Spycatcher - Peter Wright (with Paul Greengrass)

 In surveying the books on my shelves, I have been identifying those works which have thus far escaped my full and intensive attention. One such tome was Spycatcher, the "memoirs" of the former British intelligence (MI5) officer Peter Wright. This book is perhaps best remembered for the media and political storm which accompanied its original publication back in the 1980s.

Wright provides some enlightening biographical information, with hints that he didn't altogether fit the typical pattern of a British intelligence office from those days, in terms of background and outlook. 

It is the case that since the book was published, some observers have sought to question the veracity of Wright's views concerning the supposed high-level Soviet penetration of MI5.  I did make allowances for the criticisms of Wright and his book, but I still found it to be an illuminating and interesting read. The tone of the book is rather less "antagonistic" and uniformly "truculent" than I had anticipated. 

On the surface, Wright seems sincere and constructive in what he says about the shortcomings in procedure and methodology within the security services, both before and during his time, and he seems to have been world-weary and pragmatic from quite an early stage. His recollections also bring home the relentless, all-pervasive nature of Cold War espionage, but also how thoroughly mundane and 'routine' most of the activity actually was. 

As I worked my way through Spycatcher, I found myself wondering to what extent espionage was regarded as a 'game' and an 'end' in itself, rather than as a means to an end. After all, the operatives were supposed to be, ultimately, acting in our interests, but maybe the thrill and stimulus of the 'game' were required to enable the spies and officers to function in such as way as to be effective in discharging their duties.

More than a little space is taken up with less than thrilling descriptions of how certain technical gadgetry was developed, though things are enlivened by amusing anecdotes about how such equipment was installed and concealed. Some of the innovations sounded distinctly 'James Bond', others more 'Heath Robinson'.

As someone whose world-view has shifted to the left of centre in recent times, due to personal experiences and lengthy study and contemplation, I was occasionally left wondering about the purpose and the result of the British espionage and counter-espionage activity. 

Moral and ethical misgivings apart, it is impossible not to admire the resourcefulness and ingenuity of the operatives. Whatever we may think of the motives behind their activities, it plainly required intellect, finesse and no little resilience.

I quite liked Peter Wright's stories about his interactions with notable figures in the American intelligence community, especially James Angleton. 

A feature of the story, particularly in Wright's early days in the service, was the apparent informality of how he and his colleagues went about accomplishing their tasks; utilizing contacts and networking to obtain assistance and expedite investigations. The world seems to have been less rigidly "procedural" back then.

Occasionally, Wright places counterespionage episodes into a broader strategic or geopolitical context, such as the implications for arms control. These were some of the most impressive passages in the entire book.

The perception which emerges overall is that Soviet Union was "on the front foot" for the majority of the time, although in truth this does not come as a drastic revelation to me in 2021. One system was on the defensive, some might say by its very nature.

Whatever the substance of the book's central claims, it is difficult not to be captivated by imaginings of what it was like in intelligence and related circles, especially between the world wars. The idealism, the turbulence of the times, and also the feverishly tenuous existence of some of the individuals involved. Being righteous and committed was not always the tranquil and easy route.

I have to say that there is real drama in the chapters which deal with important interrogations, or with meetings which Mr Wright attended with luminaries of the secret world. Equally, one can sense the frustration when politics, or even more sinister motives, inhibited the path to efficiency or justice. It may be the case that, in this arena, objective truth is an elusive thing.

There is something rather poignant and affecting about the closing chapters, as Wright's career draws to its close. There is a changing of the guard, a shifting of priorities within the security services, and loose ends remaining unresolved. We also gain an idea of how the intelligence agencies "interfaced" with Whitehall, and the intrigues which this entailed.

Even when taking parts of the book with a pinch of salt, I found Spycatcher to be quite gripping, and I am glad that I took the trouble to read it in full.

Operation Mincemeat - Ben Macintyre

I have become a touch wary of stories about World War Two espionage and subterfuge, as grandiose and excessive claims are often made for the value or import of certain missions or initiatives. However, "Operation Mincemeat", instigated by British Naval Intelligence in 1943, to support the impending landings in Sicily, possesses elements which make it stand out from the crowd. Ben Macintyre's book on the subject therefore became essential reading.

