Anatomy of Media Influence, From Novosti to RT

Transposing the methods of the Soviet news agency Novosti into the digital age, RT France has reinvented state propaganda under the guise of pluralism. Behind the facade of open debate, the channel has methodically built a relationship of control: seduce, confuse, isolate, then survive after its disappearance. From 2017 until its ban in 2022, it transformed mistrust of the media into a culture of defiance, the effects of which still linger—like the half-life of invisible radiation.

Introduction: State continuity

Banned in France in 2022¹, RT is the direct heir to a communications apparatus born at the heart of the Soviet system². Its predecessor, the Novosti Press Agency (APN), was created in 1961 by decree of the Presidium of the Supreme Soviet. Officially tasked with “informing the world about the life of the Soviet people,” the APN actually functioned as the media arm of the government: with its central editorial office in Moscow, offices in several capitals, and close collaboration with the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and the KGB. It published multilingual magazines, organized trips for foreign journalists, and supervised Soviet correspondents abroad. Information was a weapon.

After the fall of the USSR, the agency transformed itself without disappearing. In 1993, it became RIA Novosti (Russian Information Agency Novosti). The vocabulary was modernized, but the function remained the same: to serve the Russian state’s international communications. The Soviet propaganda tool was turned into an instrument of Russian soft power.

The decisive change came in 2013. A decree by Vladimir Putin dissolved the editorial staff of RIA Novosti and placed the agency under the supervision of a new entity, Rossia Segodnia (“Russia Today”), headed by Dmitry Kiselyov, a star presenter and Kremlin loyalist. The stated objective was to “rationalize” the public media. The real effect was to centralize the political control of information. Rossia Segodnia became the transmission belt between the government and its external showcases: the Sputnik multimedia network and the international channel RT (Russia Today), created in 2005 to speak to foreign audiences in English, Arabic, Spanish, German, and French.

RT France, launched in 2017, is therefore not an isolated media outlet, but the latest link in a state apparatus whose genealogy dates back to the Soviet Union. This continuity explains the nature of its relationship with the public: RT does not seek primarily to inform, but to establish a relationship of dependence and emotional trust, following a logic of influence already tested by its Soviet predecessor.

I. Seduction: flattering wounded lucidity

RT France’s media influence began in the fall of 2018, when the Yellow Vests protest movement arose spontaneously. This movement, which originated on social media and was organized outside of union structures, is completely decentralized: it has no hierarchy, no common leadership, and only a few ephemeral and often competing figures. It brings together activists from opposing political backgrounds around a single common denominator: anger.

This anger quickly turned against institutions, political representatives, and journalists themselves. Newsrooms became symbolic targets of popular mistrust. Reporters were subjected to insults and sometimes physical attacks. The idea took hold that the “mainstream media” were mouthpieces for those in power.

Traditional channels tried to maintain balanced coverage, taking care to verify and contextualize their reporting. But competition between 24-hour news channels, the pressure of live broadcasting, and the hunt for “scoops” lead to mistakes. These errors, amplified on social media, fuel suspicion and reinforce the idea of a disconnected or biased press.

RT France exploited this flaw. From the very first weeks of the movement, the channel favored broadcasting raw images and uncontextualized testimonials, to the detriment of verification and prioritization of information³. Its reporters broadcast long images, raw testimonials, and raw emotions. The framing was simple: “the people speak, finally heard.” Where the French media questioned, RT agreed; where others provided context, it embraced anger. The goal was not to inform, but to create immediate identification. RT fed on anger, dramatized it, and fueled it, without ever addressing its root causes. Resentment was no longer an object of analysis: it was fuel.

The contrast was stark. On the one hand, journalism under pressure, caught between rigor and haste; on the other, a channel that relied on sheer emotional appeal. RT did not seek critical distance: it sought emotional closeness. By addressing directly the frustration of those who felt excluded from public debate, it established a bond of trust based on recognition: “We understand you; we say what others dare not say.”

Within a few months, the strategy was bearing fruit. RT France was gaining unprecedented visibility on social media; its videos were circulating widely and being reposted by activist groups. The channel was becoming a benchmark, not for the quality of its journalism, but for the warmth of its mirror. It was turning a defiant audience into a loyal one.

