Four former employees of Fonderie de Bretagne (FDB) stand talking in the car park in Caudan, in Brittany’s Morbihan department. These meetings have become a ritual since the Lorient commercial court ordered the foundry’s liquidation on 14 October, rejecting three takeover bids. The decision left 244 employees out of work.

“What will become of the factory?” one of them ventures. “A concert hall, with all that space inside!” a colleague jokes. “How long will it take to clean up the pollution and all this mess?” “I don’t know, but it’ll cost a fortune.” A heavy silence falls, scented vapour from an e-cigarette hanging in the air. Then the bitterness erupts: “Twenty-five years breathing in shit, and not even €21,000 in redundancy pay!” In the distance, a security guard patrols the perimeter, looking out for cable thieves and urban explorers drawn to abandoned buildings.

Maël Le Goff, general secretary of the foundry’s CGT union branch, emerges from behind a car. “We’ve just cleared out the union office. Sixty years of history in the bin,” he says bitterly. “We’re trying to take in the news of the liquidation. After six years of struggle, what a waste.” The employees’ average age is 49. Finding another job in the same industry around Lorient will be difficult. Their sombre faces reflect the burden of mortgages to repay and families to feed.

Where next for the workers?

“Under the scheme for workers exposed to asbestos, I can retire early at 58. But I still have three years to bridge,” says Éric Blanchier, who has worked at the foundry for 34 years. An elected CGT representative, he worked on the sorting conveyor, “moving 20-kilogram car parts into the right bins with my bare hands”. His body worn down, he worries about his friends. “Retraining? Those who live inland could probably find work in food processing, but the conditions aren’t the same. A petty boss talking down to you at five in the morning — some metalworkers won’t take kindly to that!” Boilermakers and maintenance workers may have better prospects.

The first invitations to group meetings at France Travail, the French public employment service, are already arriving. The appointment is for Thursday 29 October at 9:30 a.m. Workers are arranging lifts together.

Standing apart, Éric Guyomard, a technician in the design office and an elected CGT representative, explains why he keeps coming back. He still wears his company badge around his neck. “To meet up, talk and get things off our chests. We can’t just stay home alone brooding.” The expression “second family” means a great deal to him. “If a meeting came up at short notice, my colleagues would pick up my children from school or take them to the doctor. That was real solidarity!”

Could seeing a mental health professional or starting therapy help with the pain? “People tell us it would be good to see a psychologist,” says Maël Le Goff. “But the psychologists should come to us. The hardest thing is taking the first step and walking through the consulting-room door.”

A succession of owners

The history of Fonderie de Bretagne is marked by sales and takeovers, hopes and bitter disappointments.

It began in 1966. Forges d’Hennebont had closed, and Société bretonne de fonderie et de mécanique (SBFM) took its place in the Kerpont industrial area of Caudan. This was the predecessor of Fonderie de Bretagne. Renault was its main shareholder and customer. In 1999, Renault sold the business to Italy’s Teksid. “That’s when the trouble started,” recalls Maël Le Goff. “Investment stopped, everything became outdated and working conditions began to deteriorate.” SBFM was sold to another Italian company, Zen, in 2006, before Renault returned in 2009. Those three years saw “a lot of industrial action”, the union leader recalls.

Renault’s return brought investment in modern equipment. But a major fire on the moulding line in 2019 halted production and led to 19 months of repairs. It was a serious blow to Renault: certain parts were made only in Caudan. Four Breton workers were urgently sent to a Nissan plant in Spain to train the colleagues who would take over production.

“In 2021, just after Covid, Renault decided to get rid of us as part of a three-year, €2 billion cost-cutting plan. In 2022, we were sold to a German investment fund, Callista. Two years later, talks began over selling us to another German fund, Private Assets. That fell through: Renault, until then our main customer, drove a hard bargain and refused to commit to order volumes through to 2028,” says Maël Le Goff.

By then, the factory had become just another financial asset, passed from one owner to the next.

Europlasma took over in May 2025, having already acquired Forges de Tarbes. The new owner had a controversial reputation but promised to invest €15 million over three years and diversify production — and its customer base — by making artillery shells. Disillusionment came quickly: none of the promises was kept. “Europlasma’s aim wasn’t to save us, but to use us as a showcase to raise money on the financial markets,” argues Maël Le Goff. Another fire broke out in a furnace in January 2026. Production never properly resumed.

In early July, Fonderie de Bretagne entered court-supervised restructuring after it could no longer meet its payments. “In September, we even worked for fifteen days without pay.”

Workers hold the state and Renault responsible

“The real problem at Fonderie de Bretagne is order volumes. We have a huge production capacity — 40,000 tonnes a year — but since 2020 we were operating at less than 50 per cent. You can’t make money like that, even with a modern plant and a skilled workforce,” says Maël Le Goff regretfully. “The industry minister at the time, Marc Ferraci, was far too accommodating towards Europlasma, a predatory fund! How could he not know? The state owns 15 per cent of Renault: why did it accept production being moved abroad? Since the liquidation was announced, not a single politician has come to see us.”

The next battle, over the employment protection plan (plan de sauvegarde de l’emploi, or PSE), promises to be bitter. In France, such a plan sets out support for workers facing collective redundancies, including help with finding new jobs and retraining. “For now, the payments on offer are only the minimum under the collective agreement,” worries Éric Guyomard. To fund “dignified” redundancy terms, he points to money held in trust: “Renault has set aside €11.5 million since 2021 to support the business. If we could access that money, it could fund a decent support plan.”

The CGT will press for training “so that our former colleagues can find new jobs rather than end up unemployed”, says Maël Le Goff. “We’re also going to set up a foundry workers’ association, with regular drop-in sessions to help comrades deal with administrative problems,” adds Éric Blanchier. A bang interrupts him: a young former employee is setting off firecrackers, watched with a mixture of amusement and disapproval by his older colleagues. “Ideally, the lad would find another job straight away,” one of them says quietly.