WikiLeaks is a rare truth-teller. Smearing Julian Assange is shameful

WikiLeaks is a rare example of a newsgathering organisation that exposes the truth. Julian Assange is by no means alone.

Last December, I stood with supporters of WikiLeaks and Julian Assange in the bitter cold outside the Ecuadorean embassy in London. Candles were lit; the faces were young and old and from all over the world. They were there to demonstrate their human solidarity with someone whose guts they admired. They were in no doubt about the importance of what Assange had revealed and achieved, and the grave dangers he now faced. Absent entirely were the lies, spite, jealousy, opportunism and pathetic animus of a few who claim the right to guard the limits of informed public debate.

These public displays of warmth for Assange are common and seldom reported. Several thousand people packed Sydney Town Hall, with hundreds spilling into the street. In New York recently, Assange was given the Yoko Ono Lennon Courage Award. In the audience was Daniel Ellsberg, who risked all to leak the truth about the barbarism of the Vietnam war.

Like Jemima Khan, the investigative journalist Phillip Knightley, the acclaimed film director Ken Loach and others lost bail money in standing up for Assange. “The US is out to crush someone who has revealed its dirty secrets,” Loach wrote to me. “Extradition via Sweden is more than likely . . . is it difficult to choose whom to support?”

No, it is not difficult.

In the NS last week, Jemima Khan ended her support for an epic struggle for justice, truth and freedom with an article on Wiki­Leaks’s founder. To Khan, the Ellsbergs and Yoko Onos, the Loaches and Knightleys, and the countless people they represent, have all been duped. We are all “blinkered”. We are all mindlessly “devoted”. We are all “cultists”. In the final words of her j’accuse, she describes Assange as “an Australian L Ron Hubbard”. She must have known this would make a gratuitous headline, as indeed it did across the press in Australia.

I respect Jemima Khan for backing humanitarian causes, such as the Palestinians. She supports the Martha Gellhorn Prize for Journalism, of which I am a judge, and my own film-making. But her attack on Assange is specious and plays to a familiar gallery whose courage is tweeted from a smartphone.

Khan complains that Assange refused to appear in the film about WikiLeaks by the American director Alex Gibney, which she “executive produced”. Assange knew the film would be neither “nuanced” nor “fair” and “represent the truth”, as Khan wrote, and that its very title, We Steal Secrets: The Story of Wikileaks, was a gift to the fabricators of a bogus criminal indictment that could doom him to one of America’s hellholes. Having interviewed axe-grinders and turncoats, Gibney abuses Assange as paranoid. DreamWorks is also making a film about the “paranoid” Assange. Oscars all round.

The sum of Khan’s and Gibney’s attacks is that Ecuador granted him asylum without evidence. The evidence is voluminous. Assange has been declared an official “enemy” of a torturing, assassinating, rapacious state. This is clear in official files, obtained under Freedom of Information, that betray Washington’s “unprecedented” pursuit of him, together with the Australian government’s abandonment of its citizen: a legal basis for granting asylum.

Khan refers to a “long list” of Assange’s “alienated and disaffected allies”. Almost none was ever an ally. What is striking about most of these “allies” and Assange’s haters is that they exhibit the very symptoms of arrested development they attribute to a man whose resilience and good humour under extreme pressure are evident to those he trusts.

Another on the “long list” is the lawyer Mark Stephens, who charged him almost half a million pounds in fees and costs. This bill was paid from an advance on a book whose unauthorised manuscript was published by another “ally” without Assange’s knowledge or permission. When Assange moved his legal defence to Gareth Peirce, Britain’s leading human rights lawyer, he found a true ally. Khan makes no mention of the damning, irrefutable evidence that Peirce presented to the Australian government, warning how the US deliberately “synchronised” its extradition demands with pending cases and that her client faced a grave miscarriage of justice and personal danger. Peirce told the Australian consul in London in person that she had known few cases as shocking as this.

It is a red herring whether Britain or Sweden holds the greatest danger of delivering Assange to the US. The Swedes have refused all requests for guarantees that he will not be despatched under a secret arrangement with Washington; and it is the political executive in Stockholm, with its close ties to the extreme right in America, not the courts, that will make this decision.

Khan is rightly concerned about a “resolution” of the allegations of sexual misconduct in Sweden. Putting aside the tissue of falsehoods demonstrated in the evidence in this case, both women had consensual sex with Assange and neither claimed otherwise; and the Stockholm prosecutor Eva Finne all but dismissed the case.

As Katrin Axelsson and Lisa Longstaff of Women Against Rape wrote in the Guardian in August 2012, “. . . the allegations against [Assange] are a smokescreen behind which a number of governments are trying to clamp down on WikiLeaks for having audaciously revealed to the public their secret planning of wars and occupations with their attendant rape, murder and destruction . . .

