 I'm grateful to the organisers of today's international festival of whistle-blowing dissent for inviting me to take part, only wish I could be there live to share the day with you. I want to use this opportunity to talk about my experiences over the past two decades, working with new technology as an independent freelance journalist, one who abandoned or maybe more accurately was abandoned by what we usually call the mainstream media. Looking back over that period, I've come to appreciate that I was among the first generation of journalists to break free of the corporate media, in my case the Guardian, and ride this wave of new technology. In doing so, we liberated ourselves from the narrow editorial restriction such media imposes on us as journalists, and we're still able to find an audience, even if a diminished one. More and more journalists are following a similar path today, a few out of choice and more out of necessity as corporate media becomes increasingly unprofitable. But as journalists seek to liberate themselves from the strictures of the old corporate media, that same corporate media is working hard to characterise new technology as a threat to media freedoms. This self-serving argument should be treated with a great deal of scepticism. I want to use my own experiences to suggest that quite the reverse is true and that the real danger is allowing the corporate media to reassert its monopoly over narrating the world to us. I left my job at the Guardian newspaper group in 2001. Had I tried to become an independent journalist 10 years earlier than I did, it would have been professional suicide. In fact, it would have been a complete non-starter. I certainly would not be here telling you what it was like to have spent 20 years challenging the mainstream Western consensus on Israel-Palestine. Before the North is, without a platform provided by a corporate media outlet, journalists had no way to reach an audience, let alone create one. We were entirely beholden to our editors, and they in turn were dependent on billionaire owners, or in a few cases like the BBC's, a government, and on advertisers. When I arrived in Nazareth as a freelance journalist, but one with the continuing connections to the Guardian, I quickly found myself faced with a stark choice. Newspapers would accept relatively superficial articles from me, ones that accorded with a decades-old Western colonial mindset about Israel-Palestine. Had I contributed such pieces for long enough, I would probably have managed to reassure one of the papers that I was an obliging and safe pair of hands. Eventually, when a position fell vacant, I might have landed myself a well paid correspondence job. Instead, I preferred to write, authentically, for myself, reporting what I had observed on the ground, rather than what was expected of me by editors. That meant antagonising and gradually burning bridges with the Western media. Even in a digital era of new journalistic possibilities, there were few places to publish. I had to rely on a couple of what were then newly emerging websites that allowed very different narratives on Israel-Palestine from the Western corporate medias. The most prominent, at the time, which became the first proper home for my journalism, was Al-Aram Weekly, an English-language sister publication of the famous Cairo Daily newspaper. Few probably remember or read Al-Aram Weekly today, because it was soon overshadowed by other websites. But at the time, it was a rare online refuge for dissident voices and included a regular column for the great public intellectual Edward Said. It's worth pausing to think about how foreign correspondents operated in the pre-digital world. They not only enjoyed a widely-read, tightly-controlled platform and an establishment media outlet, but they had standing behind them a vitally important support structure. Their newspaper provided an archive and library service so that they could easily research historical and newsworthy events in their region. There were local staff who could help with locating sources and offering translations. They had photographers who contributed visuals to their pieces, and they had satellite phones to file breaking news from remote locations. None of this came cheap. A freelance journalist could never have afforded any of this kind of support. All that changed with the new technology, which rapidly leveled the playing field. A Google search soon became more comprehensive than even the best newspaper library. Mobile phones made it easy to track down and speak to people who were potential sources for stories. Digit cameras and then the same mobile phones meant it was possible to visually record events without needing a photographer alongside you. An email meant it was easy to file copy from anywhere and to anywhere in the world virtually free. The independent journalism I and others were developing in the early noughties was assisted by a new kind of political activist who was using similar novel digital tools. After I arrived in Nazareth, I had little use for the traditional access journalism my corporate colleagues cheekily relied on. Israeli politicians and military generals dissembled to protect Israel's image. Far more interesting to me were the young Western activists who had begun embedding before that term got corrupted by the behavior of corporate journalists in Palestinian communities. Today we remember names like Rachel Corrie, Tom Handel, Brian Avery, Victoria Aragoni, and many others for the fact that in the early noughties they were either killed or wounded by Israeli soldiers but they were part of a new movement of political activists and citizen journalists, many of them with the international solidarity movement who were offering a different kind of access. They used digital cameras to record and protest the Israeli army's abuses and war crimes from up close inside Palestinian communities, crimes that had previously gone unrecorded for Western audiences. They then sent their documentary evidence and their eyewitness accounts to journalists by email or published them on alternative websites. For independent journalists like me, their work was gold dust. We could challenge Israel's