Part 7 (2/2)

a.s.sange himself subsequently maintained that he had only a ”brief interaction” with Shamir: ”WikiLeaks works with hundreds of journalists from different regions of the world. All are required to sign non-disclosure agreements and are generally only given limited review access to material relating to their region.”

One can only speculate about whose interests Shamir was serving by his various wild publications. Perhaps his own personal interests were always to the fore. But while the newspapers had hammered out a deal to handle the cables in a responsible fas.h.i.+on, Shamir's backstairs antics certainly made WikiLeaks look rather less so.

CHAPTER 14.

Before the deluge

El Pais newspaper, Calle de Miguel Yuste, Madrid newspaper, Calle de Miguel Yuste, Madrid 14 November 2010

”It was a fruit machine. You just had to hold your hat under there for long enough”

ALAN R RUSBRIDGER, THE G GUARDIAN.

Viewed on screen, the unkempt, silhouetted figures looked like hostages held in the bas.e.m.e.nt of a terrorist group's safehouse. One of the stubbly, subterranean figures moved closer to the camera. He held up a sheet of paper. Written on it was a mysterious six-digit number. A secret Swiss bank account, perhaps? A telephone number? Something to do with The Da Vinci Code The Da Vinci Code?

The shadowy figures had not, in fact, been seized by some radical faction, but were a group of journalists from Spain's El Pais El Pais newspaper. Nor was their note a ransom demand. It was the index reference of one of more than 250,000 cables. Since being invited to join the existing British-US-German consortium or ”tripart.i.te alliance” as the newspaper. Nor was their note a ransom demand. It was the index reference of one of more than 250,000 cables. Since being invited to join the existing British-US-German consortium or ”tripart.i.te alliance” as the New York Times New York Times's Bill Keller dubbed it El Pais El Pais had wasted no time in setting up its own underground research room. had wasted no time in setting up its own underground research room.

The paper and France's Le Monde Le Monde had joined the WikiLeaks party late. They had only two weeks to go through the cables before the D-day publication night. The had joined the WikiLeaks party late. They had only two weeks to go through the cables before the D-day publication night. The Guardian Guardian had been in the luxurious position of having held the same material for several months. had been in the luxurious position of having held the same material for several months. El Pais El Pais's editor-in-chief, Javier Moreno, and executive Vicente Jimenez urgently summoned back to Madrid their foreign correspondents; sitting in the paper's bunker, next to endless discarded coffee cups, they ploughed through the database.

The journalists may have been heartened to read that, according to a secret cable from US officials in Madrid dated 12 May 2008, El Pais El Pais was Spain's ”newspaper of record”. It was also, apparently, ”normally pro-government”. But they also found sensational material: the US emba.s.sy in Madrid had tried to influence judges, the government and prosecutors in cases involving US citizens. One involved a detainee at Guantanamo Bay, another covered secret rendition flights in Spain, and another was about the murder of a Spanish journalist by US fire in Baghdad. They also discovered stories from all across Latin America: from Mexico, Argentina, Colombia and Venezuela. was Spain's ”newspaper of record”. It was also, apparently, ”normally pro-government”. But they also found sensational material: the US emba.s.sy in Madrid had tried to influence judges, the government and prosecutors in cases involving US citizens. One involved a detainee at Guantanamo Bay, another covered secret rendition flights in Spain, and another was about the murder of a Spanish journalist by US fire in Baghdad. They also discovered stories from all across Latin America: from Mexico, Argentina, Colombia and Venezuela.

From the beginning, the papers had agreed to work collaboratively. They shared some discoveries from the cables and even circulated lists of possible stories. a.s.sange later claimed in a Swedish TV doc.u.mentary that it was he personally who was pulling the strings of the old-fas.h.i.+oned MSM. He said: ”What is new is us enforcing co-operation between compet.i.tive organisations that would otherwise be rivals to do the best by the story as opposed to simply doing the best by their own organisations.”