“The authorities care so little about violence against women that they manipulate rape allegations at will . . . [Assange] has made it clear he is available for questioning by the Swedish authorities, in Britain or via Skype. Why are they refusing this essential step to their investigation? What are they afraid of?”

Editor's note: The full title of the film about Wikileaks "We Steal Secrets: The Story of Wikileaks" has now been included in this article.

Julian Assange. Photo: Zed Nelson/INSTITUTE

John Pilger, renowned investigative journalist and documentary film-maker, is one of only two to have twice won British journalism's top award; his documentaries have won academy awards in both the UK and the US. In a New Statesman survey of the 50 heroes of our time, Pilger came fourth behind Aung San Suu Kyi and Nelson Mandela. "John Pilger," wrote Harold Pinter, "unearths, with steely attention facts, the filthy truth. I salute him."

This article first appeared in the 18 February 2013 issue of the New Statesman, Iraq: ten years on

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Selfie sticks mask a bigger problem we have with each other – interaction

New services and products, like selfie sticks, ensure we never have to look each other in the eye, or ask for a tiny favour.

Selfie sticks are the worst, there's no denying it. I was so close to having a selfie stick-free weekend wandering around London aimlessly. But I made the mistake of walking across Westminster Bridge and saw plenty in action. And who can blame Londoners and tourists wanting to frame themselves right next to views of parliament or the London Eye on the opposite side? I'm a sucker for excellent views, like anybody else.

Whereas selfies are inherently a necessary evil for all of those apps that require a decent profile picture, the stick takes this indulgence to a whole new level. Before this metal, phone-holding pole became hilariously popular across the globe, we all had to do the unthinkable (prepare to gasp): ask someone to take a photo of us! How strange and good-hearted of us to trust a member of the public with those brilliant point-and-shoot cameras that we've now stuffed in our attics and bedroom drawers.

I can understand using one in a secluded place where there's nobody around. But isn't the reason behind the selfie stick to basically minimise your interaction with others? After all, a human is going to take a better photo of you and your loved one on the Thames, instead of fumbling for the shutter button on the stick and trying to see the screen a few feet away. We've become too afraid and awkward to ask someone for this tiny favour. This level of awkwardness is just being translated into all sorts of stupid goods and services around the world. It's as if the fictional Larry David from Curb Your Enthusiasm is being catered to in so many ways.

Heard of the Breakup Shop? Yes, it sounds exactly what you think it would be about. A company that can send an endearing Snapchat message so you can break up with the person you just took that selfie with. Even the now classic method of using email is too considered and measured. And by that I mean having the courage to send an email yourself, not via a third-party service. What happened to seeing people's faces in the flesh and witnessing how our words affect them? We used to be so caring and thoughtful this way.

But of course, that's a service for something serious a person with no courage could end up using. What about everyday, tedious matters? Silicon Valley has you covered! For example, you can avoid going to the petrol – sorry, gas – station and doing that thing car owners have to do frequently: fill up your tank with fuel. Don't worry, this giant "inconvenience" can now be removed from your life through Purple. What's that? It's a service where you pay for fuel through an app and share your car's location. At some point, a dude-bro (or sister) will pop round and fill up the fuel tank, so long as you remember to leave the cap open. Yes. This is a real thing.

The word convenience comes up very frequently with these superfluous start-ups. I think it all started to go into overdrive after Graze, a snack delivery service, which I can understand because I'd find it hard to make a low-fat cake and only restrict myself to a small cube for the whole week. Certain colleagues of mine are hooked to these sorts of things, so much so that I stick by my claim of Wall-E, in which humans are bolted to self-driving seats unable to move, being potentially the most accurate of all sci-fi films ever made.

However, other start-ups are so flat-out idiotic, you have to question why they exist, like Fetch Coffee. Why would you pay extra to have a Starbucks drink delivered to your door? After all, Starbucks sell that stuff in the supermarkets for you to make yourself when you are at home and away from one of their cafes. Are we simply so annoyed by the act of queuing and recognising each other's existence that we want our morning coffee personally delivered to us in such a wasteful way?

It's pretty simple. We're all becoming fumbling, anxious outcasts, constantly inconvenienced by life itself. We're determined to avoid interaction with others even more than is already possible. No wonder the best YouTube channels are of fellow citizens sharing stories of awkward encounters – they're my favourite too.

The Office, NBC

These are all passive distractions we're happy to engage in, so we can avoid sitting with someone for two minutes and provide, in the words of Dwight Schrute, undivided attention to others. It reminds me of an appearance by Louis CK on Conan O'Brien's American talk show. He says everyone has something inside them that is "forever empty", and we're losing the ability to feel empathy towards others.

The most striking thing about following Adele's re-emergence like a fanboy was the small atom of information saying she had returned to doing her own laundry again after giving up the chore. Perhaps it's time we become happy and content in being able to wash our own clothes, fuel up a car and even ask someone to take a photo of ourselves. It'll make us better people.