II. Distortion: lending credibility to the debate

Once trust was established, RT France sought to broaden its influence. After capturing an audience through emotion, the channel needed to acquire an appearance of respectability. This role was fulfilled by Frédéric Taddeï, recruited in 2018 to host Interdit d’interdire (It is forbidden to forbid).

The program’s concept was appealing: an open set, guests from a variety of backgrounds, topics that were “off-limits elsewhere .” On the surface, it appeared to be a rare space for freedom of expression. In reality, the program acted as an editorial alibi. It embodied the plurality that RT needed to differentiate itself from the media it accused of bias. This diversity of tone allowed it to cover a wide spectrum of audiences: conservatives, sovereignists, anti-establishment figures, or simply curious people disillusioned with the mainstream media.

At the slightest attack, Interdit d’interdire became the fallback argument: “See, we debate everything.” But this showcase was just a trap to lend credibility to RT. The real goal was to get viewers used to watching the channel, to integrate it into their media consumption routines, and to get them to consider RT as a normal space for public debate.

Around this polite showcase, RT cultivated a whole host of recurring guests who ensured the continuous dissemination of the Russian line. Former military officer Xavier Moreau, based in Moscow and founder of the Stratpol website, provided “strategic expertise.” Geopolitologist Caroline Galactéros, founder of the thinktank Geopragma, dressed up the pro-Russian discourse in the language of diplomatic ”realism.” Lawyer Régis de Castelnau, a columnist for the blog Vu du Droit, translated propaganda into legal and moral vocabulary. Former intelligence chief Alain Juillet embodied institutional respectability. Economist Jacques Sapir, director of studies at EHESS and an avowed sovereigntist, was regularly invited to justify Russian economic policy and criticize Western sanctions, providing valuable “academic” intellectual legitimacy. Journalist Régis Le Sommier, a former senior reporter at Paris Match who became editor-in-chief of RT France, completed the picture: his background in the traditional press provided a veneer of journalistic credibility, blurring the line between state media and conventional journalism.

Gravitating around this core was a nebulous group of contributors: François Asselineau, leader of the sovereignist UPR party; Swiss Colonel Jacques Baud, who justified Russian military strategy; and Florian Philippot, president of Les Patriotes. All of them regularly relayed the Kremlin’s talking points.

RT, eager to preserve an appearance of decency, cleaned up the most extreme comments on air. It allowed the most brutal positions to be broadcast on the internet, in conferences, or on the personal channels of these contributors, while offering them initial exposure on screen. The channel did not produce the discourse alone: it presented, legitimized, and promoted it. This architecture created a multi-layered system of influence: Taddeï’s set attracted viewers, experts lended credibility, and propagandists relayed the message.

This is the logic of distortion: concealing the orientation behind the form, wrapping propaganda in the guise of debate. Viewers, already seduced by the channel’s empathetic stance, find confirmation of their own lucidity in this staging. They believe they are witnessing a diversity of opinions, when in fact they are merely browsing through variations on the same narrative.

III. Isolation: organizing mistrust

Once credibility was established, RT France could embark on the most effective phase of its strategy: isolating its audience from the rest of the media and institutional landscape. The principle is simple: the more viewers doubt everything, the more they trust RT.

This strategy was a direct continuation of the undermining work begun during the Yellow Vests period. RT had captured the popular anger against the political and media elites; it would now extend it to all institutions: government, justice, science, Europe, and the press. What was initially a matter of social mistrust was becoming a culture of widespread mistrust.

Since 2019, the channel had devoted an increasing amount of airtime to criticizing the “mainstream media.” Expressions such as “groupthink,” “collusive journalism,” and “NATO propaganda” had become commonplace. The mistakes made by French newsrooms were systematically held up as evidence of a closed information system. RT presented itself as the only space where speech was free, facts were complete, and the public was respected.

The mechanism works through cognitive reversal: the more others are accused of lying, the more sincere RT appears. Doubt becomes a virtue, suspicion a sign of intelligence. RT transforms mistrust into a collective identity: to be mistrustful is to belong.

This logic of isolation is based on familiar vocabulary: “re-information,” “detoxification,” “free voices.” Viewers gradually come to see themselves as insiders, lucid in the face of widespread manipulation. RT is no longer just a channel: it is a community of perception, a space where mistrust is experienced as liberation.

