Donald Trump’s latest broadside against conservative provocateur Candace Owens took a somewhat unexpected turn when it detoured into fulsome praise of Brigitte Macron.
In a pugilistic Truth Social post, Trump mocked Owens for spreading conspiracy theories about the French first lady but went further, sharply contrasting both her credibility and appearance against “crazy” Owens.
It was a striking tonal shift from a president who has recently used Brigitte as a punchline in his feud with French President Emmanuel Macron over the war with Iran.
The episode offers a revealing glimpse into how Trump weaponizes personal relationships—be it for flattery or mockery—as instruments of politics.
A Compliment With Purpose
On its face, Trump’s attack on Owens was about intra‑MAGA discipline amid an unfurling civil war within the movement.
Owens has emerged as a sharp critic of Trump’s war with Iran, and her long‑running false claims about Brigitte Macron’s sex have drawn a defamation lawsuit from the French first lady.
In slapping Owens down publicly—calling her “crazy” while praising Brigitte—Trump was policing the boundaries of acceptable dissent against him and punching what may turn out to be an expensive bruise.
Calling Owens “Crazy,” Trump said she “accuses the Highly Respected First Lady of France of being a man, when she is not, and will hopefully win lots of money in the ongoing lawsuit.”
“Actually, to me, the First Lady of France is a far more beautiful woman than Candace, in fact, it’s not even close!” Trump continued.
But the praise lands awkwardly. Just days earlier, Trump had joked to Republicans in Congress that the French president’s wife “treats him extremely badly” as he criticized France for refusing to join U.S. military operations against Iran.
He jested that President Macron was “still recovering from the right to the jaw” after an apparent slap delivered by his wife and caught on camera during an official trip to Vietnam last year.
The juxtaposition was classic Trump: Brigitte Macron as both shield and cudgel, deployed depending on the political target. Long-term consistency mattered less than short-term utility.
It also came just days after first lady Melania Trump had warmly hosted Brigitte Macron, along with other leaders’ spouses, for a summit on educating children about advanced technology.
France has also notified the White House that it is planning an invitation for Trump to a lavish dinner at Versailles after the G7 summit in June and ahead of historic July 4 celebrations, hoping to secure the president’s attendance at the global gathering.
Emmanuel Macron’s response to Trump was brief, calling the remarks “not elegant, nor up to standard” and saying they did not merit any response.
The softness toward Brigitte this time around may have served a secondary purpose.
Trump’s bombastic criticism of NATO allies, and insistence that the U.S. doesn’t need them anyway, belies his real desire for them to join the Iran war and commit to helping him reopen the Strait of Hormuz.
The warm words can be seen, perhaps, as his attempt to undo some of the diplomatic damage caused by his joke about the Macrons, and warm up relations between the two presidents at a pivotal moment in the Iran crisis.
His words, Trump might hope, will be whispered like sweet nothings in a presidential briefing at the Élysée Palace.
Complimenting a foreign leader’s spouse costs Trump little, but it creates the impression—at least momentarily—of personal goodwill in an otherwise fractious relationship.
France, Iran, and the Limits of Alliance
The tensions over Iran are painful. France has been among the most vocal Western powers resisting Trump’s calls for allied military participation in reopening the Strait of Hormuz during active hostilities.
In March, Macron stated flatly that France “will never take part in operations to open or liberate the Strait of Hormuz in the current context,” directly contradicting Trump’s public suggestion that Paris was on board.
At the same time, France has been quietly positioning itself as a post‑conflict stabilizer.
According to Reuters, French military leaders have approached roughly 35 countries about a potential multinational mission to secure freedom of navigation in Hormuz once the war ends.
The effort is strictly defensive and contingent on deescalation, but it underscores a strategic gap between Washington and Paris. Trump wanted muscle yesterday; France is planning for tomorrow.
The divide has clearly irritated the White House. Trump’s recent mockery of Macron suggests he sees European restraint less as prudence than as ingratitude for U.S. commitments to them, especially through the NATO alliance.
In that context, Brigitte Macron becomes a rhetorical proxy: praised when Trump wants to appear magnanimous, mocked when he wants to underline what he sees as French weakness.
Personal Politics as Foreign Policy
None of this means Trump has suddenly become a champion of French feminism, or that his praise for Brigitte Macron signals a much bigger thaw in U.S.‑France relations.
Rather, it highlights how Trump collapses the personal and the political into a single register. Spouses, slights, lawsuits, and naval deployments all become interchangeable pieces on the same board.
For Macron, the strategy is risky but familiar: endure the theatrics, hold the policy line. This isn’t his first rodeo with Trump, who has ruthlessly mocked Macron before, including mimicking his French accent and making light of French suffering in WWII.
France’s refusal to join combat operations has been consistent, even as it prepares to help secure Hormuz after the shooting stops. Trump, meanwhile, appears content to mix flattery and ridicule as circumstances demand.
In that sense, Brigitte Macron’s sudden elevation to “highly respected” status says less about her, and more about the unusual ways personal chemistry, grievance politics and alliance management intersect in Trump’s playbook.
But French cynicism is quick to see through attempts to passer de la pommade.
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