Everyone has a view on Assange. But, frankly, our views should be irrelevant. We, the public, are not in the know. We’re easily manipulated. We can be wrong. Assange is on trial in Belmarsh Magistrates Court, London. In theory, it’s just an extradition hearing, tasked with deciding whether the Brits will extradite Assange to the US. Although Britain’s extradition treaty with the US specifically excludes extradition for political offences, politics is everywhere. It’s there in the intention to try Assange on 18 espionage charges relating to the 2010 leaks (for which Chelsea Manning, who supplied the documents, has already been pardoned). Julian Assange being taken from court last year. Credit:AP It’s there in the Obama administration’s decision (says Assange’s defence) not to prosecute Assange for the Manning leaks, and in Trump’s reversal of that decision. It’s there in Trump’s alleged offer of a pardon if Assange agreed to forswear Russian influence. And in Britain's efforts to pretend that this is a standard crime, not a political one.

It’s there, too, in our own government’s cowardly refusal to help Assange – despite the AFP’s 2010 finding that he has broken no Australian law and a Department of Defence finding that he did not damage Australia’s security interests. This is no simple hearing. Everything about these proceedings, from the choice of courthouse to the conduct of the case itself, seems to confirm that. Like the hounding of poor Jewell, this is trial by intimidation and that fine instrument of justice, public opinion. Loading Britain has a long and noble tradition of law courts. The Fleet Street law courts in particular – properly known as the Royal Courts of Justice, designed by GE Street in the 1870s – imply in their very conformation the true and impartial rule of law. Deep in our child-hearts, most of us still believe this about Britain. But Belmarsh Magistrates Court says the opposite. An extradition hearing would normally be held at Westminster Magistrates Court, to symbolise links to high justice. Not this one. Belmarsh Magistrates Court, set within Woolwich Crown Court, sits on a windswept marsh within a three-prison complex, girdled by motorways and a high steel palisade.

A grim contemporary building built for terrorism offences, it is as far from any symbolic representation of democracy as can be imagined. Assange is manhandled into court from the adjacent prison via a secure tunnel. Here, says Murray, far from any attempt to represent the presumption of innocence, "you are already considered guilty and in jail on arrival". The courtroom offers only 16 public seats. To get one, you must queue in the miserable cold and dark for two hours before court opens at eight. Murray – a former British ambassador to Uzbekistan (2002-2004) who was himself hounded as a whistleblower after revealing mass political imprisonment and torture there – has done just that, in order to deliver a blow-by-blow eyewitness account of the hearing. Assange, who has been strip-searched and repeatedly handcuffed like some violent criminal, is not expected to speak during the four-week hearing. He sits alone at the back, quarantined inside a bulletproof glass case that impedes his view and hearing of proceedings and prevents any communication with his legal team. His private documents are confiscated, including privileged communications with his lawyer. Loading Murray’s accounts contains some astonishing observations. On day one, he says, the US prosecutor, James Lewis QC, explicitly addressed his opening remarks "not to the court but to the media". This is unprecedented. In this address, says Murray, Lewis explicitly denied that the espionage charges against Assange also threatened mainstream media like The Guardian and The New York Times. Later under questioning from the magistrate, Murray says, Lewis changed his mind and admitted that yes, they would be affected, but this part of his remarks was not offered to the media (who might well find such assertions alarming).