 

In short, "Operation Mincemeat" was a deception scheme arranged by British intelligence, as a means of keeping the German High Command guessing about Allied intentions in the Mediterranean region, in the wake of the conquest of North Africa. To facilitate this, an ingenious and elaborate, if somewhat macabre, operation was mounted, whereby a human corpse was washed up on the Spanish coast, bearing various "fake" and "planted" letters and documents, in the hope that said items would find their way into German hands, and impact upon the Reich's military decisions in accordance with Allied wishes.

 

 

I had previously been aware of this episode, but the book fleshes out the matter considerably, and delivers a penetrating insight into several aspects of the war . The ambiguous and complicated Spanish role, the intricacies of espionage, the various chains of command, overlapping responsibilities and the sometimes petty rivalries and jealousies which constantly threatened to hinder projects of massive importance.

 

Approximately halfway through "Operation Mincemeat", my judgement was still reserved, as I had a feeling of dread about the conclusions which might be reached. There is a natural tendency amongst authors to make outlandish claims for the success or achievement of the enterprise which they are championing or seeking to bring to a wider audience. I am glad to say that in this case my fears proved to be groundless, as Macintyre is realistic, balanced and honest in his assessments of how much "Mincemeat" ultimately accomplished, acknowledging that other factors contributed to Allied success, and that this was just part of a larger overall deception programme.

This is emphatically NOT one of those ".....Who Fooled Hitler" jobs which have begun to populate the bookshelves and broadcast schedules in recent times. Macintyre's approach is much more nuanced and honest. He does not pretend that everything went swimmingly from beginning to end from the Allied viewpoint.

 

The Axis commitment of troops to North Africa in late 1942, and the consequent number of prisoners taken by the Allies in Tunisia, had arguably left Sicily exposed just as much as any decision by the German High Command to divert resources to Greece and Sardinia later on. The author correctly observes that the "Mincemeat" information merely helped to solidify attitudes and prejudices already harboured by Hitler and some of his colleagues. At the absolute minimum, and on balance of evidence, the plan positively benefited the Allies in the Mediterranean, albeit temporarily, as the twin forces of the terrain of mainland Italy, and the astute defensive tactics deployed by their opponents, soon meant much frustration further north.

 

The writing style is not particularly "scholarly", and some may find the tone a little shallow and "populist" in places. I thought that the author tried a little too hard at times to make every character or key player conform to stereotypes or caricatures of loveable eccentricity on the British side or clownish venality elsewhere. Having said that, it is never less than entertaining and absorbing, and several intriguing sub-plots are kept bubbling.

 

It is interesting to note the implication that anti-Nazi elements in German intelligence may have knowingly and deliberately misrepresented the meaning and/or contents of the "Mincemeat" documents, in order to frustrate or deceive their superiors. To be honest, I was expecting to be told that Wilhelm Canaris played a more direct role in the affair, given some of his well-documented activities, but seemingly he did not.

 

If you are interested in espionage or history, or just like a jolly good read, this book is recommended. I breezed through it quickly - always a good sign!

 

Funeral In Berlin - Len Deighton

The Cold War is such an inherently captivating and dramatic setting that is tempting to say that even a writer of mediocre talents should be capable of turning out a moderately praiseworthy spy novel set in the period. In reality, a high degree of suppleness.finesse and knowledge is required to write a convincing and exciting one, and but few are endowed with these capabilities. One of the people possessing these talents is Len Deighton, author of Funeral In Berlin.

The initial plot of Funeral In Berlin centres on a plan to arrange the defection of an eminent Soviet scientist to the West, via certain "intermediaries".  However, the waters become muddied, as the murky and equivocal backgrounds of some characters are gradually unfurled. The shadow of the death-camps, collaboration and war-crimes soon descends. On several levels, I detected echoes of this book in Frederick Forsyth's later novel The Odessa File.

The beginning of the story is suitably enigmatic, helping to convey the shifty, subterranean world of espionage.  The eccentricities, the double lives, the solitude, the boredom and the loneliness. There is shrewdly sparse exposition, dropping miniscule morsels, for instance leading the reader to be inquisitive about the importance, or otherwise, of various characters.

Many of the spy thrillers of the era portray London as a grim, monochrome and austere place.  Funeral In Berlin partially follows this trend, but there are a few definite splashes of Swinging Sixties optimism and style. In this novel, Deighton also creates a vivid sensation of a Berlin full of contrasts, vibrancy and character, more freewheeling and "technicolour" than is often depicted.

Another intriguing aspect of the story is the series of references to the development of the post-war German psyche, at what some might describe as a transitional point between the aftermath of the war and the blossoming of the new, modern, prosperous Germany.  A time of tension, opportunity and confusion, where the ambition and self-confidence of certain people helps to mask their deep-seated fears or guilt.

