Waiting for Julian: Assange-mania comes to Canberra

Pity the unsuspecting guests who simply wanted to check into their hotel room, enjoy an overpriced snack from the mini bar and have an early night.

History arrived at the East Hotel, a 10-minute walk from Parliament House in the nation’s capital, on Wednesday night. So did Assange-mania. As for Julian Assange himself, no one had a clue where he was. If they did, they weren’t telling.

Julian Assange’s wife Stella arrives at a press conference at the East Hotel in Canberra.Credit: James Brickwood

Like iron filings to a magnet, journalists and Assange admirers were drawn by a tweet to this trendy hotel ($300 a night, 4.5 stars on Google, a stylish martini and pizza bar downstairs). “Media Alert: WikiLeaks press conference 21.15 Australian Eastern time (GMT+10z) East Hotel Canberra, Kingston ACT, Australia,” WikiLeaks alerted the organisation’s 5.2 million followers on X, formerly known as Twitter, at 2.17pm.

Earlier in the day, the Northern Mariana Islands, where Assange pleaded guilty to a felony count of disseminating classified information, was the place to be. Now the circus had arrived at the East Hotel. Across the road, The Kingston Hotel – a popular down-to-earth pub known to locals only as “The Kingo” – was packed with rugby league nuts in blue and maroon jerseys watching the State of Origin.

At first, it seemed that Assange himself would speak at the press conference. By early evening it was clear he would not. Still, the crowd in the foyer kept swelling as reporters, rubberneckers and transparency warriors descended upon the site hoping to witness a man admired and detested by so many. Outside in the frigid cold, television reporters beamed back live crosses to their studios after hotfooting it from the Royal Australian Air Force Fairbairn base where Assange’s private jet had just landed. Standing on Australian soil for the first time in 15 years, he delivered a triumphant raised fist and embraced his wife Stella.

Among those gathered at the East were independent MP Zoe Daniel, Labor MP Josh Wilson, plus Greens senators David Shoebridge and Jordon Steele-John. Assange has attracted a sizeable share of right-wing supporters in recent times – including Trump loyalists like US congresswoman Marjorie Taylor Greene – but this was a decidedly left-leaning crowd, full of non-conformists distrustful of the media and disdainful of the military-industrial complex. Nasser Mashni, the president of the Australia Palestine Advocacy Network, was there in a keffiyeh.

But where was Assange himself? Like in a Samuel Beckett play, the protagonist was off-stage, an enigma growing only more compelling by being invisible.

Journalist James Surowiecki famously wrote about the wisdom of crowds, but they make mistakes too. As the press conference time approached, a frenzied sense of anticipation built. No one wanted to miss the shot of Assange emerging from the elevator. A surge of excitement suddenly jolted through the crowd. Was it Assange? No, it was just a jolly young reporter from News Corp.

In the information void, speculation flourished. Confident sources insisted Assange was not staying at the hotel at all, but had been whisked away to a secret location. Could he be holed up at the Russian embassy, one cynical scribe joked.

Then Stella Assange appeared, alongside Assange’s lawyers Jennifer Robinson and Barry Pollack. It had been a long journey from London to Canberra – via Bangkok and Saipan – and they were tired. TV screens behind them displayed QR codes for a fundraising appeal to cover the cost of Assange’s #freedomflight to Australia (a monumental $770,000 according to Assange’s team).

Stella pleaded for privacy and for journalists around the world to campaign for a presidential pardon for her husband. The room was at full capacity, but those outside tried to push in like 1970s partygoers desperate for a dance at Studio 54. The raucous din from the crowd outside made it difficult to hear what the speakers were saying. Even moderately tough questions from the journalists in the room – had Assange put lives at risk through his disclosures? – were met with loud grumbles from some Assange fans. They wanted a love-in, not a press conference.

Afterwards, those still elated by Assange’s vertiginous pathway to freedom kicked on for beers and martinis at the hotel bar. As for Assange, we were none the wiser. After 12 years he is no longer a captive, but an international man of mystery once more.

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