Wikileaks founder Julian Assange addresses members of the media and supporters from the window of the Ecuadorian embassy in Knightsbridge, west London on December 20, 2012. AFP PHOTO/Leon Neal
To provide a more secure perch for future mischief-making, Julian Assange - the hacktivist whose underground group Wikileaks has earned the ire of the United States (and diplomats everywhere) with its release of troves of classified documents in recent years — is launching a candidacy for Senate in his native Australia. To that end, he has brought on Greg Barns, a barrister and high-profile opponent of the British monarchy who has extensive experience in domestic electoral politics as former head of the Australian Republican Movement. Barns tells Reuters that his client has secured the early backing of Philip Wollen, a prominent Melbourne philanthropist and former Citibank executive, which suggests that maybe there is some kind of receptive constituency back home for a man who remains holed up in Ecuador’s London embassy, pursued by European authorities who want to try him in Sweden for rape.
But that there are eccentric millionaires out there ready to embrace questionable candidates for public office is, of course, nothing new. What is a bit strange, though, is that Assange — who made a (short-lived) career of digging up dirt on secretive politicians and governments only to become one of the most insular public figures (so to speak) on the global scene — has determined to join the electoral system of a country not exactly known for its progressive instincts or aversion to state secrecy. Perhaps more important, what are Assange’s legions of online followers to think of his latest project, one that might provide a certain measure of protection for his rants against the West but would not (legally, anyway) prevent Sweden and other governments from continuing to pursue him? The raw politics of this is that Assange may find himself trading in the people who actually love him — hacktivists and the broader universe of people who enjoy seeing Western elites sweat — for a patchwork local coalition of far less exciting interest groups.
Assuming, of course, that Assange can actually make his way out of Britain and return to Australia, he will have a fight on his hands, needing about 15 percent of the vote in the state of Victoria to join parliament. Once there, he could become an advocate for the cause of transparency and build on his brand as gadfly to national security professionals globally. In theory. But Assange has already shown himself to be at least as interested in the Assange brand as he is in transparency, as his quondam allies Anonymous made clear in late 2012, and campaigning will do nothing to lessen the gravamen of that charge. Besides, is hacker-turned-senator really a narrative his already-dented base will rally around? Whether they were in it for the frisson of danger stolen-file-dumping provides or whether they’re good-faith transparency activists, involvement with establishment politics will be a huge turn-off for both. Something Assange may want to consider. There’s usually no better way, after all, to kill the buzz of young netizens than to take the podium on the floor of (any) parliament.