In reality, this was a co-operative technique that the Guardian Guardian, along with other international outlets, had long been building. The previous year, for example, the paper had successfully beaten off lawyers for the Trafigura company, who had dumped toxic waste, by working in concert with BBC TV's Newsnight Newsnight, with a Dutch paper, Volkskrant Volkskrant, and with the Norwegian TV channel NRK. The British arms giant BAE had also been brought to a $400m corruption settlement with the US department of justice, following a campaign in which the Guardian Guardian co-operated with other TV and print media in countries from Sweden to Romania to Tanzania. co-operated with other TV and print media in countries from Sweden to Romania to Tanzania.

The most distinguished pioneer of this globalised form of investigation was probably Charles Lewis, founder of the Center for Public Integrity in Was.h.i.+ngton DC, who, a full decade earlier, organised a ma.s.sive exposure of the British American Tobacco company's collusion in cigarette smuggling, with simultaneous publication by media in Colombia, London and the US.

So the present five-way media consortium was not a new invention. It was or would be if it actually worked the culmination of a growing media trend. What made this trend possible was what also made it necessary: the technological growth of ma.s.sive, near-instantaneous global communications. If media groups did not learn to work across borders on stories, the stories would leave them behind.

In the run-up to cable D-Day, Ian Katz, the deputy editor managing these complex relations.h.i.+ps, held regular Skype chats with the Guardian Guardian's multilingual counterparts. ”They were hilarious conversations,” Katz recalls. The reason the Spaniards were holding up the number of a US state department cable to the Skype camera was security it had been agreed that no sensitive mentions would be made over the phone or by email.

In Berlin, similarly, Marcel Rosenbach, from Der Spiegel Der Spiegel, was the first to unearth a cable with the deceptively bland t.i.tle: ”National HUMINT Collection Directive on the United Nations.” In fact, it revealed the US state department (on behalf of the CIA) had ordered its diplomats to spy on senior UN officials and collect their ”detailed biometric information”. They were also told to go after ”credit card account numbers; frequent flyer account numbers; work schedules and other relevant biographical information”. The cable, number 219058, was geopolitical dynamite. n.o.body else had spotted it. ”Marcel had written down the number. I could only see half of it. I had to tell him: 'Left a bit, left a bit,'” Katz recalls.

For Julian a.s.sange like Jason Bourne, the Hollywood secret agent constantly on the run from the CIA elaborate security precautions may have been second nature. But for journalists used to spilling secrets down at the pub after a gossipy pint or two they were a new and tricky-to-master art form. Katz and Rusbridger borrowed inspiration from The Wire The Wire, the cult US drama series set amid the high rises and drug dealers of Baltimore. The noir show was popular among some of the Guardian Guardian's staff; in it, the dealers typically relied on ”burners”, or pay-as-you-go phones, to outsmart the cops.

Katz therefore asked his a.s.sistant to go out and buy 20 burner phones for key members of the cables team. The Guardian Guardian now had its own leak-proof network. Unfortunately, n.o.body could remember their burner number. At one point Alan Rusbridger sent a text from his ”burner” to Katz's regular cellphone an elementary error that in now had its own leak-proof network. Unfortunately, n.o.body could remember their burner number. At one point Alan Rusbridger sent a text from his ”burner” to Katz's regular cellphone an elementary error that in The Wire The Wire would almost certainly have prompted the cops to swoop. The would almost certainly have prompted the cops to swoop. The Guardian Guardian editor picked up another burner during a five-day trip to Australia. When he got back to London Katz called him on that number. The conversation routed right round the world fizzled out after just three minutes when Katz ran out of credit. ”We were basically completely useless at any of the spooky stuff,” Katz confesses. editor picked up another burner during a five-day trip to Australia. When he got back to London Katz called him on that number. The conversation routed right round the world fizzled out after just three minutes when Katz ran out of credit. ”We were basically completely useless at any of the spooky stuff,” Katz confesses.

Like El Pais El Pais, the Guardian Guardian had deployed a team of experts and foreign correspondents for a thorough final sift through the cables. Some such as the had deployed a team of experts and foreign correspondents for a thorough final sift through the cables. Some such as the Guardian Guardian's Moscow correspondent Luke Harding were physically recalled to London for security reasons. Other foreign staff accessed the cables remotely via a VPN (virtual private network) connection. Ian Traynor in Brussels examined cables referring to the European Union, Nato and the Balkans; Declan Walsh, the Guardian Guardian's correspondent in Islamabad, looked at Afghanistan and Pakistan; David Smith did Africa and Jason Burke took on India.

