As the founder of Acrimed (Action Critique Médias) in 1996, in the wake of the major social movement of 1995, Henri Maler realised very early on that media criticism could no longer be left solely to the media themselves. It took citizens, researchers, journalists, activists and readers to view the system from the outside, to dismantle its mechanisms, to observe its habits, its blind spots, its collusion and, at times, its failures. Acrimed was born out of this conviction, and Henri Maler was for a long time one of its key driving forces.
Trained as a philosopher and later a senior lecturer in political science at the University of Paris 8, Henri Maler was not merely an observer of the media. He was a man of conviction. For him, analysing the press, radio or television only made sense if that analysis served to defend something greater: everyone’s right to be properly informed, diversity of opinion, journalistic independence, and the ability of different media outlets – sometimes fragile, sometimes representing minority voices – to exist alongside the major media groups.
He had also grasped something that has become even more pressing today: whoever owns the media holds a considerable share of the power to set the agenda, to decide what is discussed and, at times, how it is discussed. His criticism could be harsh, scathing and readily ironic. It could be irritating. That was sometimes even his aim. But behind the controversy lay a fundamental question: who controls those who inform us?
Henri Maler never merely posed this question from a university lectern. He wrote, edited, organised meetings, approached authors, prepared debates, distributed leaflets and tirelessly supported the work of Acrimed. The organisation credits him with nearly 700 articles and recalls that, in its early years, his own home even served as its headquarters. Behind the intellectual, then, there was also the craftsman – the man who knew that an idea only survives if someone is willing to do the day-to-day work to keep it alive.
For independent, alternative or simply small-scale media outlets, his legacy is particularly significant. Henri Maler did not, of course, single-handedly create the free press, nor did he certainly claim to speak on behalf of all those who produce it. But he helped to create a space where one could challenge media concentration, question media practices and remind people that news also belongs to those who read, listen to and watch it.
Today, the battle he fought is far from over. Economic concentration, the race for audience share, dependence on advertising, social media, algorithms, the precarious nature of the journalism profession, the power of platforms: the media landscape has changed, but many of the questions raised by Henri Maler remain. Perhaps they have even become more urgent.
We must also acknowledge something rare about him: he helped to firmly establish media criticism in the French public debate. What might have seemed, thirty years ago, to be a concern reserved for a handful of activists has become an almost daily topic of discussion. We now discuss media concentration, pluralism, editorial independence, conflicts of interest and media ownership with a vigilance that owes much to the work of those who, like him, refused for years to regard these issues as secondary.
At a time when so many voices sound alike, when the same guests sometimes move from one programme to another, and when a handful of groups control a significant share of our media landscape, the existence of free, independent, community-run or simply different media remains essential.
Le Mague, an independent media outlet founded in 2003 and still going strong twenty-three years later, knows what this freedom means: it is sometimes fragile, imperfect and economically precarious, but it allows one to choose one’s own subjects, angles, causes for outrage and sources of enthusiasm. It is precisely so that such voices can continue to exist that media criticism such as that put forward by Henri Maler remains necessary.
One may take issue with some of his analyses, or disagree with all his convictions or some of his passions. Indeed, that would probably be the best way to show respect for someone who had made the clash of ideas a democratic necessity. But it is hard to deny the steadfastness of his commitment.
Henri Maler leaves behind Acrimed, thirty years of struggle, hundreds of articles and, above all, a question that it is up to us to continue asking: what kind of information do we want, and who do we want to be allowed to produce it?
In a world where information has become an immense power, continuing to ask this question is in itself a form of freedom.
Thank you, Henri Maler, for being one of those who never stopped asking it.
