The Cahuzac affair remains probably one of the most emblematic examples. In 2012, Mediapart revealed the existence of a Swiss bank account held by Jérôme Cahuzac, then Minister of State for the Budget. After publicly denying the allegations, including before the National Assembly, he eventually admitted to holding accounts abroad. The case culminated in his conviction for tax fraud and money laundering relating to tax fraud.
The case concerning the alleged Libyan funding of Nicolas Sarkozy’s presidential campaign also gave rise to a considerable amount of investigative work. As early as 2012, Mediapart published documents relating to possible funding from Muammar Gaddafi’s regime. Years of judicial investigation followed. In September 2025, Nicolas Sarkozy was found guilty at first instance of criminal conspiracy in this case, whilst being acquitted of several other charges. He contests the charges and has lodged an appeal.
François Fillon is another case that has come to symbolise the relationship between the press and those in power. The affair concerning his wife Penelope’s employment was initially revealed by *Le Canard enchaîné*, not by Mediapart — an important distinction when tracing the history of these scandals. François Fillon was subsequently convicted in this case, which had profoundly disrupted his 2017 presidential campaign.
Patrick and Isabelle Balkany have also been the subject of years of journalistic and judicial investigations into their assets. Their cases notably resulted in convictions for tax fraud and the laundering of proceeds from tax fraud.
More recently, it was Jordan Bardella who found himself at the centre of a Mediapart investigation. The newspaper attributes to him old messages containing, in particular, anti-Semitic and conspiracy-theory remarks. Bardella categorically denies their authenticity and has brought a defamation case. Mediapart, for its part, claims to have gathered several pieces of evidence to authenticate these exchanges and has published part of its methodology. At this stage, therefore, a clear distinction must be drawn between what the journalistic investigation claims and what has been definitively established in court.
It is precisely this distinction that gives investigative journalism its value. A journalist does not pass judgement. They gather information, verify documents, compare accounts, seek out those involved and publish what they consider to be sufficiently substantiated. The person implicated may respond, contest the allegations and take the matter to court. It is then up to the court, once the case has been brought before it, to determine criminal liability.
And Mediapart is, of course, not alone. Le Canard enchaîné, Le Monde, Radio France, France Télévisions, Libération and other news organisations have also produced investigations that have led to the exposure of major scandals. Competition between media outlets is, in fact, an essential part of this counterbalance to power.
What sets Mediapart apart in particular is its business model: the newspaper relies primarily on its subscribers rather than on advertising. A subscription therefore funds more than just access to an article. It funds journalists, investigative time, fact-checking, sometimes costly legal proceedings, and the ability to work on a story for several months without knowing whether it will lead to a major revelation.
This is perhaps the lesson common to all these cases. Whatever the political affiliations of those involved, a democracy needs a press capable of investigating those who hold or covet power.
Investigative journalism is not there to decide who should govern.
Its purpose is to ensure that citizens can make that decision based on a fuller understanding of the facts.
