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Leaders of France’s leftwing New Popular Front moved to shore up their new alliance for forthcoming snap elections after it was rocked by a far-left party purge of moderates.

Far-left leader Jean-Luc Mélenchon enraged colleagues and the leaders of other parties late on Friday when he removed several of his critics and proponents of the alliance from his party’s list of candidates.

He included in the list Adrien Quatennens, a protégé and controversial MP from Mélenchon’s France Insoumise — France Unbowed, or LFI — party, who has a conviction for domestic violence, prompting a furious reaction from other NPF leaders.

On Saturday, Mélenchon was defiant about his purge, telling news outlet 20minutes.fr that “political coherence and loyalty in the left’s largest parliamentary group are imperative for governing”.

But on Sunday, Quatennens withdrew his candidacy in what appeared to signal a partial retreat by Mélenchon.

Mélenchon, a deeply polarising politician, suggested he would not insist on becoming prime minister if the left emerged from the election with the most seats. A Mélenchon premiership would be a troubling prospect for the other left parties and many voters.

“If you don’t think I should be prime minister, I won’t,” he told France TV, addressing his NPF comrades.

The creation of a united leftwing front is a crucial development in the run-up to the elections on June 30 and July 7. It could seriously harm the prospects of candidates for Emmanuel Macron’s centrist alliance by making it much harder for them to qualify for the second-round run-off.

The leftwing parties are deeply divided on the economy, EU policy and Ukraine, but have buried their differences to maximise their chances against Marine Le Pen’s far-right Rassemblement National.

They have united behind a joint programme with a radical tax-and-spend agenda, adding to investors’ jitters ahead of the election. Mélenchon said the left’s programme envisaged tax rises worth €123bn a year.

In a sign of the commitment to the new alliance — which spans Eurosceptic far-left populists and pro-EU social democrats — former socialist president François Hollande said he would run for parliament as an NPF candidate.

However, Mélenchon’s purge of his party just hours after the New Popular Front’s campaign launch created serious strains within the alliance. Olivier Faure, the socialist chief, called it “scandalous”.

“It’s totally petty, small of him, settling scores when the challenge now is to prevent the far right from taking power,” Alexis Corbières, one of the MPs removed as a candidate, told France Info.

Another, Raquel Garrido, posted on X: “Shame on you, Jean-Luc Mélenchon. This is sabotage. But I can do better. We can do better.”

Political parties are scrambling to assemble their lists of candidates for the election before the deadline of 18.00 on Sunday.

Hollande’s candidacy in his home region of Corrèze took his colleagues by surprise. If elected, Hollande would become only the second former head of state to take a seat in the National Assembly since the start of France’s fifth republic. The other was Valéry Giscard d’Estaing.

Hollande said it was “an exceptional decision for an exceptional situation”, given that the far right is closer to power than at any moment since France’s liberation from Nazi occupation in 1945.

To salvage as many seats as possible, Macron’s centrist alliance is trying to strike reciprocal local deals not to stand against each other with centre-right candidates that refuse to back RN.

The centre-right Les Républicains party is also in disarray after its leader Éric Ciotti unilaterally agreed an alliance with the far right

Furious colleagues on the party’s executive unanimously voted to expel Ciotti, but the decision was overturned by a Paris court on Friday night, leaving it unclear who was in charge of the list of candidates.

Sporting a “Pretty Girls Vote Republican” baseball cap and several buttons, including one reading “Gun Rights are Women’s Rights,” Lauren Kerby was surprised to be asked who she plans to vote for in the fall.

“Obviously Trump,” she said with a laugh. “I came here for a reason.”

Here is the ‘People’s Convention’, run by Turning Point Action, the advocacy wing of Turning Point USA, one of the largest national organizations focused on engaging students on conservative issues.

Turning Point – which rose out of concerns about free speech on college campuses, has grown into an unapologetically pro-Trump machine, focused on organizing for the former president ahead of the 2024 election.

It hosts events like these, attracting voters like Kerby and hundreds of others like her who want to party, young conservative style.

And this is certainly a Trump show. At the Huntington Place Convention Center in downtown Detroit, a bejeweled presidential seal with Trump’s face in the center rests on the hood of a gold-painted Mercedes-Benz. At a nearby booth among dozens, vendors are selling “America First” cowboy hats and shirts reading, “Voting Convicted Felon, 2024.”

The festivities this year come as Turning Point Action works to significantly expand its organizing presence in key swing states ahead of the general election, including Michigan, home to this year’s conference.

