WikiLeaks turns on Julian Assange

WikiLeaks staff call for its founder to step aside in view of rape allegations he faces.

Julian Assange could be facing a rebellion from within his own organisation over the rape charges laid against him in Sweden.

Birgitta Jónsdóttir, a member of the Icelandic parliament and previously an influential supporter of WikiLeaks, has gone on the record on the Daily Beast website to say that she has encouraged Assange to give up his responsibilities with WikiLeaks until after the criminal investigation is over.

I am not angry with Julian, but this is a situation that has clearly gotten out of hand. These personal matters should have nothing to do with WikiLeaks. I have strongly urged him to focus on the legalities that he's dealing with and let some other people carry the torch.

Jónsdóttir went on to say that she didn't believe Assange's assertions that the rape allegations were part of "an American-organised smear campaign". She also criticised the way he has previously run the organisation, saying that "there should not be one person speaking for WikiLeaks. There should be many people."

For someone like Jónsdóttir, who has previously lobbied hard on behalf of WikiLeaks, to be so openly critical of its founder is indicative of serious internal differences within the organisation.

Another source, who refused to be named, said there is a strong feeling among WikiLeaks volunteers that Assange should step aside for the good of the organisation. Apparently, technical staff protested against his refusal to go by taking the WikiLeaks site offline temporarily, ostensibly because of technical difficulties. However, the source said:

It was really meant to be a sign to Julian that he needs to rethink his situation. Our technical people were sending a message.

The investigation into the rape allegations against Assange was reopened last week after a Swedish prosecutor stated that he had "reason to believe that a crime was committed".

These signs of internal rebellion cannot be good news for WikiLeaks. The organisation relies heavily on thousands of volunteers and donors to keep it afloat, and if there is indeed discontent in the ranks, the whistleblowing website's future could be in danger.

But most of all, this raises questions about Assange himself. Mysterious and elusive, he personally attracts a disproportionate amount of the coverage surrounding his organisation purely because of his enigmatic persona and reportedly unorthodox lifestyle.

As I observed at the press conference on the day WikiLeaks released the Afganistan war logs, journalists are fascinated by Assange, and kept asking him questions long after he had any new answers to give purely because of the novelty of having him standing before them in the flesh.

The statements from within the organisation seem to show that he runs the operation in a very egotistical way, refusing to share power or responsibility with those who give up their time to assist him.

There is no doubt that the oddness of his personality has enhanced WikiLeaks's traction with the media. But now that he is under criminal investigation, that technique is turning sour, contaminating the ideals under which WikiLeaks purports to operate with Assange's own egotistical style of leadership. To continue to front the organisation under such circumstances would do long-term harm to its credibility.

Caroline Crampton is assistant editor of the New Statesman.

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Why relations between Theresa May and Philip Hammond became tense so quickly

The political imperative of controlling immigration is clashing with the economic imperative of maintaining growth. 

There is no relationship in government more important than that between the prime minister and the chancellor. When Theresa May entered No.10, she chose Philip Hammond, a dependable technocrat and long-standing ally who she had known since Oxford University. 

But relations between the pair have proved far tenser than anticipated. On Wednesday, Hammond suggested that students could be excluded from the net migration target. "We are having conversations within government about the most appropriate way to record and address net migration," he told the Treasury select committee. The Chancellor, in common with many others, has long regarded the inclusion of students as an obstacle to growth. 

The following day Hammond was publicly rebuked by No.10. "Our position on who is included in the figures has not changed, and we are categorically not reviewing whether or not students are included," a spokesman said (as I reported in advance, May believes that the public would see this move as "a fix"). 

This is not the only clash in May's first 100 days. Hammond was aggrieved by the Prime Minister's criticisms of loose monetary policy (which forced No.10 to state that it "respects the independence of the Bank of England") and is resisting tougher controls on foreign takeovers. The Chancellor has also struck a more sceptical tone on the UK's economic prospects. "It is clear to me that the British people did not vote on June 23 to become poorer," he declared in his conference speech, a signal that national prosperity must come before control of immigration. 

May and Hammond's relationship was never going to match the remarkable bond between David Cameron and George Osborne. But should relations worsen it risks becoming closer to that beween Gordon Brown and Alistair Darling. Like Hammond, Darling entered the Treasury as a calm technocrat and an ally of the PM. But the extraordinary circumstances of the financial crisis transformed him into a far more assertive figure.

In times of turmoil, there is an inevitable clash between political and economic priorities. As prime minister, Brown resisted talk of cuts for fear of the electoral consequences. But as chancellor, Darling was more concerned with the bottom line (backing a rise in VAT). By analogy, May is focused on the political imperative of controlling immigration, while Hammond is focused on the economic imperative of maintaining growth. If their relationship is to endure far tougher times they will soon need to find a middle way. 

George Eaton is political editor of the New Statesman.