those in power: teachers’ unions are looked down upon, local governments cut subsidies to nonprofit organizations year after year, and protests in the cultural sector are largely ignored. More broadly, the political ground that artists, teachers, and nonprofit activists had managed to gain in the 1980s is gradually eroding. The middle managerial classes therefore denounce the lack of financial resources allocated to them but, above all, feel a clear indifference on the part of political authorities toward them. It is in this context that citizen-led movements focusing on the need for democracy emerged, such as Nuit Debout in 2016 or the visceral reaction to the use of Article 49.3 to push through the pension reform in 2023. The development of a project for democratic renewal, driven by this social stratum (4) served as a tool for them to reclaim their lost political centrality. The denunciation of the malfunctions of the Fifth Republic or of the increased administrative strictness toward associations can thus be analyzed as a response to their economic and political marginalization— having previously succeeded in securing a central place in the productive order that emerged in the 1980s.
The sense of urgency driving them to regain power, put them at odds with their traditional allies—namely the labor unions, which were still largely focused on defending manual laborers and old industrial strongholds. Indeed, while the decline of the managerial classes accelerated in the 2010s, the French union model—admittedly involving “pressure tactics” in the streets or on picket lines, but primarily based on negotiations with the government and employers—is a long-term process and has changed relatively little over the past few decades. This disconnect between union practices and the anxiety of the managerial classes has led the latter to attempt a breakaway from the unions, both in their slogans and actions. In seeking to wage struggles independently of the unions—or even against them—the managerial classes sometimes demonstrate their strength (as in 2016, with the emergence of the “front-line marchers”), but far more often realize their weakness, whenever they notice their inability to bring the country to a standstill without the support of refinery or railroad workers. Weakened and out of step with the material and political interests of their former allies, they are thus prone to radicalization.
The “September 10 Movement,” or the Story of an Illusion
This dynamic implies the need to find other class allies to break out of political isolation. The temptation for political apparatuses—as well as for various collectives and individuals “in struggle”—to align themselves with other class struggles is therefore an irresistible necessity, driving them to attempt to construct a new, artificial political subject that transcends its own class boundaries. This construction goes hand in hand with the desire to produce a project of an interclassist nature but one dominated by the middle management class. We will limit ourselves here to two examples. The first concerns La France Insoumise, which, unlike other left-wing organizations, is clear-eyed about the need to bring the middle classes out of their isolation. The strategy of the “voting reservoir in the poor neighborhoods” is the most cynical illustration of this. But this cynicism is not confined to political and union apparatuses. During the Yellow Vests movement, we saw how this same left-wing audience effectively managed to “structure” the movement’s tail end, in terms of both demands and organization. Thus, the adoption of a political program that broadly mirrors that of traditional left-wing parties, as well as the organization of assemblies in city centers, constitutes the distinctive hallmark of this middle class’s failed mobilizations. Once the Yellow Vests movement had been managed, it could quietly fade away.
But these attempts at convergence (outside the unions, that is) always end in failure, returning the middle management classes to their initial isolation. This isolation, coupled with the urgent need to fight budgets that are increasingly unfavorable to them, makes the need to find new allies ever more pressing. Thus, in August 2025, when the first calls for September 10 appeared on social media, their unclear origin fostered a political illusion: somewhere out there, a people was already fighting, and they, too, wanted Bayrou’s downfall. Middle-class activists who join the movement’s organization do so on the basis of a misunderstanding, since in fact they are the only ones actively working to bring it into existence. Thus, the leftist masses hallucinate, seeing in an imaginary “people” the reflection of their own class activity.
From an organizational standpoint as well, any analysis of the September 10 movement must be grounded in the historical context. The isolation of the managerial classes and their sense of urgency (action must be taken now and as radically as possible) determine how they structure the movement. From this perspective, the general assemblies (AGs) serve a dual purpose. First, because of their formally open nature, they foster the illusion of massive, cross-class participation in the movement they are preparing. Second, by promoting self-organization, these AGs provide a means to break free from the control of union leaderships and thus pursue their own class objectives. In short, all of this aims to challenge the parties—but above all the unions—for hegemony over “left-wing” mobilizations, and to politically impose the demands of the middle class.
In short, the movement is entirely structured politically by the managerial classes. But this immense effort functions only on the basis of an illusion that fuels the organizational machine: the idea that, elsewhere, “a people”—composed of other class segments—is organizing itself and is ready to join the September 10 movement to overturn the status quo alongside the middle classes. If the middle classes are telling themselves these stories, it is because they no longer have a choice; they are forced to perpetuate this misunderstanding in order to continue hoping for victory. But these illusions were brutally shattered on the 10th. They find themselves alone for the first time in a long while and in a politically disadvantageous position: the middle class is isolated and weakened; it can no longer exert political influence.
The Setbacks of (Middle) Class Autonomy
The first aspect of the weakness of the managerial classes is tactical. In the most recent phase of their struggle, they actually have a limited number of tools at their disposal due to their specific position within the productive apparatus. Tasked with training, guiding, and channeling the low-skilled workforce, they are, as has been noted, outside the productive sphere. The possibility of “shutting down the economy” through a strike therefore does not exist for them, leaving them only the option of blocking the flow of goods: while they cannot halt the production of goods, they can slow down their circulation. In this sense, the emphasis on blocking, far from constituting a particularly relevant tactical breakthrough, is more a matter of default. Unfortunately, unless they are extremely numerous—which is very rarely the case—or act in conjunction with workers who are actually capable of blocking production—which sometimes happens—left-wing activists have a very hard time ensuring that their blockades produce anything more than a symbolic effect. These incidents—whether they target a ring road, a shopping mall, a logistics warehouse, or a train station—last no more than a few dozen minutes, and their impact on economic activity is virtually nil. And that is exactly what happened on Wednesday, September 10.