Behind this mechanism lies the Kremlin’s ideological framework: that of a West corrupted by an invisible “deep state,” given over to moral decadence, media manipulation, and the breakdown of identity. Opposite this is the image of a sovereign, moral, and besieged Russia, the bearer of an alternative order based on tradition, strength, and loyalty.

This imaginary world permeates the channel’s entire rhetoric. First, there is the paranoia of a global Western conspiracy, reactivated in the form of systematic doubt toward all institutions. Added to this is the ideology of a multipolar world, translated in the media into constant relativism: all versions are equal, none can be considered true. RT also values moral purity and the rejection of complexity: the sincere people versus the corrupt elites, spontaneous speech versus sophisticated lies. The conflict becomes spiritual: emotion takes precedence over reason, belief over evidence. Finally, the channel glorifies heroic isolation, directly mirroring the Russian narrative of a besieged but virtuous nation, alone against all, misunderstood but entrusted with a moral mission.

RT transposes these motifs to the individual level: the viewer becomes the symbolic double of the Russian citizen described by the authorities. They too find themselves alone against everyone else, misunderstood but morally superior. Ideological control thus takes the form of comfort: isolation is no longer exclusion, but proof of lucidity and loyalty.

The process follows a classic pattern of control: once a relationship of trust has been established, isolation makes it indestructible. The viewer, cut off from any contradiction, no longer evaluates facts except through the prism provided by RT. What they believe to be critical thinking becomes cognitive withdrawal. Constant doubt replaces verification.

Thus, modern propaganda no longer seeks to impose a single truth: it suffices to destroy the very idea of a shared truth. RT does not say “believe me”; it says “don’t believe anyone anymore.” It is in this vacuum of trust that it establishes itself permanently. Deprived of a voice, the channel nevertheless continues to exist through the idea it has sown: all discourses are equally valid, truth is merely a matter of perspective, and no narrative is more legitimate than another. RT has broken down the salutary barrier between fact and opinion. This is its most enduring legacy: a world where uncertainty is no longer a temporary state, but a permanent condition.

IV. The break with reality: the contagion of doubt

In 2020, the Covid-19 pandemic offered RT France a decisive opportunity. The health crisis provided fertile ground for mistrust, already entrenched, to turn into total suspicion. While the traditional media fumbled in the face of an unprecedented event, the Russian channel exploited every hesitation, every reversal, every contradiction on the part of the health authorities. Scientific discourse, usually a factor of stability, became the new object of suspicion. The discourse shifted: it was no longer just a matter of denouncing the “media complicit with the authorities,” but now scientists, doctors, and health institutions as well.

As during the Yellow Vests crisis, RT appealed to emotion. It exploited the frustration born of the confusion it cultivated, offering a platform to all voices that opposed the scientific consensus or challenged political decisions. Doubt became raw material; fear, a driver of audience ratings. Every isolated testimony, every rumor, every personal anger was presented as “another truth,” proof that the system was lying. It was no longer information, but a drama of suspicion.

The internal contradiction of Russian propaganda then became glaringly obvious: on RT France, Western vaccination was denounced as a tool of domination; meanwhile, on RT Russia, the same health policy was defended as a patriotic act! This double discourse was not target toward consistency: it was targetet toward confusion. RT did not seek to convince, but to disorient.

This mechanism is part of a long tradition of biological disinformation inherited from the Soviet era. In the 1980s, the KGB orchestrated Operation INFEKTION⁴, designed to make people believe that the AIDS virus had been created by the US military at Fort Detrick. RT was not the inventor of this method: it is its contemporary successor. During the pandemic, the channel helped spread rumors about the American origin of Covid-19, without ever openly endorsing them. The pattern is the same: start with a legitimate fear and inject it with a hostile human intention to turn uncertainty into political suspicion. The goal is not to impose an explanation, but to make any truth unverifiable.

This is where the break with reality manifests itself: doubt, initially presented as a critical reflex, becomes a permanent state. Every event is perceived as a symptom of concealment, every piece of data as suspect. Viewers can no longer distinguish contradiction from complexity; they lock themselves into a closed system where any information, even false information, can be true “from a certain point of view.”

