How The So-called Guardians Of Free Speech Are Silencing The Messenger
23 March 2011
By
John Pilger
As the United States
and Britain look for an excuse to invade another
oil-rich Arab country, the hypocrisy is familiar.
Colonel Gaddafi is "delusional" and "blood-drenched"
while the authors of an invasion that killed a million
Iraqis, who have kidnapped and tortured in our name,
are entirely sane, never blood-drenched and once again
the arbiters of "stability".
But something has changed. Reality is no longer what
the powerful say it is. Of all the spectacular revolts
across the world, the most exciting is the
insurrection of knowledge sparked by WikiLeaks. This
is not a new idea. In 1792, the revolutionary Tom
Paine warned his readers in England that their
government believed that "people must be hoodwinked
and held in superstitious ignorance by some bugbear or
other". Paine's The Rights of Man was considered such
a threat to elite control that a secret grand jury was
ordered to charge him with "a dangerous and
treasonable conspiracy". Wisely, he sought refuge in
France.
The ordeal and courage of Tom Paine is cited by the
Sydney Peace Foundation in its award of Australia's
human rights Gold Medal to Julian Assange. Like Paine,
Assange is a maverick who serves no system and is
threatened by a secret grand jury, a malicious device
long abandoned in England but not in the United
States. If extradited to the US, he is likely to
disappear into the Kafkaesque world that produced the
Guantanamo Bay nightmare and now accuses Bradley
Manning, WikiLeaks' alleged whistleblower, of a
capital crime.
Should Assange's
current British appeal fail against his extradition to
Sweden, he will probably, once charged, be denied bail
and held incommunicado until his trial in secret. The
case against him has already been dismissed by a
senior prosecutor in Stockholm and given new life only
when a right-wing politician, Claes Borgstrom,
intervened and made public statements about Assange's
"guilt". Borgstrom, a lawyer, now represents the two
women involved. His law partner is Thomas Bodstrom,
who as Sweden's minister for justice in 2001, was
implicated in the handover of two innocent Egyptian
refugees to a CIA kidnap squad at Stockholm airport.
Sweden later awarded them damages for their torture.
These facts were documented in an Australian
parliamentary briefing in Canberra on 2 March.
Outlining an epic miscarriage of justice threatening
Assange, the enquiry heard expert evidence that, under
international standards of justice, the behavior of
certain officials in Sweden would be considered
"highly improper and reprehensible [and] preclude a
fair trial". A former senior Australian diplomat, Tony
Kevin, described the close ties between the Swedish
prime minister Frederic Reinheldt, and the Republican
right in the US. "Reinfeldt and [George W] Bush are
friends," he said. Reinhaldt has attacked Assange
publicly and hired Karl Rove, the former Bush crony,
to advise him. The implications for Assange's
extraidition to the US from Sweden are dire.
The Australian enquiry was ignored in the UK, where
black farce is currently preferred. On 3 March, the
Guardian announced that Stephen Spielberg's Dream
Works was to make "an investigative thriller in the
mould of All the President's Men" out of its book
WikiLeaks: Inside Julian Assange's War on Secrecy. I
asked David Leigh, who wrote the book with Luke
Harding, how much Spielberg had paid the Guardian for
the screen rights and what he expected to make
personally. "No idea," was the puzzling reply of the
Guardian's "investigations editor". The Guardian paid
WikiLeaks nothing for its treasure trove of leaks.
Assange and WikiLeaks -- not Leigh or Harding -- are
responsible for what the Guardian's editor, Alan
Rusbridger, calls "one of the greatest journalistic
scoops of the last 30 years".
The Guardian has made clear it has no further use for
Assange. He is a loose cannon who did not fit
Guardianworld, who proved a tough, unclubbable
negotiator. And brave. In the Guardian's
self-regarding book, Assange's extraordinary bravery
is excised. He becomes a figure of petty bemusement,
an "unusual Australian" with a "frizzy-haired" mother,
gratuitously abused as "callous" and a "damaged
personality" that was "on the autistic spectrum". How
will Speilberg deal with this childish character
assassination?
On the BBC's Panorama, Leigh indulged hearsay about
Assange not caring about the lives of those named in
the leaks. As for the claim that Assange had
complained of a "Jewish conspiracy", which follows a
torrent of internet nonsense that he is an evil agent
of Mossad, Assange rejected this as "completely false,
in spirit and word".
It is difficult to describe, let alone imagine, the
sense of isolation and state of siege of Julian
Assange, who in one form or another is paying for
tearing aside the façade of rapacious power. The
canker here is not the far right but the paper-thin
liberalism of those who guard the limits of free
speech. The New York Times has distinguished itself by
spinning and censoring the WikiLeaks material. "We are
taking all [the] cables to the administration," said
Bill Keller, the editor, "They've convinced us that
redacting certain information would be wise." In an
article by Keller, Assange is personally abused. At
the Columbia School of Journalism on 3 February,
Keller said, in effect, that the public could not be
trusted with the release of further cables. This might
cause a "cacophony". The gatekeeper has spoken.
The heroic Bradley Manning is kept naked under lights
and cameras 24 hours a day. Greg Barns, director of
the Australian Lawyers Alliance, says the fears that
Julian Assange will "end up being tortured in a high
security American prison" are justified. Who will
share responsibility for such a crime?