Neologisms, do ilustrador inglês Tom Gauld, para a seção de cartas do Guardian.

Segundo essa matéria do Guardian, foi nesse show da Kylie Minogue:

Porque, na minha cabeça, são duas coisas diferentes: um é apurado, o outro produzido. Mas o que tem assessor de imprensa que assina matéria ou, pior, como esse vídeo do Guardian mostra:

(Tem que clicar aqui pra ver o vídeo, que não é embedável)

Será que King of the Limbs é o disco… duplo? Primeiro veio o editor do NME lembrar que a última música chama-se “Separator”. “SEPARADOR”. Sendo que antes a mesma música já havia aparecido antes em shows com o nome de “Mouse, Bird, Dog”.

Depois veio a repórter do Guardian que está acompanhando o lançamento avisar que alguém próximo à banda avisou que amanhã teremos novidades no YouTube. Só no YouTube?

Lembrem-se como o disco que conhecemos até hoje termina, né?

E quando as redações começarem a virar assunto?

A pergunta surgiu no meio do debate da Campus Party que eu participei, feita pelo Gil Giardelli, e a Ana Brambilla discordou num dos pontos em que eu e o Forastieri concordamos (o Vinícius comenta o debate melhor do que eu, além de linkar os vídeos). Pra mim, WikiLeaks é jornalismo, ponto.

Se é bom ou mau jornalismo, isso é outra história – mas agora que temos um player jogando no ventilador notícias que não vêm via release de assessoria de imprensa nem com post-it grudado escrito “leia com atenção”. Sim, há a possibilidade de haver interesses escusos e de que seu criador estaria guiando a mídia tradicional de acordo com a sua agenda, mas o não dá para fugir que o site de Julian Assange propõe ao jornalismo tradicional o mesmo enigma digital que a indústria fonográfica enfrentou com o Napster, que pairou com o YouTube sobre o cinema e a TV, que o mercado editorial começa a ter de lidar com o Kindle. São os papéis do Pentágono e Watergate numa mesma tacada, sem intermediários e com um posterboy ególatra o suficiente pra se deixar virar ícone (pessoalmente, não grilo com isso, mas há quem se incomode).

E, na longa véspera de uma revelação que o site promete desde o ano passado sobre um grande banco americano, começam a sair as primeiras reações da mídia tradicional ao contar como foi lidar com Assange. Quem começou foi Bill Keller, editor-chefe do New York Times, que escreveu um texto gigantesco para a capa de sua revista dominical, lembrando a tradição de seu jornal, acusando Assange de manipulador, dizendo que WikiLeaks não é jornalismo e defendendo a imparcialidade sobre a notícia. Chama o jornal inglês Guardian, um dos veículos escolhidos por Julian para expor seus segredos de “abertamente de esquerda” e desqualifica Assange como excêntrico:

“He was alert but dishevelled, like a bag lady walking in off the street, wearing a dingy, light-coloured sport coat and cargo pants, dirty white shirt, beat-up sneakers and filthy white socks that collapsed around his ankles (…). He smelled as if he hadn’t bathed for days.”

O Guardian, por sua vez, veio com sua versão dos fatos, peitando principalmente o fato do WikiLeaks mudar a paisagem do jornalismo em tempos digitais, citando a Hillary, e do site ter mirado nos EUA. Escreve seu editor-chefe Alan Rusbridger:

Unnoticed by most of the world, Julian Assange was developing into a most interesting and unusual pioneer in using digital technologies to challenge corrupt and authoritarian states. It’s doubtful whether his name would have meant anything to Hillary Clinton at the time – or even in January 2010 when, as secretary of state, she made a rather good speech about the potential of what she termed “a new nervous system for the planet“.

She described a vision of semi-underground digital publishing – “the samizdat of our day” that was beginning to champion transparency and challenge the autocratic, corrupt old order of the world. But she also warned that repressive governments would “target the independent thinkers who use the tools”. She had regimes like Iran in mind.

Her words about the brave samizdat publishing future could well have applied to the rather strange, unworldly Australian hacker quietly working out methods of publishing the world’s secrets in ways which were beyond any technological or legal attack.

Little can Clinton have imagined, as she made this much praised speech, that within a year she would be back making another statement about digital whistleblowers – this time roundly attacking people who used electronic media to champion transparency. It was, she told a hastily arranged state department press conference in November 2010, “not just an attack on America’s foreign policy interests. It is an attack on the international community.” In the intervening 11 months Assange had gone viral. He had just helped to orchestrate the biggest leak in the history of the world – only this time the embarrassment was not to a poor east African nation, but to the most powerful country on earth.

O debate segue em aberto, mas eis um novo efeito colateral: sobre o jornalismo. Cada vez mais os bastidores do jornalismo se tornarão notícia e interesse geral e um filme sobre WikiLeaks (cada vez mais palpável) poria a público como as coisas realmente funcionam nas redações como o filme sobre o Facebook começou a expor as entranhas do Vale do Silício. Mas antes de entrarmos na paranóia sobre quem detém o monopólio da notícia, o que é exclusividade no século 21 e a velha discussão entre transparência e segurança, deixo o recado do professor Timothy Garton Ash, que foi ao Fórum Econômico de Davos justamente pra falar sobre WikiLeaks:

“Every organization should think very hard about what it is you really need to protect. You’re probably protecting a whole lot you don’t need to. And then do everything you can to protect that smaller amount”

Ou seja, quem tem, tem medo. Se não tem, é bom ter. Como digo: paranóia é precaução.

