Image: From Andreas Gaufer – 26c3 Wikileaks, CC BY 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=9478203
In this very long 2014 essay for London Review of Books, Andrew O’Hagan composed his experiences as a ghostwriter for Julian Assange.

I am sure that is what happens in most of his scrapes: he conducts onto a high-octane belief in his own rectitude and wisdom, only to find afterwards that others had their own views — of what’s sound journalism or pleasant sex — and the notion he could be complicit in his own wreck baffles him. Fact is, he was not in control of himself and many of what his colleagues said about him just might be true. He is thin-skinned, conspiratorial, untruthful, narcissistic, and he thinks he owns the substance that he conduits. It may turn out that Julian is not Daniel Ellsberg or John Wilkes, however Charles Foster Kane, abusive and monstrous in his pursuit of this fact that interests him, and a guy who, it turns out, has been motivated all the while not by high principles but by a profound sentimental wound. We will not know until the last frames of the film.