Other reporters included Was.h.i.+ngton correspondent Ewen MacAskill and Latin America correspondent Rory Carroll in Caracas. (Carroll's VPN connection quickly packed up, making it impossible to eyeball the Chavez cables.) Simon Tisdall, Ian Black and Jonathan Steele, all immensely experienced, combed through the cables on the Middle East and Afghanistan. The sheer range of journalistic expertise that five major international papers were throwing at the data would perhaps demonstrate the value of the world's remaining MSM. They could be the genuine information professionals, standing out in an otherwise worthless universe of internet froth.

Sitting in the fourth-floor bunker, Harding and a colleague, reporter Robert Booth, were among those who would spend long hours staring, increasingly dizzy eyed, at the dispatches. It soon became clear that there was an art to interrogating the database. If your search term was too big say, ”Britain”, or ”corruption” the result would be unfathomably large. The search engine would announce: ”More than 1,000 items returned.” The trick was to use a relatively unusual name. Better still was to experiment with something off the wall, or even a bit crazy. Putting in ”Batman”, for example, yielded just two results. But one was a delightful cable in which a US diplomat noted that ”Dmitry Medvedev continues to play Robin to Putin's Batman.” The comparison between the Russian president and his prime minister would whizz round the world, and prompt a stung Vladimir Putin to accuse the United States of ”arrogance” and unethical behaviour.

Likewise, punching in the search term ”vodka” popped the cork on unexpected results: drunken meetings between US amba.s.sadors and central Asian despots; a memorable wedding in Dagestan in which Chechnya's president the murderous Ramzan Kadyrov danced with a gold-plated revolver stuck down his trousers; and a Saudi Arabian s.e.x party that spoke volumes about the hypocrisy of the Arab state's princely elite.

In contrast to the staccato jargon of the war logs, the cables were written in the kind of prose one might expect from Harvard or Yale. Harold Frayman had improvised the original search engine used to sift the much smaller Afghan and Iraq war logs. By now he had improved these techniques. ”I'm a journalist. I knew what we were going to look for,” he explains. ”Diplomats were much more verbose than squaddies in the field. They knew longer words.”

The data set contained more than 200 million of those words. Frayman had originally used the computer language Perl to design the Afghan and Iraq databases. He describes it as a ”very well developed set of bits of software ... It did little jobs very tidily.” For the cables Frayman added refinements. Journalists were able to search the cables sent out by individual emba.s.sies. In the case of Iran, which had not had a US mission since the 1970s, most of the relevant diplomatic chatter actually came out of the US emba.s.sy in Ankara. It was therefore helpful to be able to quickly collect up the Ankara emba.s.sy output.

Of the files, 40% were cla.s.sified confidential and 6% secret. Frayman created a search by five detailed categories: secret/noforn (that is, not to be read by non-Americans); secret; confidential/ noforn; confidential; and uncla.s.sified. There was no top-secret: such super-sensitive material had been omitted from the original SIPRNet database, along with a substantial number of dispatches that the state department in Was.h.i.+ngton considered unsuitable for sharing with its colleagues in the military and elsewhere. There were idiosyncrasies in the data: for example, very little material from Israel seemed to be circulated: suggesting that the US emba.s.sy there did not play an intimate role in the two-way dealings between Tel Aviv and Was.h.i.+ngton, and was largely kept out of the loop.

”Secret” was the place for the rummaging journalists to start. Some of these searches produced remarkable scoops. Many, however, did not. The secret category, it soon emerged, tended to cover a limited number of themes: the spread of nuclear material and nuclear facilities; military exports to Iran, Syria and other states considered unsavoury; negotiations involving top-ranking US army personnel. By far the largest number of stories came from lower cla.s.sified doc.u.ments.

