Assange- information age hero or fake messiah?

I do not often blog about current affairs- most things in life need a little reflection before weighing in with more words. But have you been following the strange story of Wikileaks and its charismatic leader Julian Assange? It is one of those stories that might yet come to define something about our time- capturing for those yet to come the spirit of our age…

In a previous post I wondered if wikileaks could be compared to the protest songs of the 1960’s- an internet age focus for counter-cultural critique and social justice. Freedom proclaimed through computer hacking and information stealing.

Wikileaks has accumulated awards as quickly as it has raised the hackles of the most powerful people in the world. It has tweaked the tail of the war mongers and the profit makers, and they are not happy.

And when you offend these sort of interests, then you are marked. The shadows will always rustle.

But even when the timing of the attack on Assange leaves a hundred questions about whose interests are being served by the current media frenzy around his alleged sexual abusive activites in Sweden- even then the confusion over what is really going on remains.

If you want to know what Assange is actually accused of- then I suggest you check out this article in the Mail (I know, I know- but the Guardian does not seem to have been as keen to lay out the dirt.) While you are there, you can have a snigger at the sort of journalism that uses two photographs of the women involved that are totally pixelated out!

And so the lines are drawn. The Swedish prosecutors say that they have had no pressure from the USA, and the women involved say that they are merely interested in exposing Assange in his abusive attitudes towards women.

And Assange’s supporters see the whole thing as a CIA inspired honey trap- and have responded by cyber attacks on the Swedish prosecutors website (as well as attacks on Mastercard, Paypal and Visa.) Famous supporters like Ken Loach, Michael Moore and John Pilger put up money to help Assange with his legal bill- despite being labelled as ‘fans of cereal rapists’ by US conservative commentator Rush Limbaugh.

We will probably never know the truth of these allegations.

And as for Assange himself- his star has risen high- and so has far to fall. He is no Messiah, and his motives appear to be as mixed as the rest of us.

After my trawl through the tinternet looking for the marks made by this story, the only conclusions I have been able to reach are these-

To reveal the powerful in the miss use of their power is a brave and good thing.

As for the Internet Prophet himself- like most powerful messianic men, he has to face the problem of the possible miss use of personal power.

Think of the stories that have followed other men who have inspired us towards freedom- Martin Luther King, Kennedy, Mandela. All have faced scandals of a sexual nature. Some of them were trumped up in the dirty war fought against them- some were the consequence of the adulation, and the personal power accrued to men whose feet were clay, no matter how golden their heads become.

We live in interesting times.

Poems of war…

There was an interesting discussion on the radio a few days ago about war poetry, during which the question was asked again about why the voices of the Sasoon, Brooke and Owen are so powerful and evocative even so many years (and so many wars) later.

They capture for us the humanity and inhumanity of war in language so vivid and immediate that it resonates still.

But what of the war poets since? Can you name one? What poems told the story of the second world war, or the countless ones since? How many names can you bring to mind?

I read some poetry, but I can name none.

Perhaps this is because the voices of the world war poets bring something to us of a different time, when gentlemen went to war and discovered that there was nothing gentlemanly about industrial slaughter. A time when poetry was at the centre of literature and the arts, and when other forms of media were limited and closely managed.

Wars since then have increasingly been media events. Propaganda became as important as bullets, and image is all.

I wonder, in our mad information overloaded world, if the modern day equivalent of the poetry of Owen and Sasoon is the website Wikileaks.

But I am a poet (if that does not sound too pompous!)

So as we approach another remembrance day, here is a poem about war, and a poem hoping for peace-

A time for war

There is a time for all things under heaven

.

A time to dig trenches and put up barbed wire

Then run to our deaths into withering fire

A time for mass graves, for mums to wear black

Time to kill and to maim- a time to attack

.

A time to dehumanise, a time to breed hate

A time to decide the whole nations fate

A time when all truth is wrapped up in lies

For secret policemen and neighbourhood spies

.

A time to manipulate the news and the media

A time of unassailable powerful leaders

A time of expedient centralised power

Cometh the man in this our dark hour

.

A time for Guantanamo, a time for Auschwitz

A time of gas chambers and motherless kids

A time to throw rocks and let loose the rockets

A time for dead eyes fixed in dead sockets

.

A time for insurgents, a time to suppress

To disappear dissidents, and people oppress

Of brave freedom fighters and terrorist cells

A time for Robin Hoods and William Tells

.

In some foreign field or in our back yard

In red sucking mud or ground frozen hard

Lie the bones of our children who answered the call

Now glorious dead with their names on a wall

.

A time to break up and time to destroy

A time to make men of every small boy

Over by Christmas or just a bit more

Now is the time for us to make war

A time for peace

There is a time for all things under heaven.

.

There must come a time when canons will fall silent

And men start again to look beyond the battlements

Into the scarred and empty fields

Seeded still with land mines

.

There is a time to strike the white flags of surrender

And put away the banners of victory

A time when triumphalism

No longer seems to honour

The broken bodies

And the freshly dug graves

.

There must also come a time when displaced people

Dare to step beyond the bounds of the refugee camp

And walk the long road home

.

Surely too the day will come when guns will be melted into garden forks

And tanks will pull the plough

A time for doves instead of hawks

And lions to learn care for the cows

.

A time will come too when borders are open

And bitterness and hate are eroded by the resilience of a new generation

Who begin to replace fear with hope

And the need for revenge recedes

.

But for now the shadows cast will lie long

Across these broken houses

And the empty streets

In this brand new time of fragile peace.

Both poems from ‘Listing’, available from http://www.proost.com.)