Just five months out, enthusiasm for Trump is high among younger attendees. NPR spoke with more than a dozen voters under 30, who remain committed to Trump, motivated by to vote for him largely because of his isolationist ideas and focus on the economy and immigration.

Supporters cheer as Republican presidential candidate former President Donald Trump speaks at the “People’s Convention” of Turning Point Action Saturday, June 15, 2024 in Detroit. (AP Photo/Carlos Osorio)

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Their unwavering support stands in contrast to sentiment of many younger Democratic voters, who remain unsure or unenthused about backing President Biden again.

Trump took the stage Saturday night as the event headliner. He ticked through his proposed second-term agenda and criticized Biden’s record, making little mention of the youth-focused nature of the event, outside of publicly thanking Turning Point founder and longtime supporter, Charlie Kirk, who is a millennial.

“[Kirk’s] got his army of young people,” Trump said. “These are young patriots. They don’t want to see… what’s been happening in our country.”

The former president’s remarks came after two days of speeches from conservative firebrands and high-profile Trump allies, including Republican National Committee co-chair and Trump’s daughter in law Lara Trump, former presidential candidate Vivek Ramaswamy, Rep. Matt Gaetz (R-Fla.) and Rep. Marjorie Taylor Greene (R-Ga.)

This year’s conference also comes just over two weeks after a New York jury found Trump guilty of criminal charges, a decision that could negatively impact his chances with younger voters. The latest Harvard youth poll, published in March, found a potential guilty verdict increased Biden’s lead by 10 percentage points among young Americans overall.

Much like their unwavering support in the election, though, voters at the event are unphased by his conviction. His mugshot is displayed on the posters and t-shirts of attendees.

To 20-year-old James Hart, the verdict has little effect.

“I don’t really think, at this point, anyone’s feelings changed. I think everyone knows who they’re going to vote for. We know Trump. Trust me – we know Joe Biden,” said Hart. “We know their policy. We know how they’re going to act. And I trust Trump.”

Where young conservatives stand

For Kerby from Berkeley, Mich., supporting Trump partially stems from his push for isolationism, including limiting U.S. aid to Ukraine in its war with Russia.

“He’s focused on what’s happening here,” she said, pointing instead to Trump’s focus on reducing illegal immigration.

“Not saying that other places don’t matter, but we should matter first,” Kerby’s friend, Elaina Luca, 21, added. “When you’re in a family, you make sure that your family is okay first.”

Luca is also backing Trump. As a mom with two young kids, she’s most concerned about rising prices.

“When I drive around and see a nice house, I like to look up how much it’s sold for,” she explained. “In today’s economy, it’s like, ‘Oh, wow, how did these people even afford that? …And it’s like, ‘Oh no, they bought it in 2012 for like $150,000 and now it’s worth like $1 million.”

“How am I supposed to get a house to raise my children to live in?” she wondered aloud, “I don’t want to pay for a house for the rest of my life.”

Turning Point’s 2024 strategy

Former President Donald Trump walks on to the stage to give the keynote address at Turning Point Action’s “The People’s Convention” on Saturday in Detroit, Michigan.

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While Turning Point’s non-profit side has held student conferences for nearly a decade, also sprinkled with appearances from Republican politicians and conservative media figures, this conference marks just the second for Turning Point Action.

The activist network has morphed into a more pronounced political force, planning to ramp up its organizing ground game ahead of the election.

“It’s night and day,” said Turning Point Action spokesman Andrew Kolvet. “Any activities we did, in 2022 for example, in the midterms, was like the Stone Age compared to the level of sophistication and just the resources that we’ve poured into this project to develop it.”

Kolvet is talking about the group’s “Chase the Vote” initiative, a get-out-to-vote campaign focused on reaching low-propensity voters in swing states that launched earlier this spring. Trump recently endorsed the program during a separate Turning Point event in Arizona, another pivotal state in 2024.

Turning Point hopes to raise $100 million to build up on the ground organizing staff and plans to work with the Trump campaign on canvassing – a notable change from past election cycles following new guidance from the Federal Election Commission.

Despite the roots of Turning Point, the program is not solely focused on young voters, though Kolvet said that will always be tied to Turning Point’s work.

Growing up under Trump, now it’s time to vote

Despite enthusiasm for Trump at Turning Point, Republicans face a steep challenge to bringing in more young voters. Voters under 30 have traditionally voted for Democrats andin 2020, Biden won the age group by a 24-point margin.