Like the other reporters, Harding and Booth soon found themselves developing their own quirky search techniques. They discovered it was often useful to start at the bottom, working backwards from a country's most recent cables, written as they were up to 28 February 2010. Such searches became, however, an exercise in stamina; after reading a batch of more than 40 cables, the reporters had to take a break. Adjacent to the secret bunker was a free coffee machine. There was also a relaxation room. ”Here, after a long session of cable-bas.h.i.+ng, you could at least flick the sign to engaged, grab a cus.h.i.+on and lie groaning on the floor,” says Harding. Katz said the company would pay for ma.s.sages: but none of the Guardian Guardian's weary cable slaves had time to spare.

To editor-in-chief Alan Rusbridger, the abundant disclosures pouring out of the US cables at first seemed like a player hitting the jackpot every time in an amus.e.m.e.nt arcade. He recalled how Leigh after reading the material for a couple of weeks over the summer, chortling and astonished had come back with enough stories for 10 splashes, articles that could lead the newspaper front page. ”It was a fruit machine. You just had to hold your hat under there for long enough,” Rusbridger says.

The a.n.a.logy is a good one. But it perhaps makes the task sound too easy. To comb properly through the data, teams of Guardian Guardian staff had to be recruited. The reporters, especially the foreign correspondents, brought much to the table: contextualisation, specialist knowledge and a degree of entrepreneurs.h.i.+p in divining what to look for. All these skills were needed to turn the cables into significant newspaper stories. staff had to be recruited. The reporters, especially the foreign correspondents, brought much to the table: contextualisation, specialist knowledge and a degree of entrepreneurs.h.i.+p in divining what to look for. All these skills were needed to turn the cables into significant newspaper stories.

Leigh sent a memo to Rusbridger: We've now got to the stage of story selection on project 3. The previous exercises (Iraq and Afghanistan) worked well politically, I thought, because Nick and I were able to focus the coverage [and the resultant global coverage] on elements that it was highly in the public interest to make known.With Afghanistan, this was civilian casualties. With Iraq, it was torture. This time, I think it's also important that we try and major on stories that ought to be made known in the public interest. That was the compa.s.s-needle which helped me when I originally tried to put together the first dozen stories.So top stories revealing corruption and crime (Russia, Berlusconi, etc) and improper behaviour (eg unwarranted US pressure on other countries, unwarranted leaking to the US by other country officials). This will then position us where we can be best defended on all fronts??

A herd of publishable articles began to grow in size. The task of readying them for publication fell to Stuart Millar, the Guardian Guardian's web news editor, who says he felt like a harried cowboy. ”I was trying to la.s.so them into some kind of shape.” This was a far more complicated production problem than the similar exercise with the Iraq and Afghan war logs. At first, it had seemed the cables would yield just a hatful of stories. By the eve of D-day, Guardian Guardian journalists had produced more than 160 articles, with more coming in all the time. ”There was a crazy, enormous heave of copy,” Millar recalls. journalists had produced more than 160 articles, with more coming in all the time. ”There was a crazy, enormous heave of copy,” Millar recalls.

For Millar, as a web expert, it was clear that the emergence of the vast cables database marked the end of secrecy in the old-fas.h.i.+oned, cold-war-era sense. ”The internet has rendered that all history,” he reflects. ”For us, there was a special responsibility to handle the material carefully, and to bring context to the stories, rather than just dump them out.”

There were further concerns. The full text of relevant cables was intended to be posted online alongside individual news stories. This practice what a.s.sange called ”scientific journalism” was something the Guardian Guardian and some other papers had now been routinely doing for several years, ever since the technology had made it possible. and some other papers had now been routinely doing for several years, ever since the technology had made it possible.

Each reporter was now made responsible for ”redacting” their own cables blanking out from the original any sources who might have been put at risk if their names were published. Heads of state, well-known politicians, those in public life generally, were fair game as a rule. In some parts of the world, however the Middle East, Russia and central Asia, Iraq, Afghanistan and Pakistan to be seen even talking to the Americans was a risky proposition.

