he hopes others do the same. ‘I hope other people start to support the movement, the ideas that we talk about here,’ he says, sitting in the sunroom of his house in a quiet leafy suburb of Sydney, with his two young sons and his wife, Fiona.” It wasn’t long after his inauguration in 2013 that Macron’s pro-business leanings clashed with his populist image and his government fell into near-civil war with the French left. The Economist wrote in April 2017: “Mr Macron is a centrist in the European sense, not a Republican (as used to be said of Bill Clinton), but his centrist politics in the American sense is rather to the right of Hillary Clinton and of the European centre-left. And he comes with the baggage of a cosseted French elite. Mr Macron and his friends were raised by their single mother after their father died when they were young.” During the campaign last year, Macron was criticized for going to the World Economic Forum in Davos, Switzerland, and trying to convince foreign business leaders that he was a “reformist” on the road to becoming president of France. “That’s the sort of thing I heard, ‘Oh, he’s a little too friendly with billionaires, he’s a little too friendly with business,’” says Macron, speaking with a slight frown. “And, you know, they don’t even ask who those billionaires are. They just say, ‘He’s too close to business.’ Which is what my adversaries and competitors do. But anyway, that’s all I hear. But it doesn’t bother me.” Macron also had to fend off allegations of being a neoliberal who was planning to slash workers’ rights to increase competitiveness for France, thus bringing a sort of French Trumpism to France. “If you talk about what Europe is to become in the coming decades, this is an unavoidable debate. The answer cannot be to simply go back to deregulation, liberalisation, less social protection, less equality — that’s just what the other guys do.” Now, as he was about to finish his presidential campaign with a win, Macron was asked by the Economist about his pro-business cred. “I know what a difficult conversation it is in many countries, in Europe especially, about the word ‘reform,’” he says. “And I know I’m asking people to accept a lot. … But I don’t think we can do it in the other way, because it wouldn’t work.” The Paris bureau chief of Reuters asks Macron what his favorite word is. “The word that I use the most is “humble” — just “humble.” Because it’s not about me. It’s not about me! I’m just there to help. It’s the same with reform. Reform is not about me, it’s about the people. It’s about helping the people.” Macron’s first press conference as president, at Elysee Palace in Paris, comes to an end, and Macron turns back to the table where he is seated, along with several other journalists. He looks back at the reporters and smiles. He has finished one of his greatest challenges as a politician — talking. Macron then stands and walks toward the door, but before he leaves, he turns around for one last word. “There’s no great leader, there’s no great power, there’s no country in the world that can be saved by itself,” says Macron. “The world is now a space where we can’t see anyone who would want to save the world by himself.” Macron then raises his hands, and like some other world leaders, the French president does what so many others do — a one-handed “V” for victory sign. He leaves the palace. But at the same time, he’s trying to show his constituents that France can actually save itself. “When you’re young, you think that you are destined to become a leader in your society and on the world stage, but then you realize that, well, maybe you’re not going to do it, maybe you’re not that talented. … It wasn’t something I ever thought I would do.” “But a lot of young people don’t see the point of being an MP,” Macron says. “It’s not what people expect of them.” “But I think it’s actually the opposite. Most MPs are not good. We have an amazing political system where you get elected at a young age, it’s sort of natural, because, well, it’s natural for people to get disillusioned. And you’re basically an MP until you retire at 65. And all politicians go there. But it’s not good for society. It’s not good for the country.” Still, Macron does not regret becoming an MP. “It was exactly what I needed. Because when I was a student and first a philosophy major, I thought I would be a politician, then a student leader, then a public servant, but then it was clear that I would become an MP. I was going to do this for the rest of my life. Because I know it’s not what I can do — it’s not as interesting as what I want to do — but what I’m good at. And the problem is I had to start somewhere.” Macron is on an eight-month tour of the world — a sort of diplomatic and spiritual pilgrimage. He’s trying to leave his imprint on the world stage. “I have always been a public servant — that’s where I feel like I’m doing my part. I need to find a way to share with the public what we are doing.” Macron pauses, just as his last interview begins. He’s tired. As he had done throughout the day, he’d answered so many questions, more than a few times. He sits at the edge of the bed in the small room where he stays in the Elysee Palace. “You know,” he says with a laugh, “if you work for three months with the same person in the government, then it can be quite tough. It’s a little difficult for those people