On that day—as is often the case on every day of mobilization—the brief morning blockades were followed by gatherings in city centers, which quickly turned into spontaneous marches that continued for several hours. These spontaneous demonstrations are, in a way, an attempt to continue the morning blockades in a different form: the very act of wandering aimlessly is an end in itself for the demonstrators, guided by the vague idea that the accumulation of such demonstrations will eventually block traffic arteries and disrupt the operations of local businesses. But here again, the effects are generally limited to a few minutes. Thus, the street—far from being a space where a power struggle can be waged—turns out instead to be a default outlet for a class that has lost any possibility of exerting political influence. In short, the modes of action adopted by left-wing activists on September 10 primarily revealed their inability to wage a genuine political struggle.
On September 10, as noted, the mobilization stayed limited to managerial classes, with the disappointing political results that have been described. Since their attempt to break free from the unions had failed, they quickly put September 10 behind them and staked everything on a new inter-union strike day on September 18, hoping that this time there would be enough people and that, with the support of union members, it would be possible to bring the country to a standstill. The shifting of hopes to September 18 clearly shows that the middle classes’ attempt to act alone—by mobilizing their own tools and methods of action—has above all illustrated the dilemma facing the managerial classes: a seesaw between attempts at self-empowerment and a return to the constraints of union mobilization. There is a recurring desire to align with the Yellow Vests movement or the riots in support of Nahel. But what many pretend not to see is that whenever political and social balances have been threatened by class-based movements, the managerial classes have either been excluded from them or have remained a minority within them.
Conclusion - A Deep and Tremendous Crack
Given the situation in which they find themselves, the managerial classes will surely be driven to pursue their radicalization and will continue to issue unrealistic calls that appeal only to those who still have good reasons to believe in them. The ready-made organizational responses following this failed sequence of events on September 10 reduce the problem to purely tactical considerations. However, tactical issues are overdetermined by class relations; what happened in the assemblies and in the streets is merely the expression of a class struggle: that of the managerial classes to regain political hegemony. This struggle is also necessarily waged against other segments of classes that share neither the same interests nor the same aspirations.
Thus, far from being limited to simply defending the welfare state, the class struggles waged by workers in de-skilled sectors involve broader issues, which we can only touch upon in this conclusion. Let us briefly note, then, that the emergence of a new unskilled labor force in the service sector, while it has helped lower the overall price of labor, has created at least as many contradictions for capital as it has resolved. As for the managerial classes, as we have said, the process is clear-cut: their evident decline is bound to continue. As for low-skilled workers, the process is more complex. Capital seeks both to de-skill the labor—by creating a mass of interchangeable workers confined to performing repetitive tasks in service occupations—in order to lower the overall price of labor. On the other hand, it must ensure the availability of this labor force that rejects its condition. It is this contradiction that applies specifically to de-skilled workers—and not merely within the company: it also affects schools, neighborhoods, and families. However, these spaces of confrontation themselves generate tensions that, in turn, require regulatory intervention by the state. Such is the nature of class struggle; it does not need to be explicitly identified as such to exert a subtle influence on social balances. It is within the context of this development that open and significant class struggles emerge. Thus, the Yellow Vests movement and the riots following Nahel’s death mark the development of new antagonisms driven by the de-skilled segments of the workforce. The study of these class relations is the subject of a separate, as yet unpublished text, of which we have been able to provide only a far too brief summary.
We need to change the way we think about political issues. Rather than limiting ourselves to acting within the specific political framework set by each movement, we must adopt a perspective that takes into account the classes and their historical trajectory. This is because class contradictions are not limited solely to the scope of a single movement—or even a series of movements that could be isolated from one another. On the contrary, they unfold over the long term, and sometimes much more quietly. To view class struggles through a narrow lens, limiting oneself to the moments when they are most visible, is to condemn oneself to focusing only on those that make the most noise—even when they are ultimately futile. For this reason, we must look beyond the struggles of the middle class and seek to analyze the material and concrete issues that underpin other class struggles. Regardless of the practical outcomes these analyses may yield, they are an indispensable step in supporting the development of these struggles.
Therefore, we must acknowledge the incompatibility between the struggles of the managerial classes and those of unskilled workers. In our view, this incompatibility requires us to make a choice: either continue to believe that we can have it both ways by dreaming of a hypothetical interclass convergence, or acknowledge the fundamental antagonism between two lines of development in the class struggle.
In this case, the conclusions that such a text imposes are necessarily context-specific. In other words, there is no universal, external perspective on the class struggle—only class-based perspectives. We must therefore attempt to neutralize the perspective of the managerial classes regarding September 10. If we look at the events from the perspective of unskilled workers, one fact immediately stands out: they refused, once again, to participate in a mobilization with which they had nothing in common—neither the slogans nor the organizational methods. They preferred to watch the movement die out on its own rather than invest themselves in it, even minimally. Increasingly, their political autonomy has become an indispensable condition for them to take action. In fact, each of their specific mobilizations is accompanied by an attempt to assert a class-based activity that is resolutely anti-interclassist.
From this perspective, the political neutralization of the managerial classes is an unpredictable goal in the medium term. Everywhere, these classes act as a source of confusion and political disintegration. September 10 is the most striking illustration of this. To take action, unskilled workers will therefore have to create political forms that allow them to wage class struggles independently of—and even against—the segments of class that constantly court them.
