Mhall46184
Seeking Sanctuary at the French Embassy
“...and thence to a thing that peers in at…windows…”
-C. S. Lewis, p. 99, A Preface to Paradise Lost
Julian Assange, maybe a citizen of Australia and maybe of Ecuador, but mostly a resident of his own unhappy mind, spent seven years in his safe space in the Ecuadorian embassy in London.
Ecuador recently tired of Mr. Assange (as have we all), and ejected him into the waiting arms of a few sturdy young men in civvies, who may or may not be English bobbies, and who then gave him a courtesy ride to the nearest magistrate.
Ecuador must now hire some extra cleaners to take care of the filth and the feces (not all of it the cat’s, according the the ambassador). Yes, Mr. Assange has impressed a great many people in many ways.
Mr. Assange had forgotten the first rule of betrayal - when the country of the second part has no more use for the man who has sold out the country of the first part, the country of the second part discards him. Mr. Assange and his cat and his computer have been discarded.
Mr. Assange is no journalist and no hero; he is only a nasty little creep of the sort who peers in at other people’s windows.
We are all concerned for the cat, of course.
Mr. Assange, citizen of the world, is fortunate in having violated the laws and the trust only of the United States, Sweden, Ecuador, and Great Britain. Had he gotten crossways of the Russian KGB or of North Korea’s merry maids of mayhem, he’d be deader than Robert Francis O’Rourke’s chances of table-top dancing his way to the presidency in 2020.
One must admit that Mr. Assange’s sneaking and spying and finking paid him well, giving him the mob-funding to travel all over the world until seven years ago, when he promised to appear in an English court, and instead lied his way into the care and protection of Ecuador.
Perhaps you or I could work that gig, eh? We could betray, say, Monaco or Malta, selling all their gambling secrets to the highest bidders, and then fly to England and show up at the French embassy demanding sanctuary.
I have chosen the French embassy for your consideration because it’s much bigger and nicer than Ecuador’s, which is really just a large apartment. A schemer could live there for several years as the darling of the sort of people who watch The View, don’t vaccinate their children, and believe that the British royal family are really The Lizard People from Mars. A new parasite could inspire a new generation to be untrustworthy in every way, and pose with the Dolly Llama, some leftover 1970s actresses, and a few stray dictators-in-exile for photographs of saintly fellows who stick it to The Man.
But no.
In the end, Mr. Assange is a vulgar, self-absorbed little man who used the laws of civilized nations to avoid the consequences of his violations of the laws of those same civilized nations. He has probably caused the deaths of innocents because of his loathsome behavior, and he has certain deceived a great many foolish people and cost millions of Euros, pounds and dollars to support him in his indolence. However, the laws he and his toadies scorn mean that he will not be hanged or shot. He will live a long life in a prison or psychiatric unit, grow his beard and his resentments, write a big book in praise of himself, and someday die, perhaps convinced that the water faucet in his room is up to something.
We cannot hate such a man; we can only pity him.
-30-
No comments:
Post a Comment