During the pandemic, this logic spread to other spheres: politics, economics, and geopolitics. Health measures became proof of a “global dictatorship,” international institutions instruments of enslavement, journalists “accomplices to lies.” The vocabulary of control (“electronic collars,” “health passes,” “chips,” “mass experimentation”) gradually replaced that of care. The mask itself became a symbol: no longer presented as a precautionary measure, but as a muzzle imposed on the people, a sign of submission and silence. RT deliberately exaggerated the scope of health measures, describing them as instruments of widespread surveillance or social conditioning. The goal was not to inform, but to provoke an emotional reaction: to elicit “reactance” from the public, that psychological impulse that drives a person to reject any form of authority perceived as a threat to their freedom of action.

RT does not simply report the most extreme theories: it legitimizes them by presenting them on the same level as facts. Every image, every slogan, every emotion becomes an equivalent “truth.” The hierarchy between evidence and feeling collapses; doubt becomes a form of resistance.

In Putin’s Russia, propaganda is based on faith in power. In RT’s West, it is based on faith in doubt. The result is the same: an altered relationship with reality, where truth becomes incidental and consistency suspect.

When RT France was banned from the airwaves in 2022, following the invasion of Ukraine, the cognitive damage had already been done. The channel disappeared, but its legacy lives on in social media, parallel channels, and influential figures. The radical skepticism it cultivated survives its closure: the belief that all discourse is biased, that all institutions lie, that truth is a matter of personal choice.

RT has stopped broadcasting, but it continues to have an impact: a weakened sense of reality, an audience that doubts not out of ignorance, but out of conviction. This is the final and most dangerous stage of control: the stage where lies no longer need to be believed in order to work.

V. Victimization: the narrative of the banned media outlet

In March 2022, following the invasion of Ukraine, the European Union banned the broadcasting of RT and Sputnik. The decision, justified by their role in Russia’s information war, ended five years of RT France’s official presence. But for the channel, this sanction immediately became a narrative resource. Deprived of airtime, RT redefined itself not as a state media outlet, but as a victim of Western censorship.

The rhetorical reversal was complete. What was once a strategy of influence orchestrated from Moscow suddenly became a symbol of the fight for freedom of expression. The president of RT France, Xenia Fedorova, orchestrates this metamorphosis in her book Bannie, published in 2025⁵: the channel is described as a “misunderstood” media outlet, punished for “showing what others were hiding.” The soothing narrative, in which the “little girl from Kazan” emphatically takes center stage, faithfully reproduces the codes of narcissistic victimization: proclaimed innocence, exhibited suffering, accusations turned against the executioner. Since the closure of RT France, this “banished” figure has by no means left the media scene. On the contrary, she has increased her columns and appearances within the Bolloré group on CNews, in JDNews, and through books published by Fayard. Her repositioning in this conservative ecosystem illustrates the strategic continuity of this stance: turning banishment into symbolic capital and taking advantage of a French media landscape where the line between foreign propaganda and nationalist counter-discourse is easily blurred under the guise of pluralism.

This stance serves several purposes. Symbolically, it erases all responsibility: the closure of RT is no longer the consequence of state propaganda, but proof of ideological repression. Strategically, it reactivates the attachment of the won-over public: those who saw RT as a dissident voice find confirmation of their intuition: “If they are being silenced, it is because they were telling the truth.” This is the persecution bias: the tendency to interpret any opposition as evidence of persecution or conspiracy. Far from weakening the media’s influence, censorship strengthens it in the minds of its loyal followers.

The closure does not put an end to the channel; it dematerializes it, disseminates it, and makes it elusive. In 2022, Omerta Media⁶ appears, a news site founded by Charles d’Anjou, a former columnist for RT France, and directed by Régis Le Sommier, former editor-in-chief of the channel. Presented as a reporting and investigative media outlet, Omerta continues RT’s familiar tone and themes: criticism of the elites, denunciation of “the system,” and the promise of “free” journalism.

In this victim narrative, the Kremlin finds its own narrative. RT is no longer an instrument, but a mirror: that of a Russia described as just but persecuted, morally upright but politically demonized. The parallel is complete: the banned channel becomes the media embodiment of Russia under siege. This latest shift completes the cycle: after seducing, confusing, isolating, and disorienting, RT sanctifies itself through persecution.

The effectiveness of this stance lies in its plasticity: the channel no longer needs to broadcast to exist. Its narrative of victimization is fueled by every criticism, every article, every reminder of its ban. It thrives on its absence, like a shadow cast by public debate. Propaganda no longer has a vector: it has transformed itself into a reflex, an emotion, a culture.

