Media coverage and public interest in Julian Assange’s latest uncovering of a shitload of documents concerning the American-Afghan war seem to be way overblown, for what appears (after a cursory glance, there are more than 70 thousand of them) to be just accounting paperwork. Accounting of lost lives and destruction, but accounting nevertheless. America’s war is one of greed and petty interests, nothing glorious about it, nothing spectacular to reveal. To an outside observer, this might look like a careful mis-en-scène of a Hollywoodian spy flick, meant to create villains and heroes out of the dumb kids who went to fight in the desert and returned home covered in not just shame, but worse: instant oblivion. Nobody gives a fuck about them, they are in no way saviours of any country or ideal, there was no menace to defend their beloved homeland from to begin with, they were just sent out to collect on a protection tax that the Muslims stubbornly refuse to pay. I have noticed a single sane analysis of the deluge of documents, from Brendan O’Neill, an author who will go into my bookmarks tab: This is Truth as a religious-style revelation rather than Truth as the endpoint of thought, interrogation, question-asking, analysis. In reality, it is only through actively engaging with the world and its problems, through gathering facts and objectively analysing and organising them, that we can arrive at any Truth worth its name.

As for the sudden and chilling accusations that popped out immediately afterwards against Assange, the Guardian‘s dry humour is eloquent enough: It seems an unusual time to embark on a career of multiple rape.