By Anthea Kasonga
Last July, Jérémie Nzita Mambu, the creator behind the Instagram news channel Yurbise, received a takedown request from one of Belgium’s leading politicians.
Georges Louis Bouchez, president of the liberal Mouvement Réformateur (MR), sent a letter demanding that he remove a post resharing a critical Le Vif investigation into the party and threatening legal action. The European Federation of Journalists recorded this as harassment and intimidation of a journalist on the Council of Europe platform.
This incident was not isolated. An MR-linked account accused Yurbise of spreading “fake news and malicious innuendo,” and Nzita Mambu now speaks openly about being targeted by much older political figures.
Five months later, MR deputy Chris Massaki raised the issue in the Parliament of the Fédération Wallonie Bruxelles, asking the media minister what actions the government intended to take regarding “news influencers”.
Without immediately naming Yurbise, he described a new category of creators: people posting daily political content on social media, outside recognised newsrooms and without professional oversight. He questioned their reliability, impartiality, and independence, and asked whether these accounts should be regulated, labelled, and clearly distinguished from journalists.
He then made it explicit by citing Yurbise, an independent media project whose founder had interned with an Ecolo MP, arguing that this political proximity risks blurring the line between information and activism.
Media minister Jacqueline Galant, also from MR, agreed that “news influencers” are media actors but not journalists under Belgian law. She placed them between media and digital platforms, referenced EU frameworks like the Audiovisual Media Services Directive and the Digital Services Act, and emphasised that they do not fall under Belgium’s journalism ethics council, the CDJ, due to their lack of professional status.
On paper, this seems like a typical policy debate. Regulators across Europe are examining how to address accounts operating outside traditional news structures, citing examples like France’s law on commercial influencers and the EU’s Digital Services Act.
The debate in Belgium has become sharply focused on a 21-year-old Black creator who uses direct videos to address politics, racism, and discrimination—topics he argues are often ignored by established outlets. Although he has quickly built a substantial following, he now faces targeted legal action and the prospect of regulations aimed at limiting creators like him.
Neutrality and who counts as media
Nzita Mambu has been open about his politics and his stance on neutrality. In an interview with local television, he explains that he rejects journalistic “neutrality” on issues like racism. He reasons that, as a Black person directly affected by these topics, complete impartiality is neither possible nor desirable; his lived experience shapes his reporting. However, he insists that participating in a political internship will not make him an instrument of any party, emphasising his commitment to reporting independently, even when engaged with advocacy.
In a media culture that still treats “objectivity” as the defining trait of journalism, this approach makes him an easy target for criticism. The prevailing argument holds that if you are openly engaged or take a position on issues, you cannot be considered neutral and, thus, cannot be a journalist according to traditional standards.
The response from Yurbise and the open letter co-signed by other independent creators is that Belgium has a long tradition of politically engaged journalism. Historical newspapers were tied to political families. Contemporary outlets like Médor openly position themselves on the left while doing serious investigative work.
The difference is that these outlets are inside the system. They have press cards, state subsidies, and seats at the table when media policy is written. Yurbise is outside.
Massaki’s intervention makes clear MR’s suspicion: by lacking institutional connections and espousing open politics, Yurbise is being framed as ineligible for media recognition. The open letter pushes back: excluding creators for their politics would disqualify much of Belgium’s own media history. If transparency is so critical, why not apply the same scrutiny to politicians’ social media?
When politicians are the biggest influencers
The double standard becomes clear when you look at who actually dominates political feeds.
Bouchez, the MR president who sent the legal notice, is one of the most active politicians on Belgian social media. He posts regularly, speaks directly to the camera, comments on the news, and frames debates in partisan terms, using the same short video formats as the creators now being called “news influencers”.
So does Raoul Hedebouw, leader of the far-left Workers’ Party. So does Bart De Wever, the Flemish nationalist who is now Belgium’s prime minister, with hundreds of thousands of followers. Charles Michel also leaned heavily on social media during his campaigns.
Yet, none of these political figures are labelled as “news influencers”. None of them face parliamentary calls for content regulation. Their videos are treated as political activity, even though the content and formats often mirror those of independent news explainers now under scrutiny.
The independent creators’ letter calls this out. When a young creator posts videos criticising MR policy, it is framed as a dangerous form of influence that needs control. When the president of MR defends the same policies in a video, it is treated as normal communication.
Serge Coosemans, a veteran journalist and critic, publicly argues that Yurbise is more of a political actor than a journalist. He warns against confusing advocacy with reporting, accusing parts of the industry of indulging the “megalomania” of news influencers. However, he fails to address why combative columnists with institutional backing and explicit political lines are accepted as journalists, while similarly combative Instagram creators doing comparable work are automatically labelled as “activists”.
Who draws the line, and on what basis?
In Belgium, professional status is the gatekeeping mechanism. You are not a journalist just because you produce news. You need recognition through a legal framework tied to employment in a newsroom or freelance accreditation with established outlets.
Nzita Mambu does not have that. So, legally, he is not a journalist, even if his work – daily explainers, interviews, policy walk-throughs – looks close to what accredited journalists publish on digital platforms.
The independent creators’ letter does not reject standards or ethics. It rejects the idea that a new regulatory category can be drawn up by the same political actors whose decisions they scrutinise, without rights or input for those concerned.
If Belgium wants to regulate “news influencers”, the letter argues, it has to answer three basic questions:
- Will creators receive the same legal protections as journalists, including protections for sources and access to information?
- Will there be a clear path to press accreditation for independent digital media that meet journalistic standards, even if they are not hired by legacy outlets?
- Will independent creators be involved in drafting the rules that will apply to them?
Regulation that fails to grant creators equal rights amounts to control. The definition of media should not remain the exclusive domain of established powers.
Beyond one Instagram account
The open letter notes that Belgium’s media market is highly concentrated, with a few groups dominating print and broadcasting. Recent mergers have further strengthened this control, especially in French-speaking Belgium, with public subsidies and close political-media ties reinforcing it.
Portraying a 21-year-old Instagram creator as the principal threat to media independence diverts focus from the real risks to pluralism, using his case as a distraction from deeper structural issues.
The Council of Europe platform recorded the legal threat as harassment of a journalist, highlighting the power imbalance in Belgium’s debates over who qualifies as media.
Faced with new European media laws, Belgium must now answer this question: how should its institutions respond as politically engaged creators gain influence and unsettle traditional centres of power?
More questions
The Yurbise case spotlights a few core challenges for media diversity in Belgium:
First, who defines journalism as it moves beyond institutions? Limiting recognition to legacy outlets leaves gaps in protection.
Second, will regulation address media concentration or merely target small creators, reinforcing existing imbalances?
This case puts a spotlight on how states treat young, racialised media actors who speak about power.
It is not incidental that this case involves a 21-year-old Black creator whose work focuses on racism, discrimination, and politics in accessible language. If the response combines legal notices from party leaders, hostile framing from party-linked channels, and a new regulatory category drawn up without his input, the message to other young media makers is clear.
Does any new framework protect the right of diverse, independent actors to inform the public? Does it give them a real voice in shaping the rules that will govern them? And does it address the structural forces that already make many newsrooms less plural and independent than they claim?
The views and opinions expressed in this article are solely those of the author and do not reflect the official policy or position of the Media Diversity Institute. Any question or comment should be addressed to [email protected] of the Media Diversity Institute (MDI).
