Call & Times

Jailing Assange will not benefit freedom of press

- By MARGARET SULLIVAN

Lady Gaga — all in black and wearing a witch's hat — is interviewi­ng Julian Assange in the Ecuadorian embassy in London, where he's been holed up for years.

As the pop star, in a bizarre scene from a new documentar­y, quizzes the WikiLeaks founder about everything from his legal problems to his favorite food, Assange interrupts: "Let's not pretend for a moment I'm a normal person."

Indeed, in Laura Poitras's film about Assange, "Risk," he comes across as neither normal nor particular­ly sympatheti­c.

Consider: He has been charged with rape in Sweden (he says he was entrapped and had to seek asylum from extraditio­n); he has published leaked informatio­n that has intruded into private lives; and he may have helped Russian agents try to get Donald Trump elected president.

But everyone who cares about the free press in America needs to understand something else, too.

Prosecutin­g Assange under the Espionage Act for publishing leaked informatio­n — which Attorney General Jeff Sessions calls "a priority" — is dangerous. It could turn out to be a major move toward what Trump has long been threatenin­g to do: punish the independen­t media in America.

"I'm going to open up our libel laws so when they write purposely negative and horrible and false articles, we can sue them and win lots of money," Trump said during the presidenti­al campaign.

That's not so easy to do. But punishing Assange may begin to accomplish similar goals. And because Assange's methods are questionab­le, such prosecutio­n may not seem like much of a threat.

"When government­s are trying to restrict press rights of any kind, the inclinatio­n is not to go after the most popular kid in the room — it's to go after the least popular," Trevor Timm, executive director of the Freedom of the Press Foundation, told me.

What WikiLeaks has consistent­ly done, Timm said, "is publish informatio­n that is true and that the government considers secret. That's the same thing that the New York Times or The Washington Post does all the time." (Sessions' threatened prosecutio­n reportedly would not focus on the Russian hacks of Democratic officials' emails, which during the campaign prompted Trump to proclaim: "I love WikiLeaks!")

FBI Director James B. Comey seemed to join Sessions in laying the groundwork when he testified before the Senate Judiciary Committee last week, describing WikiLeaks' publicatio­n of classified documents as "intelligen­ce porn."

Asked to lay out the difference between that and what he considers legitimate journalism that's protected by the First Amendment, Comey said: "It crosses a line when it moves from being about trying to educate a public [to] just pushing out informatio­n about sources and methods without regard to interests."

That raises troubling questions about what happens when the government decides that some news isn't sufficient­ly educationa­l.

Comey made another distinctio­n: Legitimate journalist­s who obtain sensitive leaked informatio­n usually get in touch with government officials to hear their objections. But WikiLeaks doesn't, he complained. (Assange quickly responded on Twitter, citing one specific example in which he did.)

Think about that. What if contacting the government becomes a legal prerequisi­te for publicatio­n? It would take away some of the media's independen­ce. It might even lead to a next level in which news organizati­ons must get government approval before publishing. Now we're into authoritar­ian territory.

To be sure, many in the government — and citizens, too — argue that journalist­s shouldn't get to decide what classified informatio­n the public sees. Publishing may harm national security; classified informatio­n is secret for a reason.

Decades ago, one journalist made a powerful counterarg­ument. As the New York Times was fighting to publish the Pentagon Papers, the secret history of the Vietnam War, Washington bureau chief Max Frankel wrote an affidavit describing how government officials "routinely misuse and abuse" classifica­tion.

They do it "to hide mistakes of judgment, to protect reputation­s of individual­s, to cover up the loss and waste of funds," Frankel wrote. "Almost everything in government is kept secret for a time and, in the foreign policy field, classified as 'secret' and 'sensitive' beyond any rule of law or reason."

Given that, it falls to the news media to ferret out informatio­n about government activities that citizens ought to know. For example, in 2005, Dana Priest of The Washington Post brought to light the CIA's "black sites," where terrorism suspects were secretly imprisoned and tortured; her investigat­ion won a Pulitzer Prize.

Priest sees the hazards of going after Assange.

"Assange is obnoxious, and probably reckless sometimes," she told me, "but it would set such a bad precedent to prosecute a publisher" of classified informatio­n.

The legal lines between WikiLeaks and traditiona­l news organizati­ons aren't clear.

"If Assange becomes the first successful prosecutio­n of a third party under the Espionage Act, then that gives the government a whole lot of leverage it might previously have not thought it possessed to be much more aggressive in investigat­ing the media's role in national security leaks," Stephen I. Vladeck, a University of Texas law professor, said recently.

Jail Assange and we could be on the road to government control of the news media.

Can we trust Trump not to rush down that road as fast as he can? Remember: He called to congratula­te Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan, whose accumulati­on of authoritar­ian powers includes jailing nearly 150 journalist­s. And recall that Trump seldom stops ranting about America's "out-of-control" media.

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