The cables team took a conservative approach. If there was seen to be a risk of someone being compromised, then the name was scrubbed out. This was at times frustrating: long, informative cables might be stripped down to a couple of dull paragraphs. But the alternative was far worse. Redactions were pa.s.sed on to Jonathan Ca.s.son, the paper's apparently miracle-working head of production, and his hara.s.sed-looking team, who set up camp in a neighbouring fourth-floor room normally used as a training suite. Rusbridger had suggested early on that each paper nominate a ”redactions editor” to ensure a belt and braces approach to protecting sources. Now Ca.s.son worked brutally long days comparing the Guardian Guardian's editing decisions with those of his counterparts, and considering the representations about particular cables from the US state department that were pa.s.sed on by the New York Times New York Times. The task was made vastly more difficult by the journalists' determination not to discuss cables on the phone or in emails; after his daily round of Skype calls with international partners, Ca.s.son would meticulously alter the colour of some of the 700 or so cables listed on a vast Google spreadsheet that only he could understand. He looked like a man close to the edge.

And then there were the legal risks. Could the Guardian Guardian be prosecuted under the British Official Secrets Act or the US Espionage Act? And, if so, would it have to hand over internal doc.u.ments and emails? Rusbridger had already sought the opinion of Alex Bailin, a QC who specialised in secrecy law, ahead of publication of the Afghan war logs. There had been no prosecution. But this did not mean that the White House would necessarily acquiesce in the far more damaging publication of the secret US state department cables. be prosecuted under the British Official Secrets Act or the US Espionage Act? And, if so, would it have to hand over internal doc.u.ments and emails? Rusbridger had already sought the opinion of Alex Bailin, a QC who specialised in secrecy law, ahead of publication of the Afghan war logs. There had been no prosecution. But this did not mean that the White House would necessarily acquiesce in the far more damaging publication of the secret US state department cables.

Geraldine Proudler, of the Guardian Guardian's law firm, Olsw.a.n.g, had been full of forebodings. Ahead of the publication of the Afghanistan and Iraq war logs she suggested it was ”entirely possible” the US could bring a prosecution against the Guardian Guardian under the Espionage Act though an all-out a.s.sault against the international media partners seemed unlikely. It was also possible the Americans could seek to lay hands on Rusbridger. ”In a worst case scenario we cannot rule out extradition attempts.” At the least, it was ”very likely” that the US might serve a subpoena demanding that the under the Espionage Act though an all-out a.s.sault against the international media partners seemed unlikely. It was also possible the Americans could seek to lay hands on Rusbridger. ”In a worst case scenario we cannot rule out extradition attempts.” At the least, it was ”very likely” that the US might serve a subpoena demanding that the Guardian Guardian hand over material after publication, she had advised. hand over material after publication, she had advised.

In addition to worrying about the risks of possible injunctions under the Official Secrets Act and the Espionage Act, Gill Phillips, the Guardian Guardian's in-house head of legal, spent many hours weighing up the libel and privacy dangers: both were big problems domestically, because the UK lacked the free speech protections enshrined in the US const.i.tution. The cables were fascinating, and credible as doc.u.ments. They revealed international skullduggery and double-dealing, among other things. But the fact they had been written by US diplomats didn't make them libel proof. Some of the cables from the former Soviet Union, Pakistan and Afghanistan made eye-popping a.s.sertions of top-level corruption, but could they land the Guardian Guardian with a costly writ? All had to be handled with care. with a costly writ? All had to be handled with care.

To a certain degree, Phillips could rely on the Reynolds defence, following a celebrated 1999 ruling that journalists were able to publish important allegations that could not be proved, so long as the material was in the public interest, the paper acted responsibly, and it followed proper journalistic procedures. (The case got its name after Albert Reynolds, the Irish premier, sued the London Sunday Times Sunday Times.) But the Reynolds judgment wasn't a Get Out of Jail Free card; in some cases the Guardian Guardian had still, if necessary, to be able to prove in court the truth of what it had published. had still, if necessary, to be able to prove in court the truth of what it had published.

