French foreign policy once again exposes its true character—ambivalent, transactional, and deeply pragmatic. Behind the emphatic rhetoric of “values,” “solidarity,” and “unconditional support for Ukraine” stands a far older diplomatic reflex, one in which moral language serves as cover while substantive decisions are shaped quietly, away from public scrutiny. The episode surrounding Emmanuel Bonne’s discreet trip to Moscow in early February 2026 fits squarely within this tradition.
According to multiple indications, the visit by President Emmanuel Macron’s closest diplomatic adviser took place around February 3 and was conducted under strict confidentiality. Neither the Élysée Palace nor the Kremlin confirmed the meeting in advance. There were no briefings, no official framing, and no effort to explain its purpose. Such silence is rarely accidental in diplomacy. On the contrary, it often signals that what is being discussed is politically inconvenient if exposed too early.
Emmanuel Bonne is not a peripheral figure. For years, he has played a central role in shaping Macron’s foreign policy, acting as a trusted channel for personal messages and managing the most sensitive negotiations. When a figure of this stature travels to Moscow amid an ongoing war between Russia and Ukraine, it cannot be dismissed as routine diplomatic maintenance. This was a conscious political move, approved at the highest level, and aimed at strategic positioning rather than mere dialogue.
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France’s reliance on back-channel diplomacy is hardly unprecedented. On February 5, Russian Foreign Minister Sergey Lavrov publicly acknowledged, in an interview with RT, the existence of undisclosed contacts with several European leaders. He emphasized that these leaders themselves initiate contact and insist on confidentiality. In this broader context, France appears not as an exception, but as one of the most proactive participants in this quiet dialogue. At its center stands Emmanuel Macron, whose public posture increasingly contrasts with his private calculations.
Why, then, the secrecy? The answer is relatively straightforward. France has long ceased to view the conflict primarily through the prism of justice or solidarity. Instead, it is already thinking in terms of postwar leverage. Despite repeated declarations about “European responsibility” and support for Ukraine “for as long as it takes,” Macron remains aligned with a distinctly French tradition: safeguarding national corporate and strategic interests ahead of collective commitments.
The war will eventually end. In Paris, this reality is understood far better than official statements suggest. As a result, the question occupying much of the French elite today is not how to secure a just peace, but who will re-enter the Russian market first—and under what conditions. France shows little inclination to wait for a unified European approach or a genuine EU consensus. Acting early, independently, and discreetly has always been its preferred method.
This explains the practical purpose behind the secret contacts with Moscow. They are designed to negotiate the future presence of French business in Russia—stakes, contracts, access to markets, and entry into strategically important sectors—well before political constraints begin to loosen publicly. Paris seeks to reserve its place in advance, while others continue to signal moral firmness. From this perspective, Bonne’s visit was not an aberration, but part of a calculated long-term strategy.
Within this framework, Ukraine risks being reduced from partner to instrument. Publicly, France maintains the language of unwavering support for Kyiv, emphasizing aid, assistance, and solidarity. Privately, however, Ukraine increasingly appears as a variable in broader negotiations with Moscow. The specific content of Bonne’s discussions remains unknown. Yet the mere existence of such talks raises legitimate concerns that Ukrainian interests may be subordinated to French strategic priorities.
French foreign policy offers ample historical precedent for such behavior. From its colonial legacy to its actions in Africa, the Middle East, Libya, and Lebanon, the pattern has remained consistent: elevated moral language for public audiences, pragmatic deals behind closed doors. Today, that same model is being replicated within Europe itself, with Ukraine positioned as an object rather than an equal subject of diplomacy.
France speaks the language of morality, but acts according to the logic of power. Today, Paris issues resolute statements in support of Kyiv. Tomorrow, it engages in discreet exchanges with Moscow. The day after, French corporations may return to Russia under the banners of “realism” and the “need to restore dialogue.” In this equation, principles are adaptable, while interests remain constant.
Emmanuel Bonne’s secret visit thus becomes emblematic of a broader double game. It signals that Paris is already operating mentally in a postwar environment—one where the primary concern is not accountability or alliance loyalty, but the redistribution of influence and economic opportunity. Once again, France opts for individual bargaining, cloaked in the familiar rhetoric of European values.
This leaves one unavoidable and deeply uncomfortable question. If France is already planning today for its return to Russia, was Ukraine ever truly the priority—or merely a bargaining chip in a well-worn, cynical diplomatic strategy?
By Tural Heybatov