Thus ends the cycle of influence: from emotional attachment to ideological dependence, from voice to echo. RT France has not disappeared; it has melted into the cognitive fog it helped to create.

VI. Half-life: influence without substance

RT France no longer exists. And yet it still speaks. From Moscow, Belgrade, and Dubai, Telegram accounts bearing its logo continue to distribute content in French. YouTube channels hosted outside Europe republish old programs. Mirror sites (rt-france.info, rtfrance.net) clone the interface of the old site and feed a continuous stream of articles. Technically, RT France has disappeared, but it survives in reality.

The phenomenon goes beyond simple technical persistence. RT no longer needs to broadcast to exist: it now lives in the cognitive reflexes of its audience. Five years of broadcasting were enough to imprint a framework for interpretation, a mental habit: evaluating information with suspicion, confusing skepticism with lucidity, interpreting any disagreement as proof of manipulation. RT has transformed itself into autonomous mental software, capable of functioning without its creator.

The most striking example is the reception of independent investigations into the war in Ukraine. When, in 2023, Bellingcat published an analysis detailing Russian responsibility for the bombing of the Mariupol theater, the reaction in spaces frequented by former RT viewers was immediate: “Bellingcat, funded by the CIA”; “Le Monde, Atlanticist propaganda”; “Another false flag operation.” RT was never mentioned, but its lexicon, argumentative patterns, and automatic disqualifications were everywhere. The media outlet has faded away but its discourse lives on. This is the half-life of propaganda: the initial energy declines, but continues to act long after the source has disappeared.

In physics, half-life refers to the time it takes for half of a radioactive substance to decay. The metaphor applies here: informational contamination persists, slow, invisible, but active. The ban on RT France has not destroyed its influence; it has made it diffuse, elusive, and all the more effective as it now blends in with the general climate of mistrust.

Psychologists who study influence talk of “cognitive scars.” After the source is broken or disappears, the victim continues to reproduce the patterns that have been instilled: mistrust, isolation, fear of manipulation. RT has instilled a reflexive doubt, an inability to distinguish between reliable and toxic sources. Suspicion now operates on autopilot.

Journalists are seeing the effects of this on the ground. In 2023, columnist Sophia Aram mentioned messages from listeners calling her a “propagandist” or “sold out to the system.” Samuel Laurent, from Le Monde‘s Les Décodeurs, summed it up: “We can fact-check a hundred times, it won’t change anything: for part of the audience, the truth is disqualified on principle.” RT did not win by imposing a narrative; it won by destroying the very possibility of a common narrative.

Cognitive researchers refer to this as epistemic learned helplessness⁷. Faced with a flood of contradictory information and the fear of being wrong, individuals stop seeking the truth: they fall back on their intuitions, on what comforts them. RT has industrialized this fatigue: its goal was not to convince, but to exhaust. Every consensus became “questionable,” every piece of evidence “relative,” every institution “suspicious.” The result: an informational fog where the only remaining compass is emotion.

The old faces of RT perpetuate this fog. Frédéric Taddeï continues on Sud Radio and YouTube with the format of “uncensored” debate, where all opinions are equal. Xavier Moreau broadcasts pro-Kremlin analyses from Moscow to tens of thousands of subscribers. Caroline Galactéros speaks in sovereignist media and geopolitical conferences. None of them claim to be affiliated with RT France, but all reproduce its methods: moral relativism, inversion of reality, and methodical confusion between opinion and fact.

On social media, anonymous accounts recycle pro-Russian talking points: “NATO is provoking Russia,” “Ukraine is a puppet state,” “Sanctions are starving the South.” These statements circulate without attribution, presented as obvious truths. The French service Viginum has documented several coordinated Russian operations using French-language pseudo media and networks of inauthentic accounts to spread these anti-Ukrainian narratives. France 24⁸ identified that out of 115 pieces of manipulative content verified in one year, 91 were pro-Russian, illustrating the scale of the phenomenon in the French-speaking world.

This is the culmination of influence: the manipulator no longer needs to be present to be obeyed. RT has shaped a way of doubting, rejecting, and judging. Once internalized, this doubt is transmitted without source; it becomes culture.

Some viewers are beginning to break away from it. In forums or on Reddit, some testify: “I thought I was lucid; I was being manipulated. Even today, I continue to doubt everything” (an example of cognitive scarring). These stories show that it is possible to break free from the hold, but it is a slow process, requiring re-education in discernment. Learning to trust again becomes an act of resistance.