I would say that the plot of Funeral In Berlin is less intellectually arduous than some other espionage thrillers, but the storyline is no less clever for all that. Rather than being rigidly taxing and impenetrable , it consists of a series of fluid jigsaw pieces, each carrying strong hints, with a few different permutations available. It is simply a case of the segments becoming joined, although some elements of the overall picture are still a little ambiguous, and left to the imagination of the reader, at the end.

This was the first Len Deighton work which I have read, and I was greatly impressed by his whimsical style in painting pictures with words, and scene-setting. Real care is exercised in fleshing out the characters to make them seem plausible and human, and a clever ploy is to emphasize traits or eccentricities of players, which eventually turn out to be red herrings, but enhance the overall tapestry and atmosphere.

A nice touch was the series of chess analogies, both by way of the quotations introducing each chapter, and the references to the game in the "dialogue".  One of those things which contributes towards lifting something above the ordinary.

I didn't find Funeral In Berlin to be quite as suspenseful or pulsating as some thrillers which I could mention, but then again it probably wasn't intended as a thriller, but a spy novel.  Judged on those terms, it is a very enjoyable, well conceived and astutely structured novel....

Nato's Secret Armies - Daniele Ganser

Despite my interest in political and military history, the "Gladio" phenomenon had largely passed me by until I became a regular internet user, and its wider visibility received an additional boost by the whole conspiracy theory "industry" of the past couple of decades, of which it forms an integral part.

There are innumerable books and documentaries out there, of varying credibility, but one of the most widely publicized documents on the subject is "Nato's Secret Armies", by the Swiss academic Daniele Ganser. Not a vast tome, but it gives a digestible and lucidly argued version of what occurred.

To summarise, the "Gladio" project stemmed from a desire by Western governments and intelligence services to install a network of "stay behind" agents and operatives in European countries in the aftermath of World War 2 , to provide information and engage in subversive activities in the event of a Soviet/Eastern Bloc invasion.  It has been shown that these networks to varying degrees mutated or were co-opted, and turned their belligerence on political opponents, civilians and the fabric of society. "False flag" terrorist attacks were carried out, often by extreme right-wing groups, and were then falsely attributed to the radical left.  It would seem that some of  those in positions of power, in intelligence services for example, perpetrated cover-ups in order to protect the existence of the "Gladio" system, and also to shield acolytes.

There is an academic bent to this book, as might be expected given the author's background, and the text drips with some vehemence, indignation and stridency, which is understandable when one objectively appraises the subject matter.  The translation into English (if indeed it was translated into English) is not 100 percent perfect, but this is not a major drawback.

Much of the material which has been in the mass media about "Gladio" has concentrated on its highly visible and dramatic manifestations in Italy between the late 1960s and the early 1980s, with also some attention given to events in Belgium and Germany. Ganser's work provides a more broad, all-encompassing view of the saga, looking at the less publicized facets of the scheme.  We also gain an idea of the attitudes at national, European and NATO level, and the differing reactions of those kept out of the loop, and those who had been privy to details, and feared exposure and scrutiny.

There is little scope for levity in an expose of Gladio, but there is a certain grim humour to the efforts of the former Italian Prime Minister, Giulio Andreotti, who after being nudged into publicly disclosing the existence of the networks, then decided to stress the involvement or complicity of other Western governments and officials. We are told of the often comically contradictory and obtuse answers given by officials at Nato and elsewhere, when questioned about Gladio.

This book benefits from using a wide and varied range of sources, from officials, researchers, journalists, participants and so forth. One can argue that this approach limits the prospect of a plague of disinformation and sensationalism. I found myself mentally sifting through the welter of claims and allegations, methodically deciding which were more credible than others.

There is a revealing and detailed explanation of the origins of the secret networks, linking them to projects already initiated during the war, primarily those overseen by the British Special Operations Executive (SOE). Some effort is made to place the advent of Gladio in its historical and geopolitical contexts. The book format is more conducive to a comprehensive look at the motivations for setting up the structures, and how they developed and evolved. Audio-visual accounts often look and feel disjointed and nebulous, zeroing in on the eye-opening and blatantly insidious aspects, and not necessarily capturing the essence of the big picture. Ganser manages to join some of the dots, also outlining the Nato co-ordination mechanisms with valuable clarity.

