Why is mocking Brigitte Macron a crime?

Ten people have gone on trial in Paris accused of harassing France’s First Lady, Brigitte Macron, online. The defendants, eight men and two women aged between 41 and 60, are charged with “moral harassment by electronic means” and making a false claim that she was born a man by the name of Jean-Michel Trogneux. Prosecutors say their posts, many of which mocked her marriage to the President and repeated the rumor about her gender, amounted to targeted abuse. In closing, prosecutors requested suspended sentences. The defendants deny wrongdoing.

The case stems from a complaint filed by Brigitte Macron in 2024, after a theory claiming she was transgender spread widely across French social media. Some of those now on trial shared or commented on videos repeating the rumor. Others posted memes or insults targeting her appearance and marriage. Under France’s criminal code, “moral harassment by electronic means” can lead to up to two years in prison and fines of €30,000. The court is expected to deliver its verdict later this year.

The defendants include a small business owner, an elected local official, a computer technician and a teacher. Their alleged crime was to repost memes or post comments mocking the First Lady to modest online audiences, although some gathered considerable views. None have the resources of the presidential couple. Yet they face criminal conviction and possible prison sentences. In another country, such behavior might earn a temporary suspension from social media, or, more likely, the behavior would simply be ignored. In France, it’s a matter for the tribunal correctionnel.

The rumor about Brigitte Macron first appeared in 2021 in Faits et Documents, a niche newsletter with a tiny circulation edited at the time by Xavier Poussard, a researcher. Its “investigation” claimed, in meticulous detail, that Brigitte Macron was born a man and was in fact the biological father, not the mother, of her three children. The theory goes that Jean-Michel transitioned prior to becoming Macron’s drama teacher when he was 15 and Brigitte was 40. The claim is false as birth records show Brigitte Macron was born female in 1953. Criminalization of the allegations is the real story.

Whatever one thinks of the law, the scale of the vitriol directed at Brigitte Macron has been ugly. Mocking her age and appearance has long been a national sport. Adding fabricated claims about her identity turned it into something darker. Online pile-ons can become a form of mob harassment. Prosecutors portrayed the posts as part of a sustained campaign of humiliation. Brigitte Macron did not attend, but her daughter Tiphaine Auzière told the court that the conspiracy had “devastated” her mother’s health, describing anxiety, insomnia and withdrawal from public life. The judge noted evidence of a “deterioration” in her well-being.

The theory circulated on fringe French websites before migrating into mainstream social media. Poussard later expanded his claims into a book, Becoming Brigitte, which Candace Owens then promoted to a global audience. Owens said she would “stake [her] entire professional reputation on the fact that Brigitte Macron… is in fact a man.” When the Macrons filed their defamation suit in Delaware in July 2025, they accused Owens of “disregard[ing] all credible evidence” that Mrs Macron was born female, and of using the claim to monetize outrage. Owens replied that the lawsuit itself was proof that the allegations are true: “If you need any more evidence that Brigitte Macron is definitely a man, it is just what is happening right now.”

It’s an unpleasant episode, but hardly an exceptional one in the age of social media. Public figures are mocked, insulted and caricatured daily, often far worse than this. Yet in France, ridicule of public figures has a curious way of turning into a matter for the courts. From injure publique to outrage à fonctionnaire, the French state has long confused personal dignity with public order. The Macron presidency, with its high-profile lawsuits, has continued that confusion.

France has always been conflicted about free speech. It celebrates Charlie Hebdo as a national symbol of defiance, yet prosecutes ordinary citizens for lesser acts of mockery. Even in Britain, with its infamous policing of speech, a case like this about a politician would never reach a courtroom. Britain has its own pitfalls, strict libel laws and “defamation tourism” among them. But the British expect their public figures to endure ridicule, whereas the French state tends to police it. Insulting those in power has long been treated as a kind of lèse-majesté, even in the Republic that prides itself on having guillotined its kings. 

There’s also a deeper absurdity here. The very premise of the online attacks is that Brigitte Macron was born a man, and is therefore “trans.” The prosecution’s case rests on factual falsehood, not hostility to trans people, yet the optics are hard to ignore. The state insists on tolerance in principle but reacts with outrage when that same vocabulary brushes too close to power. Either France believes gender identity deserves respect, or it believes that being called trans is defamatory. It cannot have it both ways.

That irony is even sharper given the couple’s record. In 2018, Emmanuel and Brigitte Macron turned the Élysée courtyard into a public dance floor for the Fête de la Musique, inviting queer and transgender performers, including DJ and activist Kiddy Smile, whose troupe vogued on the palace steps in front of the presidential couple. The event, widely promoted by the Élysée itself, was hailed as a symbol of inclusivity. The event has been attacked by the right as a sign of moral decay. Yet seven years later, the same presidency would now appear to treat being called transgender as an insult. The President and First Lady who once posed for photographs with queer dancers are effectively asking the courts to criminalize anyone who implies the First Lady is trans.

For a couple who insist the facts are on their side, the Macrons’ response has been strangely theatrical. Each new lawsuit amplifies the story they want buried. A calm, factual rebuttal would have ended the matter long ago, as would perhaps simply ignoring the rumor entirely, or even a DNA swab test. Instead, the Macrons have turned the allegations into a global courtroom saga that guarantees the rumor endless life.

What makes this case remarkable is not the vulgarity of the posts, the internet is full of that, but the reaction from the Élysée. Brigitte Macron has launched a defamation lawsuit against Candace Owens, while prosecutors pursue these ten individuals in France. For a presidential couple that prides itself on intellect and poise, it’s a surprisingly brittle response.

Does it not occur to the President that the more he and his wife fight the rumor, the more oxygen they give it? Each legal action guarantees another round of headlines and another surge of online curiosity about the very claim they want buried. It’s a textbook case of the Streisand effect, when the attempt to suppress a rumor amplifies it.

None of this is intended to defend the trolls. Their posts are crude, and few deserve sympathy. But public life comes with a price, and the price is mockery. Sometimes politicians are better advised simply to put up with it. The Macrons may win in court. They will not win in silence.