of possibility again that we had among ourselves. That is life’s risk, almost life’s certainty, though we set out nonetheless.
The issue of privacy would always haunt me. It haunts me now. At WikiLeaks, I would come to seem the arch-proponent of transparency, forever described as the man who thinks all privacy is bad. But it was never my position that all privacy is bad: rather the opposite. We fought, as cypherpunks, to protect people’s privacy. What I opposed, and continue to oppose, is the use of secrecy by institutions to protect themselves against the truth of the evil they have done. This is a clear distinction. Even in this book, where I try to tell my story as best I can, there will be moments of privacy, because I owe it to some greater sense of justice, to my children, for example, not to drag them into the limelight. Some people, in love with a category error, will wish to hold me to account on this score, as if the founder of WikiLeaks must, out of some bogus sense of consistency, blow the whistle on every element of his private self.
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