A recent television drama series about the life of Kim Philby, the British Intelligence officer who engaged in treachery, attracted good reviews and enthusiastic viewers when it was screened, but contained few surprises for historians of the secret state. The production, A Spy Among Friends, first shown in 2022 and aired again since then, was based on the bestselling book of the same name by the newspaper journalist and respected historian Ben Macintyre, and starred Guy Pearce as Philby.
Interest in Philby’s life and career remains as lively as ever, and Macintyre’s book contained all the classic ingredients that helped translate this fascinating true-life story into entertaining drama.
The screening of the TV mini-series came in the wake of some intriguing new primary source evidence on Philby that became available back in 2019. A two-page confession made by Philby, who was a double-agent and one of the most infamous British traitors of the Cold War, was made public for the first time. It was part of a round of MI5 (Security Service) files released to The National Archives (TNA) at Kew, south-west London, in 2019, and the new material on Philby created considerable media and scholarly interest.
In the document, Philby (pictured) described the moment he was recruited by Russian Intelligence in 1934 and some of the subsequent ‘spycraft’ techniques he used as he rose through the ranks to become a top British Intelligence officer. The confession has helped historians of the Cold War fill a major gap in the story of Philby’s career as a Russian Intelligence spy, who was recruited as a young Cambridge University graduate and, functioning as a deep ‘mole’ for Moscow, ended up at the very heart of the British establishment, working for MI6 (the Secret Intelligence Service) – until he defected to the Soviet Union in 1963.
The revelation that Philby was a Soviet spy was hugely embarrassing for MI6 in 1963, and was yet another major scandal which served to undermine the then-Conservative government, which had seemingly become beset with sleaze and spy scandals. It also raised questions at the time about how Philby had managed to exploit his public school and class connections as a ‘gentleman’ in order to stay one step ahead (he was an Old Etonian, as were a number of other key officers in both MI5 and MI6).
Before he fled to Moscow in 1963, Philby handed his confession to MI6 officer and old friend Nicholas Elliot, who had been sent to Beirut to confront Philby with MI6’s growing suspicions that he was part of the Cambridge spy ring, a secret network that had included Guy Burgess and Donald Maclean (who had both defected to the Soviet Union in 1951).
MI6 Policy
The release of an MI6 document to the National Archives as part of an MI5 batch of files was highly unusual as, in contrast to MI5, MI6 have had a policy of not releasing secret ‘historical’ information into the public domain. This made the new material even more interesting for scholars.
In the confession, Philby listed the names of Communist friends at Cambridge that he was asked to ‘target’ as possible recruits for the OGPU (Soviet Intelligence), and also described where he would meet his ‘handler’ to pass on secrets: ‘Our meetings always took place in outlying districts of London, such as Ealing, Acton, Park Royal etc, and almost always in the open air’. Careful precautions were taken by both men, which often involved taking ‘at least three taxis both to and from the rendevouz to ensure that nobody followed’.
However, what also particularly interested historians was the information that Philby deliberately left out of his ‘confession’, such as the names of two members of the spy ring who had not yet been exposed: Anthony Blunt, who had become surveyor of the Queen’s pictures, and John Cairncross, who worked at the Treasury in Whitehall. In fact, Philby claimed in his confession that ‘Guy and Donald’ were the only two he had actually recruited, but this was evidently a deliberate lie on his part in order to mislead MI6 about the size of the spy ring and the extent to which the ring had operated successfully at the very heart of Whitehall.
Philby’s Revisionism
Interestingly, and possibly as another way of downplaying his own importance as a Russian spy, Philby also wrote that none of the (Soviet) officials with whom he had dealings ‘ever attempted to win my total acceptance of the party line’. He claimed: ‘All they required was rigid adherence to instructions on the technical level. In short, I joined the OGPU as one joined the army’.
Apparently, according to biographers of Philby such as the historian Ben Macintyre, Philby also claimed to Elliot that he had stopped working for Russia after the end of the Second World War, after he had ‘seen the error of his ways’. Yet, historians now know this was another of Philby’s blatant lies.
Indeed, it is worth remembering that, during his 30-year career as a Soviet spy deep at the heart of the British establishment, and especially after 1945, Philby was only too happy to betray his close friends and colleagues, as well as members of his own family. Moreover, while working as a top MI6 officer for the organisation’s East European desk, he betrayed numerous secrets that led to the deaths of hundreds and hundreds of anti-Communist agents, especially in Albania and elsewhere.
In 1968, Philby published a memoir, My Silent War, in which he sought to justify his treachery, but the book inevitably contained a selective and revisionist version of his career, and was treated with utmost care by historians. Philby also worked for the KGB as an instructor, teaching budding young Russian spies about the West and about the lessons of spycraft. In fact, Philby, who died in 1988, became a heroic figure for Russian Intelligence and was given a special funeral with full KGB honours in Moscow.
With an ex-KGB officer as president in Russia today, and the country’s continued and extensive use of espionage as a key arm of the state, interest in the historical dimension to this remains as important as ever. As far as I was concerned, the recent TV drama on Philby did full justice to Ben Macintyre’s meticulously researched book.
Dr. Steven Woodbridge is a Lecturer in History and Politics
(Images: Wikimedia Commons)
Note: An earlier version of this blog was first published here in September, 2019.
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