Plus – young voters tend to be aligned with Democrats on their key issues – notably on abortion access, addressing climate and curbing gun violence. And despite struggling in polling, Biden still maintains a lead with young voters overall in multiple youth polls.

But among some young conservatives, albeit a proportionally smaller group, Trump’s style of Republican politics – once fringe and now mainstream – is overwhelmingly what they want for their political future.

An attendee wears a “Team Trump” cowboy hat as people watch speakers during Turning Point’s “Peoples Convention” on Saturday in Detroit.

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“The pro-Trump, MAGA element definitely appeals more towards young conservatives and young Americans in general,” said 19-year-old Ohio student, Gabe Guidarini, a member of the College Republicans of America. “It actually addresses the problems that they face.”

He argued young people have trouble connecting to “old school Republican rhetoric” focused on cutting taxes and government spending, because they are not able to progress financially. And given the time period Gen Z has grown up during, Trump’s deviation from political norms is appealing, he explained.

James Hart agrees. Though the 20-year-old now lives in Tallahassee, he grew up in Detroit. “I was raised Democrat,” he said.

That is, until 2016, when his family flipped for Trump.

“His personality is what got my family to say. ‘Hey, you know, maybe the Democrats aren’t the greatest,’” he said. “Honesty is the best policy. And up here in the Midwest, we’re honest. We say it like it is. And Trump did that.”

Now, as Hart gets ready to vote for the first time, his mind is made up.

“I think most young people are going after Trump-like candidates,” he said. “We want the fire. We want the passion. We’re tired of the same old, same old. We want bold policy that actually is going to lead with results.”

Don’t even think about Brooklyn. 

That was the golden rule in the late 1950s and early 1960s when the movement of artists into old factories in New York started to become a serious thing. Though Brooklyn had loads of empty industrial space, gallerists simply refused to venture out there. If artists had any hope of selling their work, they had to stay in Manhattan.

“The first time I heard that, I thought, that’s crazy,” says photographer Joshua Charow, who has just published Loft Law, a book about artists who pioneered a new way of living and working. “But it kept being said.”

The revival of desolate, unloved industrial areas by artists is the miracle of modern urban history. By now, the phenomenon is exceedingly familiar, observed in cities across the world. But the story of how it originated and evolved in New York is useful to consider as cities struggle with a stultifying asymmetry: office districts depleted by remote work while residential prices soar beyond the reach of anyone whose aspirations are not fixated on wealth. Where will the dynamism we want and expect from cities come from?

The original Cinderella neighbourhood is a rectilinear chunk of downtown Manhattan, bound by Houston Street to the north and Canal Street to the south. Around the time of America’s civil war, this was the bustling heart of New York, filled with fashionable merchants and workshops, as well as a robust confluence of brothels. The tight cluster of five- and six-storey cast-iron buildings created what architecture critic Michael Sorkin described as “a sense of enclosure and texture much like streets in Paris”. 

If that sounds like a place to be treasured for all time, well, New York had no patience for such niceties as it plunged into the 20th century. It had a new subway that scattered people and commerce. The wealthy migrated to luxurious towers that formed a necklace around Central Park, while manufacturers relocated to larger facilities in outlying areas.

New York’s little piece of Paris, which lacked even a proper name, was referred to derisively as “the Valley”, or “Hell’s Hundred Acres” because of the frequency of fires, fell into disrepute and was taken over by garment sweatshops and purveyors of rags and machine parts. Even the brothels left for classier environs.

In 1959, when New York’s influential planning tsar Robert Moses formally submitted his plan for the 10-lane, elevated Lower Manhattan Expressway — slashing across the area’s once-majestic Broome Street — he expected it to be embraced as an unparalleled symbol of progress. Mobility was the essence of the modern city.

What Moses did not know, or at the very least discounted as something worthy of his attention, was that a sizeable contingent of artists was filtering into the surrounding neighbourhood, attracted by big raw space that could be bought or rented for next to nothing.

The cast-iron buildings so admired today were filthy wrecks. Zoning restrictions made it illegal to live there and only freaks would think to do so anyway. There were no kitchens; the plumbing, heating and electricity were antediluvian. Whatever needed doing you had to do yourself. But these artists were not timid souls raised in the suburbs. They were not afraid to get their hands dirty.