A few insinuations are made about the the British and American attitude to Communism, vis-a-vis the Third Reich, which many will find contentious, but they are difficult to ignore. Nato's Secret Armies is quite uncompromising in that respect.

Cutting through everything for me is a hunch that the original Gladio "stay behind" forces would have been ineffectual and inadequate anyway. They only became truly sinister and potent when the emphasis changed from the "resistance" role to that of domestic subversion and manipulation.  It is hard to escape the conclusion that the latter was the main intention all along. The pressure being exerted by the initiative's main sponsors seemed to indicate that this was the case.

Sensibly, the work proceeds to divide itself into chapters addressing the operations and events in each country. It almost doubles as a kind of potted history of Europe in the second half of the twentieth century. The shadowy figures, the abuses and malpractice, and the unsavoury regimes allegedly propped up and tolerated by our so-called democracies.  The salutary cases of Chile and Algeria come under the microscope.

As I worked my way through Nato's Secret Armies, it increasingly occurred to me how bankrupt and bereft of moral self-confidence the Western powers must have been, when they felt the need to indulge in such chicanery, even as an adjunct to other propaganda. Clearly the merits of peaceful and honest ideas were not deemed totally sufficient to dissuade people from embracing Communism.

One of the most poignant parts of the account of the early days of Gladio is the extent to which some European statesmen had to compromise their liberal, democratic principles and acquiesce in the project. Their reliance on American economic and military aid presumably ensured this. At that stage, expediency must have overridden almost everything else.  Desperate times, and all that?

Can it be argued that the basic "stay behind" concept in itself was sensible and sound from a strategic and military standpoint, and that the flaw in its implementation was the lack of democratic or parliamentary oversight and control?  Was it realistic to expect that such supervision could have been undertaken, in the paranoid and insecure post-war period?  It is clear that the Americans in particular did not trust everybody to be furnished with details of the covert operations.  Consequently the imperatives of secrecy and Cold War expediency won out.  The ends justify the means?

It must also be asked whether all the terror, subversion and manipulation actually made any difference to public opinion, and the political climate, in the countries concerned.  I suppose that it is almost impossible to quantify this, except to point out that the "status quo" prevailed, but was this in spite of rather than because of these nefarious activities? Some of the motivation must have stemmed from the powerlessness, desperation even, felt by those in the West, and the sense that they needed to "do something", no matter how dubious in moral and strategic terms.  Not that this excuses much of what went on....

The contention that these measures were primarily ideological, rather than based on a cogent assessment of the real strategic situation at the time, is hard to rebut. Many of the organisations which were infiltrated, discredited or marginalised were committed to achieving their practical objectives through peaceful and democratic means. The Italian Communist Party is perhaps the most obvious example.  It makes one wonder who the real "democrats" were...

It may be unwise and unfair to pronounce uniform motivations and reasons for the "mutation" of some of the secret armies across Europe. Much of the disquiet has revolved around the recruitment of assorted unedifying figures from the defeated Axis powers. The stated rationale was that these individuals could accomplish Allied aims quickly and efficiently, when needs were pressing.  Our old friend Expediency again?

In other places, naivete may have been a factor, the misguided view that these people would not do anything seriously untoward. As a counter-argument, a look at the political inclinations of some of the "stakeholders" should surely have raised the alarm?  The need for secrecy, and the web of intrigue spun within the overall network, seems to have ensured that nothing was done.

The worrying thing is that even today a fair percentage of the population would unquestioningly endorse the unethical and murderous measures undertaken during the Gladio years. We should rejoice in the knowledge that we have journalists, authors, researchers and academics who tirelessly strive to extract the truth in such matters.  Of course, the odd honest and courageous politician always helps....

Although not perhaps a definitive account of its subject, Nato's Secret Armies is an absorbing and disturbing read.

The Spy Who Came In From The Cold - John le Carre

One of the few types of modern-ish fiction which truly excites my enthusiasm is the spy thriller.  One of the high water-marks of the genre is "The Spy Who Came In From The Cold", by John le Carre.

Several factors combine to make this a special and memorable read.  The brilliantly conceived and thought-out plot, and the fact that it occasionally eschews standard spy thriller territory, are among these. I had seen the superb film adaptation, starring Richard Burton, before reading the novel. Whether this in itself was an advantage as regards my appreciation and enjoyment of the book, I am not entirely certain....

