Corentine Poilvet-Clediere is the CEO of LCH SA and Country Head, France, LSEG. With a career spanning trading desks, regulatory policy, and market infrastructure, she brings a broad, global perspective to leadership. In this interview, she reflects on navigating complexity, the role of clearing in a fragmented world, and why inclusive leadership and long-term thinking matter now more than ever.

Interviewed by Amra Zvizdic­­­

Your impressive career spans continents, disciplines, and sectors, from New York trade services to European post-trade policy, and now leading LCH SA. How has this international, interdisciplinary path shaped the way you lead today?

I’ve always had a deep instinctive mistrust of echo chambers and of excessive certainty, especially in environments where everyone seems to agree too quickly. At the same time, I’ve long been drawn to the Renaissance ideal of intelligence. Without making any comparisons, of course, I’ve always admired figures like Leonardo da Vinci for their ability to cross disciplines and challenge their own perspective through the multiplicity of domains they mastered.

Whenever I sense that I’ve gone too far in one direction or stayed too long in one posture, I feel the need to rebalance — not out of restlessness, but to keep evolving. For me, growth comes through movement, through the deliberate choice to shift and seek new ways of thinking. It’s my way of avoiding blind spots, and of staying intellectually alive.

I tend to seek discomfort, almost deliberately. Looking back, I often realise I’ve walked straight into the fire. There’s a part of me — slightly reckless, perhaps — that holds a persistent belief I’ll find a way through. And somehow, so far, I have.

That’s very much how I approached my academic path. I began with political science in France, where I was particularly drawn to political philosophy and macroeconomics. Then came an opportunity to study in the UK, which shifted the focus towards microeconomics and statistics. Later, in the US, I specialised in finance, which meant returning to intensive mathematical training, all while maintaining a strong intellectual interest in geopolitics. It was never a straight line, but each shift deepened and broadened my understanding.

At that point, I wanted to move closer to where real power seemed to be concentrated, and at the time, that was trading. I moved to New York and joined a commodities desk. We were perhaps two or three women in a group of thirty or forty men — a highly codified environment, not exactly poetic. A certain sharp humour was key to navigating it.

I was there during the financial crisis, when hundreds of people were laid off in a single morning — quite publicly, with the intensity of emotion you can imagine. Witnessing that left a lasting mark. It kept me grounded, and it clarified what I wanted: to shift towards risk. Trading felt too short-term. I’ve always been more of an architect, someone who wants to understand and build the structures.

That path led me to LCH, which I loved from the start. I’m relentlessly driven by complex challenges — and in risk, there’s never any shortage.

I have a tendency to seek discomfort, almost deliberately. Looking back, I often realise I’ve walked straight into the fire. There’s a part of me — slightly reckless, perhaps — that holds a persistent belief I’ll find a way through. And somehow, so far, I have.

While reading some of your recent interviews, I noticed you’ve spoken about clearing as a stabilising force in fragmented and uncertain markets. What role do you believe financial infrastructure like LCH SA should play in ensuring long-term societal and economic balance? 

We are living the end of consensus, though I’m not sure it’s fully understood yet. Clearing functions like a control tower at the heart of multiple markets, and from where I sit, I can see the tectonic plates drifting apart — economically, politically, culturally. Everything is pulling away.

We have entered a period marked by irrationality: short-term thinking, constant immediacy, and a rise in reactive, often noisy politics. The quiet structures that used to hold things together are under pressure — and it changes everything about how risk, trust, and interdependence function. The real question, in such an environment, is: who will embody the long-term, rational, fact-based voice? I believe financial market infrastructures have a critical role to play. We operate at the intersection of geographies, market participants, and economic blocs. Some of the assets we clear have maturities of up to 30 years — we are long-term by design.

In clearing especially, our core responsibility is to constantly ask what could go wrong — and ensure it doesn’t cascade into systemic damage. What fascinates me in risk management is that the most effective way to reduce risk is to diversify — again and again. Across geographies, currencies, participants, scenarios, even intensities of risk and talent. That’s how resilience is built.

Safety is fundamentally horizontal — it relies on different blocs working together. The moment those blocs begin to drift apart, economically or structurally, risk increases almost instantly. From where I sit, this means we in financial market infrastructures don’t just have a role, we have a duty. If we start aligning ourselves with short-term political delineations, we risk becoming irrelevant. Our responsibility is to remain impartial, long-term focused, and resilient, and to be prepared for the pressures that come with that stance.

Under your leadership, LCH SA has launched new models, expanded into new markets, and is preparing to clear digital assets. How do you approach driving innovation in a space so deeply rooted in risk management and regulation?

That’s one of my greatest frustrations — I value speed. But in clearing, we are the market’s insurance mechanism. If we lose our composure, everyone else will. That said, I often challenge the idea that staying still is inherently safer than moving. The status quo can be just as risky — that’s the illusion. Nothing is ever static, and failing to adapt is, in itself, a form of exposure.

