Getting the Assange issue wrong

Some illiberal thinking by well-meaning liberals.

The Guardian today publishes this letter in support of Julian Assange.

Most sensible and liberal people will find something to endorse in the letter. Although the moral certainty of some of those involved in or supportive of WikiLeaks can be off-putting – and I, for one, am glad that their fingers are on "To publish" buttons only, rather than any others – there is no doubt that they are facing sustained and hostile actions intended to undermine their activity.

But at the end of this letter of support come demands that are flatly, horribly wrong: "We demand his immediate release, the dropping of all charges . . ."

No. This is a person accused of sex offences and against whom there is a European Arrest Warrant. It may well be that he will be able to defeat the attempt to extradite him, or it may be that he will be cleared of the allegations, or acquitted of any charges if tried. But as it stands, he should not be treated any worse or any better than any other person accused of such offences who is subject to a live extradition process.

When the allegations first broke back in August, it was immediately clear that many of his supporters were rushing in to smear or dismiss the complainants casually. This was an ugly and unfortunate reaction which, if anything, has intensified. Many observers – and not only feminists – are rightly disgusted by this display of instinctive or intended misogyny (including a great piece today by Libby Brooks, also in the Guardian).

Just as in August, the complainants deserve to be accorded respect. Assange, in turn, should have the benefit of the presumption of innocence. And, unless there is a good basis for defeating the extradition proceedings, there should now be a speedy procedure that will either determine any guilt or clear his name.

All this is simply "due process" and, once upon a time, well-meaning liberals wrote letters to the Guardian in defence of this liberal value, too.

David Allen Green is a lawyer and writer. He is legal correspondent of the New Statesman and was shortlisted for the Orwell Prize in 2010.

David Allen Green is legal correspondent of the New Statesman and author of the Jack of Kent blog.

His legal journalism has included popularising the Simon Singh libel case and discrediting the Julian Assange myths about his extradition case.  His uncovering of the Nightjack email hack by the Times was described as "masterly analysis" by Lord Justice Leveson.

David is also a solicitor and was successful in the "Twitterjoketrial" appeal at the High Court.

(Nothing on this blog constitutes legal advice.)

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For the first time in my life I have a sworn enemy – and I don’t even know her name

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

Last month, I made an enemy. I do not say this lightly, and I certainly don’t say it with pride, as a more aggressive male might. Throughout my life I have avoided confrontation with a scrupulousness that an unkind observer would call out-and-out cowardice. A waiter could bring the wrong order, cold and crawling with maggots, and in response to “How is everything?” I’d still manage a grin and a “lovely, thanks”.

On the Underground, I’m so wary of being a bad citizen that I often give up my seat to people who aren’t pregnant, aren’t significantly older than me, and in some cases are far better equipped to stand than I am. If there’s one thing I am not, it’s any sort of provocateur. And yet now this: a feud.

And I don’t even know my enemy’s name.

She was on a bike when I accidentally entered her life. I was pushing a buggy and I wandered – rashly, in her view – into her path. There’s little doubt that I was to blame: walking on the road while in charge of a minor is not something encouraged by the Highway Code. In my defence, it was a quiet, suburban street; the cyclist was the only vehicle of any kind; and I was half a street’s length away from physically colliding with her. It was the misjudgment of a sleep-deprived parent rather than an act of malice.

The cyclist, though, was enraged. “THAT’S CLEVER, ISN’T IT?” she yelled. “WALKING IN THE ROAD!”

I was stung by what someone on The Apprentice might refer to as her negative feedback, and walked on with a redoubled sense of the parental inadequacy that is my default state even at the best of times.

A sad little incident, but a one-off, you would think. Only a week later, though, I was walking in a different part of town, this time without the toddler and engrossed in my phone. Again, I accept my culpability in crossing the road without paying due attention; again, I have to point out that it was only a “close shave” in the sense that meteorites are sometimes reported to have “narrowly missed crashing into the Earth” by 50,000 miles. It might have merited, at worst, a reproving ting of the bell. Instead came a familiar voice. “IT’S YOU AGAIN!” she yelled, wrathfully.

This time the shock brought a retort out of me, probably the harshest thing I have ever shouted at a stranger: “WHY ARE YOU SO UNPLEASANT?”

None of this is X-rated stuff, but it adds up to what I can only call a vendetta – something I never expected to pick up on the way to Waitrose. So I am writing this, as much as anything, in the spirit of rapprochement. I really believe that our third meeting, whenever it comes, can be a much happier affair. People can change. Who knows: maybe I’ll even be walking on the pavement

Mark Watson is a stand-up comedian and novelist. His most recent book, Crap at the Environment, follows his own efforts to halve his carbon footprint over one year.

This article first appeared in the 20 October 2016 issue of the New Statesman, Brothers in blood