RT France is no longer broadcasting, but its fog persists. Its legacy is not a message: it is a method. Shutting down RT was like turning off the reactor, but the particles are already in the air. They will continue to act for a long time, invisibly. Such is the half-life of propaganda.

Conclusion: the economics of mistrust

RT did not impose the Kremlin’s ideology; it instilled a reflex of suspicion. It transformed mistrust into an emotional resource, a political identity, a moral stance. Its success is not that of a discourse, but of a method: seducing the disillusioned, flattering wounded lucidity, blurring reference points, isolating the convinced, reversing roles, sanctifying itself in persecution, then surviving in automatic thinking patterns. It did not seek to convince, but to exhaust confidence, discernment, and the possibility of a common space of truth.

This mechanism reproduces, on a media scale, that of narcissistic control. The manipulator does not dominate by force, but by confusion: they seduce, reassure, disorient, then deprive their target of all external confidence. When the bond is broken, the victim remains a prisoner of the reflexes instilled in them: mistrust, isolation, and defiance of all authority. RT applied this pattern to an entire audience. It taught its viewers not to believe in it, but to believe in nothing.

The figures reflect this shift. According to Kantar Group⁹, in 2023 only 34% of French people said they trusted traditional media. In 2018¹⁰, just after the launch of RT France, 56% trusted radio, 52% trusted the print media, and 48% trusted television. Correlation does not imply causation, but the coincidence raises questions: RT was not a media accident, but part of a global apparatus, that of Russian propaganda, whose goal is not to convince, but to erode trust. It has provided this strategy with a code, an aesthetic, and Western legitimacy. It has institutionalized suspicion.

The question now goes beyond the Russian case. How can trust be restored when mistrust has become a virtue? How can the truth be defended when all truth is perceived as suspect? How can dialogue take place when disagreement itself is interpreted as evidence of manipulation?

Emotional control cannot be overcome by simple contradiction. Opposing facts to a belief is not enough when that belief fulfills an emotional need: the need to be recognized, to feel lucid, to not be deceived. Reconstruction can only be patient and embodied: recognizing legitimate wounds (feelings of abandonment, social contempt, invisibility), offering spaces for dialogue, rehabilitating complexity without condescension. Breaking free from influence cannot be decreed: it requires a collective effort to relearn discernment.

But this reconstruction also requires explanation: describing the mechanisms, documenting the strategy, showing how propaganda takes hold in the relationship, not in the message. Naming it is making visible what acts in silence. And it means giving those who have been seduced the tools to understand, rather than stigmatizing them.

RT France has disappeared, but its imprint remains. In every comment accusing the press of lying, in every debate saturated with suspicion, in every listener convinced that “everyone is manipulating,” its trace is evident. Its half-life is measured not in months, but in generations. Because what RT transmitted was not a narrative: it was a cognitive climate. It did not seek to prove that Russia was right, but to instill the idea that no one can be right.

Its effectiveness lies in this inversion: it does not manufacture belief, it manufactures fatigue in believing. It does not construct an alternative truth; it destroys the possibility of a common truth. And this destruction does not fade away: it spreads, dilutes, and is inherited.

Five years of seduction, two years of absence, and decades of persistence. RT France no longer exists, but it still speaks.

1. Decision of the Council of the European Union of March 1, 2022.
2. History of Rossia Segodnia
3. “RT channel rides the wave of the yellow vest movement,” Le Monde, January 5, 2019.
4. Pascale Mascheroni, “Operation INFEKTION: the case of a successful disinformation campaign on AIDS,“ École de guerre économique, May 11, 2021.
5. Xenia Fedorova, Bannie. Liberté d’expression sous condition, Fayard, 2025.
6. See Vincent Laloy, ”Omerta, the voice of Moscow,” Desk Russie, November 17, 2024.
7. Maier, S. F., & Seligman, M. E., “Learned helplessness: theory and evidence.” Journal of experimental psychology: general, 105(1), 1976.
8. Les Observateurs, “War in Ukraine: a year of disinformation in figures,” France 24, February 23, 2023.
9. Kantar Barometer: French confidence in the media, 37^th edition.
10. “The French are regaining confidence in traditional media and distrusting the internet, according to a survey,” Franceinfo, January 23, 2018.