implausible accounts with clear-cut evidence. Sadly, most corporate journalists paid little attention to the work of these activists. In any case, their role was quickly snuffed out. That was partly because Israel learned that if it shot a few of them it would serve as a very effective deterrent warning others to keep away. But it was also because as technology became cheaper and more accessible, eventually ending up in mobile phones that everyone was expected to have, Palestinians could record their own suffering more immediately and without any mediation. Israel's dismissal of the early grainy images of the abuse of Palestinians by soldiers and settlers as Pallewood or Palestinian Hollywood became ever less plausible even to its own supporters. Soon, Palestinians were recording their mistreatment in high definition and posting it directly to YouTube. There was a parallel evolution in journalism. For the first eight years, I struggled to make any kind of living by publishing online. Egyptian wages were far too low to support me and Israel, and most alternative websites lacked the budget to pay. For the first years, I lived a Spartan life and dug into my savings from my former well-paid job at The Guardian. During this period, I also wrote a series of books because it was so difficult to find places to publish my news reporting. It was in the late 90s that Arab media in English, led by Al Jazeera, really took off with Arab states making the most of the new favorable conditions provided by the internet. These outlets flourished for a time by feeding the appetite among sections of the Western public for more critical coverage of Israel-Palestine and of Western foreign policy more generally. At the same time, Arab states exploited the revelations provided by dissident journalists to gain more leverage in Washington policy circles. My time with Al-Ram came to an abrupt end after a few years as the paper grew less keen on running hard-hitting pieces that showed Israel as an apartheid state or that explained the nature of its settler colonial ideology. Rumors reached me that the Americans were leaning on the Egyptian government and its media to tone down the bad news about Israel. It would be the first of many exits I had to make from these English-language Arab media outlets. As their Western readerships and visibility grew, they invariably attracted hostile attention from Western governments and sooner or later they capitulated. They were never more than fickle, unreliable allies to Western dissidents. Again, it would have been forced to abandon journalism had it not been for another technological innovation, the rise of social media. Facebook and Twitter soon rivaled the corporate media as platforms for news dissemination. For the first time, it was possible for journalists to grow their own audiences independently of an outlet. In a few cases, that dramatically changed the power relations in favor of those journalists. Glenn Greenwald is probably the most obvious example of this trend. He was chased first by the Guardian and then by the billionaire Pierre Omidyar to set up the Intercept. Now he's on his own using the editorially hands-off online platform, Substack. In a news environment driven chiefly by shares, journalists with their own large and loyal followings were initially prized. But they were also an implicit threat. The role of corporate media is to serve as a figurative sheepdog, herding journalists each day into an ideological pen, the publication they write for. There are minor differences of opinion and emphasis between conservative publications and liberal ones, but they all ultimately serve the same corporate, business-friendly, colonial, warmongering agenda. It is the publication's job, not the journalist, to shape the values and the worldview of its reader, over time limiting the range of possible thoughts they are likely to entertain. In the new environment of social media that has begun to change. Not only are some journalists becoming more influential than the papers they write for, but others are abandoning the employee-servant model completely. They've reached the conclusion that they no longer need a corporate outlet to reach an audience. They can publish themselves. They can build their own readership and they can generate their own income, freeing themselves from corporate servitude. In the last few years, this is the path I have pursued myself, becoming mostly reader finance. For most of us, it's a precarious option, but it's liberating too, in a way that no previous generation of journalists could ever have imagined possible. We are subject to no editorial oversight or control, apart from our own self-imposed sense of what is right, fair, or in some cases what we think our readers are ready to hear. We have no bosses or advertisers to please or appease. Our owner is the readership, and with an owner, that diverse and diffuse, we have been freed of the tyranny of billionaires and corporations. This new model of journalism is revolutionary. It's genuinely pluralistic media. It allows a much wider spectrum of thought to reach the mainstream than ever before. And perhaps even more importantly, it allows independent journalists to examine, critique, and expose the corporate media in real time, showing how little pluralism they allow and how often they resort to blatant falsehood and propaganda techniques. The fact that a few journalists and activists can so convincingly and easily tear apart the coverage of corporate media outlets reveals how little relationship that coverage often bears to reality. Corporate media took none of this lying down, of course, even if it was a while before they probably gauged the danger. Dissident journalists are a problem not only because they've broken free of the controls of the billionaire class and are often better at doing the job of building audiences than their corporate counterparts. Worse, dissident journalists are also educating readers so that they're better equipped to understand what corporate journalism is, that it is ideological prostitution. It's a reporting and commentary for hire by an establishment class. The backlash from the corporate media to this threat was not long