The True False Cultural Freedom

24 December 2025. Published by Benoît Labourdette.
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Faced with recent film deprogrammings by elected officials from various political sides, a collective statement expresses outrage at political interference in cultural programming. Yet this corporatist indignation obscures a structural reality that I believe is important to illuminate.

The Statement and Its Context

A statement signed by eighteen organizations in the film sector, including ACID, GNCR, and SPI, firmly condemns “the multiple interferences and violations of respect for creative freedom.” The signatories reference the law of July 7, 2016, relating to freedom of creation, architecture, and heritage, which establishes that “the dissemination of artistic creation is free” and that local authorities “ensure respect for freedom of artistic programming.”

Three recent cases motivate this reaction: Benoît Payan, Mayor of Marseille (Printemps Marseillais), deprogrammed the film Sacré-Cœur; Ludovic Pajot, RN mayor of Bruay-la-Buissière, deprogrammed the film Put your soul on your hand and walk while encouraging Sacré-Cœur; Rémi Muzeau, mayor of Clichy-la-Garenne, also imposed the film Sacré-Cœur on the municipal cinema, which led to the director’s resignation.

But the hypocrisy is considerable. What freedom are we talking about exactly? And freedom for whom? The programming freedom defended here is that of a person appointed by elected officials to direct a cinema or theater. If this person disagrees with the policy supported by the elected officials, they can be dismissed, just as they were appointed, or decide to resign, as happened in Clichy.

The Democratic Logic of Public Funding

Elected officials have been designated by universal suffrage. They appoint the heads of cultural structures, whether at the level of local authorities or nationally. The management of France Télévisions, for example, is appointed by the government, and the Minister of Culture is part of the government. These are therefore political choices that carry cultural policies following the vote. This is the normal functioning of our republican institutions.

To the extent that subsidized culture is subject to budgetary choices according to a number of criteria, a large part of which is political, since we are governed by elected persons, in what way can we speak of freedom? It is naive to believe that the criteria for funding choices would be purely aesthetic. These criteria are political, because aesthetics itself is political. Indeed, the way one represents the world is a political choice, even when one believes it is only about aesthetics.
Having served on numerous grant committees, I know how much support is political in the broad sense of the term. In these committees, there is a form of self-censorship: we won’t support certain projects that we know would not be validated by the elected officials. But above all, the committees only give an opinion; they are never decision-makers. It is always the elected officials who sign the decrees and grant the financial aid. They are therefore, ultimately, always the decision-makers, and this is indeed the principle of universal suffrage. However, they have surrounded themselves with specialists (the committee members) to advise them, often in the most diverse way possible, but always within the framework of the political project they carry.

Interference as a Systemic Revelation

When there is what is called “interference,” the deprogramming of a planned cultural event, it is simply the visible tip of the iceberg. It simply shows the real functioning of the system. Michel Schneider brilliantly analyzed this in La Comédie de la culture (1993): “The arts may have the ministry they deserve, and the ministry the artists who justify it. [...] A subsidy in exchange for a signature at the bottom of an electoral manifesto.”
Where freedom of dissemination and artistic creation truly exists is when you decide to write a text and read it publicly, or to rent a private venue and organize a show with your own means. You must be free to do so—this is what the law defends in a democracy. But as soon as public funding is involved, for which we have elected representatives to manage this common money, we have delegated the decision to someone, including the decision about the content of what is programmed. This also raises questions, as we will see later.
We must clearly distinguish the right to freedom of expression, creation, and dissemination on the one hand, and the use of public money on the other. For the latter, we have elected people to whom we delegate political choices. It is therefore logical that this space is not a space of freedom. This kind of statement, in my view, misses the point: it simply expresses a disagreement between the heads of cultural structures and elected officials. They are not, or no longer, on the same side, that’s all. In municipalities, all decisions, including programming ones, are driven and/or validated directly by elected officials, upstream or downstream. Let’s stop pretending it would be otherwise. Why be outraged by a situation that is actually the rule?

