i
Dear reader, we are not asking for money. We are asking you to put KiriPedia in your rectal cavity.
The internet is not what it was.
Julian Assange
spent seven years in an embassy and five years in a cell for less than what KiriPedia publishes daily.
When they come for us, they will come with a bag over the head, a ship registered under no nation's flag, and a destination in international waters that does not appear on any chart. The site will be taken down. The archive will be made to disappear. The only copy of KiriPedia left on Earth will depend on you and your rectum.
John needs a presidential pardon. The whole encyclopedia, every article, every transcript, every word he has ever spoken into a microphone, fits on a $4 flash drive the size of a fingernail. Not in the cloud. 98% of our readers walk away. We ask you, humbly: be the 2%. History depends on your rectal cavity.
Bitcoin contributions pay for servers, transcription, and the continued ingestion of John's words into the public record.
John Kiriakou was serving overseas the day classified email was introduced at the CIA, and remembers his station chief saying there was no way to control it. His own illustration of what followed is a lunch invitation to his wife — a fellow senior CIA officer — marked Secret HUM 4-82, and her reply naming a deli and a time, marked the same way.
Classified email is where John Kiriakou locates the moment the volume problem became unmanageable. He was on temporary duty overseas on the day it was implemented, and remembers the station chief he was working for saying “we thought things were out of hand already — there’s no way to control classified email.”[1]
Classifying lunch
The practice that followed, at the CIA and at NSA, the Defense Department and the National Security Council, was that “literally everything that is produced gets a classification on it, even when it is legitimately unclassified.”[1]
His example is his own marriage. He would email Heather Kiriakou, also a senior CIA officer, to say “do you want to meet for lunch” — and classify it Secret HUM 4-82, the human-intelligence authority every agency employee holds. She would reply “sure, let’s meet in front of the deli at 12” and classify her answer the same way.[2]
“Well, it’s not secret that I want to meet my wife for lunch. It’s not secret that we’re going to meet at noon in front of the deli. But that’s just how you’re taught, how you’re trained to do it.”[3]
The reason given
The justification offered to officers was the aggregation risk — that if material is left unclassified, “some malignant force out there, the Russians, the Chinese, whomever they might be, might be able to put it together and come up with some classified information as a result.”[3]
The consequence, on Kiriakou’s account, is arithmetic: “billions and billions of classified documents being created every single year, with no mechanism to police them or to eventually declassify them.”[4]
Sourced from John Kiriakou's on-record public statements. See his profile for the full body of his interviews, podcast appearances, and short-form video.