Here is a link to my brief blog post about the film.....The Spy Who Came In From The Cold (movie)

Certainly, some of the visuals from the movie were imprinted in the forefront of my mind as a I worked my way through the novel, added to some images which my imagination brought forth independently!  In book form, the at times brutal and unscrupulous nature of Cold War espionage came across just as, if not more, acutely.  The prominence given to the Berlin Wall in the story enhances the sense of foreboding and menace.

I think somebody approaching the book first would find it easier to grasp the narrative, and untangle the intrigue.  The descriptive text leaves fewer things "implied" than in celluloid format, and more tasty morsels are left on the table, inviting the reader to discern where things may ultimately be leading. The various themes and sub-texts are developed with some subtlety, and the whole premise of Alec Leamas's mission, and the elaborate plan which accompanied it, gradually become clearer.  The Leamas character itself is given real depth, and pathos, even allowing for the facade which he is instructed to construct by his superiors.

Just as a much as the monochrome of the movie, the prose here amply evokes the grim, cheerless and uneasy atmosphere which we are constantly told was pervasive in the late 50s and early 60s.  Another thing which struck me when reading this novel was the detachment of the masses from those who were nominally assigned to protect them, and from those with lofty if naive ideals.  This is alluded to several times in the text.

I find it difficult to imagine that in its field, "The Spy Who Came In From The Cold" has been surpassed since it was published.  A masterly piece of story-telling.

The Ipcress File

Having recently developed a penchant for espionage-related movies, I thought that I would check out The Ipcress File, the 1965 film based on the novel by Len Deighton, and starring Michael Caine as Harry Palmer.

The first thing which I noticed about this movie was its aesthetic, which combined elements of Swinging London with the the dark and brooding world of espionage.  The latter is portrayed as clinical, austere and occasionally brutal.

Michael Caine can often come across as somewhat anodyne in his performances, but here he does manage to bring out some of the insolence and cynicism of the character.  Palmer was perhaps the quintessential man of his time (the 60s); rebellious, vaguely anti-establishment, self-confidence bordering on arrogance.

The plot does take a little while to "happen", with comparatively little in the way of exposition, but I was carried along by the tension, until things became clearer later in the film.  The gravity of the dialogue and the subject matter leads us to believe that something of great import is happening, but precisely what is not immediately apparent, or at least it wasn't to this viewer!  Much is left untold, leaving us the viewers to try to join the dots.  Repeated watching may shed further light on some of the intricacies.

It can be argued I think that this is not your straightforward, Cold War-orientated spy thriller, of which there was a surfeit around the time that The Ipcress File was released.  Although we eventually discover that the "double agent" phenomenon is at play here, this is something different again, more obscure perhaps.

The elements of mind-control, brainwashing and psychological experimentation which are detailed here are perhaps not as far-fetched or implausible as some might imagine, although towards the end there was almost a sense that espionage and science-fiction were overlapping.

Not until the final scene do many of the strands finally come together, and the supposed duplicity of the Dalby character is determined.  This closing scene is very gripping.

Not having read the novel myself, I am unable to comment on whether the film is faithful to the original story, but whatever the case, this is a very clever and mind-engaging piece of work, even if it is even harder work mentally than other movies of the genre.  The nature of the plot certainly punctured and defied some of my own pre-conceptions. A word also for John Barry's atmospheric music.

Well worth watching, and I am very tempted to seek out Len Deighton's novel.

The Spy Who Came In From The Cold (movie)

Last night, I had the good fortune to watch The Spy Who Came In From The Cold, the 1965 film adaptation of John le Carre's novel, starring Richard Burton and Claire Bloom.

The opening sequences of the movie accurately set the scene.  Bleak, gloomy and austere, capturing the atmosphere surrounding the seedy world of espionage. It was a masterstroke to make this film in black and white. Monochrome is invariably more evocative than colour.

The plot of The Spy Who Came In From The Cold is quite elaborate, and the movie does a fine job of striking a balance between overt explication and leaving some aspects to be worked out by the viewer.

Richard Burton delivers a fine performance as the brooding, careworn and cynical Alec Leamas. The quality of the acting throughout is quite exceptional. Particularly worthy of praise is the contribution of Oskar Werner as Fiedler.

Other films in the "spy thriller" genre may have sought to glamorise espionage, but The Spy Who Came In From The Cold is quite unflinching in its depiction as a sleazy, ruthless and unforgiving world.  The court room scene towards the scene is particularly stark and compelling.

Overall, this is a well-constructed and riveting film, and well worth checking out. It may persuade me to devote some attention to John le Carre's novels.