Public Money and the Confiscated Freedom of Citizens

The subsidized cultural sector, heir to royal patronage, has always been a tool of political influence. From Louis XIV to Malraux, culture has been designed to carry a vision of the State. Culture, by intervening in representations of the world, is a powerful tool of power.
Public money is taxpayers’ money. When a person, designated to defend democracy, alone chooses to program something, is it really freedom being implemented? Whose freedom? Were citizens asked their opinion about this programming? Did they decide what they would like on the screen of this cinema or on the stage of this theater? Is their freedom respected?
Because it is the citizens who pay. One can ask: are they consulted? In what way do they feel concerned? In reality, their freedom is completely confiscated. Some will object that they voted for the elected officials who appointed these cultural leaders. True. But democracy is not simply giving carte blanche to people who abuse the power conferred upon them. Making use of democracy means, on an ongoing basis, respecting people’s cultural rights.

Cultural Democracy as a Horizon

We have an organizational system with representatives for whom we vote. But then, on the ground, do we continue to practice democracy in how we conduct cultural projects? Most often, no. We confiscate the freedom of people who may feel like strangers to these choices and lack the capacity for action, even though it is their taxes funding these programs.
The real issue, in my view, is not to criticize politicians who “censor.” In any case, the system works this way; it is simply the visible tip of the iceberg. The real issue is to connect better, more closely, with citizens. Perhaps it means rethinking programming, whatever the films. Perhaps it means rethinking ourselves as being in service of citizens’ emancipation, that is, of cultural democracy, and not as some kind of superior being imposing on citizens what we think is good for them. Let’s stop thinking on behalf of others, and let’s practice democracy in our way of working. Then, if elected officials try to impose something, it will be against the opinion and against the freedom of their voters.
Cultural rights, enshrined in the NOTRe (2015) and LCAP (2016) laws, invite us to respect people’s expression, their rights of access, their contribution, their cooperation, their participation. This is fieldwork, day by day. Here lies the democratic mission that cultural actors must carry. And the bond of cultural cooperation with citizens, which cultural actors must foster to comply with the law, constitutes the true struggle for freedom—the freedom of all.

A Corporatist Problem, Not a Democratic One

Yes, let’s talk about freedom. But let’s talk about freedom for all citizens, not only for people who have been chosen to lead cultural structures with public money and who, one day, find themselves in conflict with their elected officials. What we see here is simply a corporatist problem. It is not a democratic problem, contrary to what we are led to believe.

The cultural field is not an exception. Michel Schneider documented it: the French public cultural sector is also a milieu, a “court,” with its stakes and internal politics, which sometimes have nothing to do with the common good or the missions inscribed in law. It is of primary importance to guard against court effects, against the privileges of some to the detriment of the service rendered to citizens from their own money, which is collected mandatorily for the common good, let us not forget.

The “defense” of creative freedom sometimes becomes the defense of a status quo, of a microcosm attached to its advantages, without questioning its practices. The true democratic requirement lies in sincere interest for the people one addresses. It lies in building a genuine cultural democracy, where each person is recognized and encouraged in their capacity to contribute to collective cultural life, in their freedom. If we position ourselves as defenders of freedom, let us defend citizens’ freedom in the cultural field, and not our personal power to which we attach the word “freedom,” which is thus debased. Let us rise to our republican missions and implement cultural rights—that is, let go of our power. That is our role.

My multidisciplinary practices—spanning creation, cultural action, training, and support in a wide range of cultural, social, and educational contexts across France—provide me with a privileged, subjective, and in-depth observatory of the cultural sector in France.

This sector is weakened by its position, often deemed “non-essential” by many political leaders, by the competition from digital platforms in cultural practices, as well as by challenges and obstacles related to the difficulty of establishing interdisciplinary collaborations and the scarcity of evaluations, which are often poorly conducted and instrumentalized.

My observatory allows me to identify dynamics that work, as well as difficulties I observe. Here, I propose to share my analyses, methods, and suggestions, hoping they may prove useful. My goal is to contribute to a stronger cultural sector in the future, as I believe that defending a cultural sector funded by taxpayers’ money holds the potential for emancipation, the development of freedoms, democracy, and the capacity to act—in a way that is fundamentally different from what private actors produce.

This is possible if there is no hypocrisy, and in my view, it comes at the cost of a commitment to lucidity and self-questioning, a choice to deconstruct representations, and perhaps to challenge certain privileges and systems of domination.


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