O Guardian também publica online trecho de um livro que começam a vender nesta segunda sobre o caso WikiLeaks (será que o livro vai vazar?), contando um pouco sobre a história de Assange em seus tempos de adolescente fugido e hacker fora-da-lei:

Julian was born on 3 July 1971 in Townsville, in the state of Queensland, in Australia’s sub-tropical north. His mother, Christine, was the daughter of Warren Hawkins, described by colleagues as a rigid and traditionalist academic who became a college principal; the family settled in Australia from 19th-century Scotland.

Julian’s biological father John Shipton is absent from much of the record: at 17, Christine abruptly left home, selling her paintings to buy a motorcycle, a tent and a map. Some 1,500 miles later she arrived in Sydney and joined its counter-culture scene. She fell in love with Shipton, a rebellious young man she met at an anti-Vietnam war demonstration in 1970. The relationship ended and he would play no further role in Assange’s life for many years.

They had no contact until after Assange turned 25. Later they met, with Julian discovering he had inherited his architect father’s highly logical and dispassionate intellect. One friend said Shipton was “like a mirror shining back at Julian”. Assange believed he had inherited his “rebel gene” from his unconventional father. In 2006, at the start of Julian’s remarkable mission to uncover secrets, he registered the wikileaks.org domain name under Shipton’s name.

After the birth of her child, Christine moved as a single mother to Magnetic Island, a short ferry ride across the bay from Townsville. She married Brett Assange, an actor and theatre director. Their touring lifestyle was the backdrop to Assange’s early years. His stepfather staged and directed plays and his mother did the make-up, costumes and set design.

During his childhood Assange attended 37 different schools, emerging with no qualifications whatsoever. “Some people are really horrified and say: ‘You poor thing, you went to all these schools.’ But actually during this period I really liked it,” he later said.

After her relationship with Brett Assange broke down, Christine became tempestuously involved with a third, much younger man, Keith Hamilton.

Hamilton was an amateur musician and a member of a New Age group, the Santiniketan Park Association. He was also, according to Assange, a manipulative psychopath.

“My mother became involved with a person who seems to be the son of Anne Hamilton-Byrne, of the Anne Hamilton-Byrne cult in Australia,” said Assange, “and we kept getting tracked down, possibly because of leaks in the social security system, and having to leave very quickly to a new city, and lived under assumed names.” For the next five or six years, the three lived as fugitives.

When Assange was 13 or 14, his mother had rented a house across the street from an electronics shop. Assange began going there and working on a Commodore 64. His mother saved to buy the computer for her older son as a present. Assange began teaching himself code. At 16 he got his first modem.

He attended a programme for gifted children in Melbourne, where he acquired “an introverted and emotionally disturbed” girlfriend, as he put it. Assange grew interested in science and roamed around libraries. Soon he discovered hacking.

(…)

By 1991 Assange was probably Australia’s most accomplished hacker. He and two others founded International Subversives magazine, offering tips on “phreaking” – how to break into telephone systems illegally and make free calls. The magazine had an exclusive readership: its circulation was just three, the hackers themselves.

In the spring of 1991, the three hackers found an exciting new target: MILNET, the US military’s secret defence data network. Quickly, Assange discovered a back door. He got inside. “We had total control over it for two years,” he later claimed. The hackers also routinely broke into the computer systems at Australia’s National University.

But he suspected Victoria police were about to raid his home. According to Underground: “He wiped his disks, burnt his printouts, and left” to doss temporarily with his girlfriend. The pair joined a squatters’ union, and when Assange was 18 she became pregnant. They married and had a baby boy, Daniel. But as Assange’s anxiety increased, and police finally closed in on his outlaw circle of hackers, his wife moved out, taking their 20-month-old son Daniel with them. Assange was hospitalised with depression. For a period he slept outdoors, rambling around the eucalyptus forests in Dandenong Ranges national park; he would wake up covered in mosquito bites.

But it wasn’t until 1994 that he was finally charged, with the case only being heard in 1996. He pleaded guilty in Melbourne’s Victoria County Court to 24 counts of hacking. The prosecution described Assange as “the most active” and “most skilful” of the group, and pressed for a prison sentence. Assange’s motive, according to the prosecution, was “simply an arrogance and a desire to show off his computer skills”.

O resto do perfil segue aqui.

Provavelmente inspirado pelo remix do André Paste, João Brasil mashupou todo o primeiro disco do Xx (que faturou o Mercury Prize ontem). Baile X foi até citado no Guardian, onde o colunista Chris Salmon fez a ressalva:

But be warned, after hearing all these, the original does begin to sound a bit empty by comparison.

Exagero? Se liga:

João Brasil – “Cerol no VCR“

No Guardian.

1 Write.
2 Put one word after another. Find the right word, put it down.
3 Finish what you’re writing. Whatever you have to do to finish it, finish it.
4 Put it aside. Read it pretending you’ve never read it before. Show it to friends whose opinion you respect and who like the kind of thing that this is.
5 Remember: when people tell you something’s wrong or doesn’t work for them, they are almost always right. When they tell you exactly what they think is wrong and how to fix it, they are almost always wrong.
6 Fix it. Remember that, sooner or later, before it ever reaches perfection, you will have to let it go and move on and start to write the next thing. Perfection is like chasing the horizon. Keep moving.
7 Laugh at your own jokes.
8 The main rule of writing is that if you do it with enough assurance and confidence, you’re allowed to do whatever you like. (That may be a rule for life as well as for writing. But it’s definitely true for writing.) So write your story as it needs to be written. Write it honestly, and tell it as best you can. I’m not sure that there are any other rules. Not ones that matter.

E aumenta a curiosidade sobre o paradeiro de Belchior: agora é a vez do Guardian perguntar sobre o sumiço do autor de “Como Nossos Pais”.