coming. Criticism, narratively managed by corporate outlets, has sought to character assassinate dissident journalists and browbeat the social media platforms that host them. Reality has been inverted. Too often, it is the critical thinking of distant journalists that is maligned as fake news. And it is the genuine pluralism social media corporations have inadvertently allowed that is repudiated as the erosion of democratic values. Social media platforms have put up only the most feeble resistance to the campaign demanding that they crack down on the distance they've been hosting. They are, after all, media corporations too and have little interest in promoting free speech, critical thinking or pluralism. What resistance they did muster for a short time largely reflected the fact that their early business model was to replace top-down traditional media with a new bottom-up media that was essentially led by readers. But as social media has gradually been merged or incorporated into the traditional media establishment, it is preferred to join in the censorship and marginalize dissident journalists. Some of this was done out in the open with the banning of individuals or alternative sites. But more often it is done covertly through the manipulation of algorithms making dissident journalists all but impossible to find. All of us have seen our page views and shares plummet over the past two years as we lose the online battle against the same supposedly authoritative sources we've been exposing as fraudsters. The perverse self-serving discourse from establishment media about the new media is currently hard to miss in the relentless attacks on substack. This open platform hosts journalists and writers who wish to build their own audiences and fund themselves from reader donations. Substack is the logical conclusion of a path I and others have been on for two decades. It not only gets rid of the media sheepdog editors, it dispenses with the ideological pens into which journalists are supposed to be herded. James Ball, whose sordid history includes acting as the Guardian's hatchet man on WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange, was a predictable choice as a Guardian group tried this month to discredit substack. Here is Ball ridiculously fretting about how greater freedom for journalists might damage Western society by stoking so-called culture wars. Here he is. Concerns are emerging about what substack is now exactly. Is it a platform for hosting newsletters and helping people discover them? Or is it a new type of publication, one that relies on stoking the culture wars to help divisive writers build devoted followings? Being on substack has for some become a tacit sign of being a partisan in the culture wars, not least because it's a lot easier to build a devoted and paying following by stressing that you're giving readers something the mainstream won't. Ball is the kind of second-rate stenographer who would have had no journalistic career at all when wearing not a hired gun for a corporate publication like the Guardian. Buried in his piece is the real reason for his and the Guardian's concern about substack. Such is substack's recent notoriety, but people are now worrying that it might be the latest thing that might kill traditional media. Notice the heavy lifting that word people is doing in the quoted sentence. Not you or I. People refers to James Paul and the Guardian. But of course, the grave is danger to medium freedom lies beyond any supposed culture wars. As the battle for narrative control intensifies, there is much more at stake than name calling and even skewed algorithms. In a sign of how far the political and media establishment are willing to go to stop dissident journalism, a journalism that seeks to expose corrupt power and hold it to account. They've been making examples of the most significant journalists of the new era by prosecuting them. WikiLeaks founder Julian Assange has been out of sight for a decade, first as a political asylum seeker, then as an inmate of a British prison, subjected to endless shifting pretexts. First, it was a rape investigation that no one wanted to pursue. Then it was a minor bail infraction. And more recently, as the other pretext have passed theirself by date, it has been for exposing US war crimes in Iraq and Afghanistan. Assange could language in jail for years to come. Former UK Ambassador Craig Murray, a chronicler through his blog of the legal abuses Assange has suffered, has faced his own retribution from the establishment. He's been prosecuted and found guilty in a patently nonsensical Jigsaw identification case. My cake talk has been recorded too early to know the outcome of Murray's sentencing hearing, which was due to take place the day before this festival. But the treatment of Assange and Murray has sent a clear message to any journalist inspired by their courage and their commitment in holding establishment power to account. You will pay a severe price. You will lose years of your life and mountains of money fighting to defend yourself. And then ultimately we can and will lock you away. The West elites will not give up corrupt institutions that uphold their power without a fight. We would be foolish to think otherwise. But new technology has offered us new tools in our struggle, and it has redrawn the battleground in ways that no one could have predicted even a decade ago. The establishment of being forced into a game of whack-a-mole with us. Each time they bully or dismantle a platform we use, another one, like Substack, springs up to replace it. That is because they will always be journalists determined to find a way to peek behind the curtain to tell us what they have found. And there will always be audiences who want to learn what is behind that curtain. Supply and demand are on our side. The constant acts of intimidation and violence by political and media elites to crush media pluralism in the name of democratic values will serve only to further expose the hypocrisy and bad faith of the corporate media and its hired hands. We must keep struggling because the struggle itself is a form of victory. Thank you for listening and I hope you enjoy today's festival.