Silvio Berlusconi was a case in point. The cables alleged that the controversial Italian prime minister had profited ”personally and handsomely” from a close the cables said too close relations.h.i.+p with Vladimir Putin, Russia's prime minister and former president. But might Berlusconi sue the Guardian Guardian in Rome, Phillips wondered? In the event, the Italian papers beat the in Rome, Phillips wondered? In the event, the Italian papers beat the Guardian Guardian to that one, and sprayed the detailed allegations all over the world. to that one, and sprayed the detailed allegations all over the world.

There were further considerations. Responsible journalists normally approach the person they are writing about before publication, giving them the opportunity for comment or even reb.u.t.tal. In this case, however, there was a big danger in going too soon. That would reveal the Guardian Guardian possessed the cables: the other, alerted party could immediately seek an injunction, on the grounds that the paper was in unlawful possession of confidential doc.u.ments. A sweeping UK gag order could be disastrous for the possessed the cables: the other, alerted party could immediately seek an injunction, on the grounds that the paper was in unlawful possession of confidential doc.u.ments. A sweeping UK gag order could be disastrous for the Guardian Guardian's journalism: it might scupper their entire cables project.

Phillips, and Jan Thompson, the Guardian Guardian's managing editor, held rambunctious meetings with the battle-scarred Leigh. His objective was to publish the best stories possible. The equally experienced lawyer's task was to keep the paper out of the courts and the editor out of jail. Leigh proposed what he thought were ingenious solutions to libel problems. Sometimes the lawyer agreed. It was a very fine line. ”We were incredibly careful legally, and responsible,” Phillips says. But ”legalling” the Guardian Guardian's cable stories was ”exhilarating”, she adds. ”You got completely sucked in. Suddenly you find yourself becoming an expert on all the world's governments.” Phillips felt confident in the end. She nevertheless arranged for both a QC and junior barrister to be on stand-by on the evening of the planned cables launch. Legal opponents had been known in the past to wake up British judges, fully prepared to issue gag orders against the Guardian Guardian, even in their pyjamas.

There was a final grand conference in London of all the parties on Thursday 11 November to fine-tune the elaborate publication grid of day-by-day cable stories. a.s.sange arrived in the Guardian Guardian offices rigged out this time in chief executive style, with a sharp, well-fitting blue suit. His Australian lawyer Jennifer Robinson was by his side. Representatives from offices rigged out this time in chief executive style, with a sharp, well-fitting blue suit. His Australian lawyer Jennifer Robinson was by his side. Representatives from Der Spiegel Der Spiegel, El Pais El Pais, and Le Monde Le Monde had flown in, together with Ian Fisher, a deputy foreign editor with the had flown in, together with Ian Fisher, a deputy foreign editor with the New York Times New York Times. In contrast to the difficult atmosphere at the last meeting, a.s.sange was a model of bonhomie and charm; Leigh, with whom he had previously had some angry words, decided to be absent with what some suspected to be a case of diplomatic flu. The meeting went surprisingly smoothly.

Afterwards, the partners again headed for dinner in the Rotunda restaurant beneath the Guardian Guardian offices. Here, as the journalists sank pints of Pilsner Urquell, a.s.sange confided he was thinking about going to Russia. Russia was an odd choice especially in the light of soon-to-be-published cables that described it as a ”virtual mafia state”. He did not disclose, however, details of the relations.h.i.+p he had privately struck up with WikiLeaks' new ”Russian representative”, the bizarre figure of Israel Shamir. offices. Here, as the journalists sank pints of Pilsner Urquell, a.s.sange confided he was thinking about going to Russia. Russia was an odd choice especially in the light of soon-to-be-published cables that described it as a ”virtual mafia state”. He did not disclose, however, details of the relations.h.i.+p he had privately struck up with WikiLeaks' new ”Russian representative”, the bizarre figure of Israel Shamir.

How much did the US administration know of this planned challenge to their secrets? The journalists a.s.sumed the CIA had followed every twist and turn of the project. The US army had certainly been aware that thousands of diplomatic cables had gone astray since the summer, when Private Bradley Manning had been specifically indicted for purloining them. But the Obama administration appeared remarkably unaware of just which cables WikiLeaks and its media partners now had in their possession.

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