THE monumental neoclassical headquarters of Languedoc-Roussillon is a model of statement architecture. With defiant, muscular authority, it stands across the river from the historical centre of Montpellier, its plate glass glistening in the sun. It also towers over an assembly of faux-Greek esplanades and avenues, the outsized legacy of a former regional president, George Frêche. Under Frêche, who for 27 years was Montpellier’s Socialist mayor, the regional government made its mark, and not just in buildings. Between 2005 and 2010, the region’s annual payroll costs ballooned from €22m to €108m ($143m). Now, however, Montpellier is to lose its position as regional capital. As part of an efficiency drive in a country notorious for its millefeuille of administrative layers, the government plans to shrink the regions from 22 to 13 in January 2016. Some will keep existing borders, including Provence-Alpes-Côte d’Azur, where Marion Maréchal-Le Pen, grand-daughter of the now shunned Jean-Marie Le Pen, may be the National Front’s regional presidential candidate in December. Others are to be reunified, such as the two halves of Normandy.

Elsewhere, the map has been redrawn in haste and amid some controversy. Languedoc-Roussillon has been told to merge with Midi-Pyrenées to form a giant region of 6m people encompassing much of the Pyrenees and the Mediterranean coast. The capital will be Toulouse. Montpellier, where the assembly voted overwhelmingly against the merger, is not pleased. “There needs to be a fair sharing of powers between the two regions and the two cities,” says Damien Alary, Socialist president of Languedoc-Roussillon. “It cannot be an absorption of one by the other.” If the regional capital is Toulouse, he says, then Montpellier should get the headquarters of other regional public agencies, such as those dealing with health or education.

The merged region, which will keep its existing powers over economic development, transport and schools, has plenty going for it. It has France’s fastest-growing population, mainly due to migrants from colder northern parts, and property is cheaper than on the smarter Côte d’Azur. Between 2007 and 2040, the new region’s population is forecast to grow by some 28%. Toulouse boasts an aerospace industry: it is home to Airbus. Montpellier is strong in health research. Both cities have been officially named tech hubs. There is a port, albeit a tiny one, at Sète. The region’s winemakers like to claim that they plant more hectares of vineyards than Bordeaux or Napa Valley.

All of which is useful for marketing the region to investors. Languedoc-Roussillon spares no expense on this. It has promotional offices in Shanghai, New York, London and Casablanca—and devoted €15m to marketing in 2010 alone, according to the public auditor. Far less clear is whether the merged region will bring budget savings. French public-sector jobs are protected, so there will be no headcount cull after the merger. As it is, the regions employ only 4% of local-government officials, far fewer than departments (19%) or town halls (77%). Those employed in Montpellier have been told they will not have to move to Toulouse. Nor will seats be cut in the merged regional assembly. And, as Mr Alary points out, there will also be extra costs, such as from merging the two regions’ incompatible computer systems.

“In practice,” says Jean-Jacques Pons, leader of the centre-right opposition in the regional assembly, “there won’t be economies of scale, or only at the margin.” No candidate in December’s regional elections wants to campaign on a cost-cutting platform. Dominique Reynié, a political scientist at Sciences-Po in Paris who is turning to politics as head of the centre-right list, says the merged region is a good idea on its merits, but “should never have been portrayed as a cost-saving reform”.

It may be that, with time, the new regions will settle down, forge a new identity, help drive growth—and one day even save public money. But the transition is likely to be bumpy. Quadruple-barrelled names, such as Alsace-Champagne-Ardenne-Lorraine, are indigestible and unlikely to last. Yet French Catalans would be livid if the new south-west region were renamed simply Languedoc. Similar misgivings exist in Picardy, which is to merge with Nord-Pas-de-Calais, and fears being swamped by that region and its politically mighty capital, Lille. “We’ll have to drive nearly two hours up the motorway to get subsidies,” grumbles a town-hall employee in Picardy. In Montpellier, too, the horse-trading has only just begun. As one official says wryly: “We have to find something for all these people to do.”