For innovation to matter, it must address a problem that’s bigger than the product itself. Take the example of the European Union and its Member States: they face enormous funding needs and are issuing a significant volume of debt. Yet few are asking how that debt will be absorbed efficiently by the market. The assumption seems to be that a small number of banks will manage it, and that things will somehow fall into place.

Meanwhile, hedge funds now account for around 60% of the secondary market in European government debt. They are absorbing much of the issuance and secondary liquidity, but through bilateral channels that are neither as transparent nor as collateralised as they could be.

We’re launching clearing models designed to support and secure the role hedge funds already play — and are likely to play even more in the future. That’s the kind of innovation I find meaningful. It’s not about being flashy, it’s about rethinking oneself to remain fit for a future that hasn’t fully taken shape yet.

I’m always uneasy when I’m asked to ‘innovate on demand’ — it’s a bit like being told to make someone laugh. It just doesn’t work that way. But give me a complex problem in a highly uncertain context, and that’s when innovation naturally emerges — as a response to something real, not as a performance.

You once said that nothing gets done alone and that bringing others on the journey was something you had to learn. As a Member of the WIL network, how have communities like WIL supported that journey, and what role do they play in shaping inclusive, future-focused leadership?

What I value most about WIL lies in three things: it’s a women-only network, it’s cross-sectoral, and it has a clear purpose. The simple act of women coming together to share their experiences is in itself powerful. Historically, many authoritarian regimes have understood this intuitively — one of the first things they often do is to prevent women from gathering, whether in public or private spaces. And that raises an important question: why?

Because when women start speaking regularly to one another, they begin to see patterns. They begin to understand that certain experiences, which they may have initially perceived as personal or individual, are in fact deeply rooted in broader structures — laws, institutions, societal expectations, political frameworks. In that sense, women sharing their stories becomes an act of awareness. And awareness, in itself, is a form of power.

Projection also matters profoundly. It is essential for women to see other women leading — in institutions, in sectors, in every dimension of public life. You cannot project yourself into something you have never seen. I have two daughters and one son. I want all three of them to grow up seeing women in leadership, not just in me — but everywhere. It must become both visible and normal.

Finally, there is something deeply personal about networks like WIL. There’s mentorship, shared energy, a sense of continuity. One of the quiet injustices women face — and this was articulated powerfully by Francoise Giroud, one of the most famous French journalists, in the 1970s — is that when we fail, it is often read as a collective failure: “women can’t.” And when we succeed, it is too often seen as an individual exception. But the reverse is also true: when one of us rises, it creates space for others. That thought carries me in difficult moments. I draw energy from it. Because when we do well, we don’t just succeed for ourselves — we widen the path for those who come next.

Projection also matters profoundly. It is essential for women to see other women leading — in institutions, in sectors, in every dimension of public life. You cannot project yourself into something you have never seen.

Many women still perceive finance as a world that isn’t for them. What advice would you give to those who are intrigued by the field but intimidated by the culture?

I’ve made a few very strong hires recently — all women between 25 and 35. Brilliant, driven, but sometimes hesitant about entering the world of finance, and particularly the infrastructure side of it. Here’s what I tell them.

The first freedom is to define meaning for yourself, and to pursue it. If you’re drawn to intellectual complexity and want to work on things that truly shape the real economy, come to finance. If you value autonomy, come to finance. If you’re looking for a space where decisions matter, where the stakes are high and the learning curve is steep, come to finance.

For a moment, set society’s noise aside and ask yourself one question: Do I find this interesting? That should be your only compass.

Of course, misogyny and bias exist everywhere. But I would say that overt discrimination is now the exception. Most of what persists is the product of habit, of not having seen women in certain roles before. But once people see you perform, deliver results, uphold standards, and lead — if you’re good, they respect you. And that respect lasts.

Finally, as the CEO of LCH SA and now Country Head for LSEG France, what legacy are you hoping to build? Not just in the financial markets, but for the next generation of women in leadership?

I’m deeply attached to the idea of leading by example — and that includes showing that you don’t need to be distant, robotic or hyper-stylised to earn respect. In the end, people follow someone they trust, and even someone they like. For me, that means showing up as I am — with my own energy, my own structure, my own way of speaking, and my own sense of humour. Over time, people adapt. It’s my way of demonstrating that women not only can succeed — but that they can do so while being happy.

Because really, who wants to be a miserable success story? That part — the happiness — matters. Sure, I have off days like everyone else, but overall, I love what I do. The joy of building, of making things happen, of creating strong teams — that joy should be spoken about more openly.

As Ruth Bader Ginsburg said, sometimes you need to be a little deaf, meaning don’t overthink how you’re perceived. And I would add, don’t waste too much energy on doubt.