One galvanising force was a marvellous, Lithuanian-born kook named George Maciunas, the founder of the art movement known as Fluxus, which more or less bridged the gap between Dada and Pop. Maciunas envisioned the rebirth of this doomed area as an alternative, art-first civilisation. George, a documentary from 2018, tells his crazy, remarkable story; he was buddies with Yoko Ono and John Lennon, as well as a major influence on Andy Warhol, but, alas, a terrible civilisation builder.

Slippery about finances and paperwork, he was beaten nearly to death by local goons over a delinquent debt, losing an eye and fading from the scene just as it was gaining critical mass. By that time, the neighbourhood had acquired a catchy name: SoHo, short for south of Houston.

In Loft Law, Charow picks up a parallel strand of the story. While Maciunas championed the ownership of lofts, most artists had to rent, often ending up at war with landlords who tried to throw them out the minute loft living became the slightest bit trendy. For protection, artists turned to elected officials, who would have happily ignored this minor constituency if only they could have.

“One thing politicians really don’t like is being yelled at,” says Michael Kozek, a prominent loft-tenant lawyer who was himself raised in a loft by artist parents. “The artists were tenacious. They made a lot of noise.” In 1982, New York passed the first loft law, establishing guidelines that enabled artists to stay in designated buildings at affordable rents. It has been updated and expanded several times since.

One thing politicians really don’t like is being yelled at. The artists were tenacious. They made a lot of noise

Charow became aware of these special arrangements when, as a teenager growing up in New Jersey, he made regular trips into the city to climb buildings and bridges, and explore abandoned subway tunnels. On one of these illicit adventures, he discovered a bunch of artists living in a former pasta factory. Who were these people, he wondered, and how did they get here? A few years later, when he moved to the city himself, he decided to explore this hidden society of misfits and document their stories. 

Working off a list of addresses he found online, he started pressing buzzers. By this time, of course, the moratorium on Brooklyn had long since lapsed. Artists had infiltrated every old industrial quarter of the city. Most of them had been living there quietly for decades, diligently pursuing their singular visions while the city around them turned into something unrecognisable from the one they had arrived in decades previously.

“I won’t tell you what it cost but it was very cheap,” artist Carolyn Oberst told Charow about the building in the neighbourhood just becoming known as Tribeca that she and her partner Jeff Way moved into in 1975. “We’ll just leave it at that.” There were so few residents in the area that essentials were hard to come by; they relied on wholesalers willing to share their surplus goods. “They would leave wheels of Brie out on the docks, knowing we would come to get it,” said Way. “Everybody would go down and get a wheel.”

In the Brooklyn neighbourhood known as Dumbo (short for Down Under the Manhattan Bridge) Charow found an artist named Curtis Mitchell, who has lived for 40 years in a former ice-cream factory with 36-foot ceilings. “It’s a fantastic place,” Mitchell said. “Cold as hell in the winter and hot as hell in the summer. But I don’t care.” (Legend has it that local artists came up with the name Dumbo because it sounded silly and would deter real-estate agents. Oh well.)

After the Lower Manhattan Expressway was defeated by activists in the late 1960s, SoHo flourished over the next decade as an oasis of 3,000 artists — probably the best time and place to be a creative person as any in recent American history. But as money came flooding in, it turned into one of the most expensive neighbourhoods in the city while the artist population dropped close to zero. Meanwhile, however, close to 2,900 lofts throughout the city remain under protection.

It’s a fantastic place. Cold as hell in the winter and hot as hell in the summer. But I don’t care

What made SoHo’s renaissance possible in the first place was the single-mindedness of the artists, growing antipathy to disruptive public works and eventual political support for a process of neighbourhood regeneration that began organically. To the extent anyone ever had a plan, it was a tiny plan, or more like hundreds of simultaneous experiments, artists making it up as they went along.

This is the phenomenon that seems hardest to rekindle today when you look at problems such as empty office buildings or the lack of affordable housing. How low do economic conditions have to sink before ordinary citizens have the freedom to come up with their own ideas and run with them?

Part of Charow’s inspiration for his book was that he’d find a loft for himself, but he never did. He arrived, he figures, about 10 years too late. The last frontier was in Bushwick, a Brooklyn neighbourhood overwhelmed by crime and disorder as recently as two decades ago. It is now the closest thing New York has to SoHo in the 1970s, with plenty of gallerists, though it surely lacks any semblance of Parisian texture. 

‘Loft Law: The Last of New York City’s Original Artist Lofts’ by Joshua Charow is published by Damiani Books. An exhibition of Charow’s artist portraits, including work by the artists, is at the Westwood Gallery, 262 Bowery, in Manhattan, until June 29

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