One of Britain’s most notorious traitors, Soviet spy and double agent Kim Philby, died in self-imposed exile in Moscow 30 years ago today.
Philby was part of a spy ring operating within the British intelligence services between the 1930s and 1950s, feeding secret information to Soviet Russia. The group became known as the “Cambridge Five”, having been earmarked for recruitment as spies while at Cambridge University. The discovery of their treacherous activities as ‘double-agents’ shocked the British establishment, which had foolishly assumed members of the ‘upper classes’ were above suspicion.
Harold Adrian Russell Philby was born in British India in 1912, the son of a high-ranking member of the Indian Civil Service, at that time run by the British. He was nicknamed ‘Kim’ after the character in the Rudyard Kipling novel and the name stuck. It was near the end of his time at Cambridge that he was introduced to an organisation which claimed to help victims of growing German fascism, but was in fact a front for a Communist group.
Through his involvement with the organisation, the idealistic young Philby moved to Vienna where he met and was briefly married to a young woman who was an active member of the Austrian Communist Party. He later claimed it was at this time that he was ‘turned’ to the Communist cause and was recruited by the Soviet government to spy for them within the British establishment.
Returning to Britain, he successfully joined its Secret Intelligence Service, MI6, and began to rise through its ranks, especially during the Second World War. He was quickly recognised as a capable and resourceful intelligence officer, his superiors never suspecting he was already passing secrets to his Soviet spymasters.
During the war, Britain and the Soviet Union were allies against Nazi Germany, but immediately afterwards the relationship between the Communist superpower and the capitalist west rapidly deteriorated to an openly hostile ‘Cold War’. It was then that Philby, the most successful of the ‘Cambridge Five, became a significant threat to national security.
On the surface he was managing espionage against the Russians and other foreign powers, but in reality was feeding British secrets to his Soviet masters, making him a ‘double-agent’. He might have been even more effective if not for the fact that Soviet leader Joseph Stalin (a notoriously paranoid man) suspected Philby might even be a ‘triple-agent’, pretending to spy for the USSR while still working for the British. It meant some of the information he passed was not trusted.
While ostensibly working for MI6, Philby held several high-ranking posts, including periods stationed in Istanbul and Washington DC. It gave him access to highly sensitive material and it is still not fully known how much he passed to the Soviets. Even at such a high level, his activities were monitored and he had to be extremely careful to avoid detection.
While stationed in Washington, Philby learned that another of the Cambridge Five, Donald Maclean, was under investigation by the FBI. He risked exposure by sending a third double agent, Guy Burgess, back to London to warn Maclean. In May 1951 both Burgess and Mclean fled Britain and later resurfaced in Russia, where their defection was announced.
Amid increased security, Philby had to curtail his spying and was investigated by MI5 because of his close association with Burgess. Although cleared, he had to resign from MI6, but maintained contact while working as a foreign correspondent for The Observer newspaper. His downfall came when a major in the Soviet KGB defected to the United States and revealed the names of several Soviet agents active in the UK and USA.
Fearing imminent arrest, Philby vanished from his journalistic posting in Beirut in January 1963, resurfacing in Moscow more than six months later. The Soviets announced he had been granted political asylum and citizenship. When the UK stripped him of his OBE, the Soviets awarded him the Order of Lenin.
After a brief period of celebrity in Moscow and notoriety in the west, Philby lived the final 25 years of his life under virtual house arrest in Moscow, the Soviets fearful he might defect back to the UK. Often lonely and depressed, he began to drink heavily, disappointed that his work for the Soviets was not rewarded with a high-ranking government post and disillusioned that the reality of life for most people under Communist rule did not match his idealistic notions.
After dying of heart failure on May 10th, 1988, aged 76, he was given a hero’s funeral, posthumously awarded numerous medals by the USSR and even appeared on a Soviet postage stamp (pictured above). Many remarked on the irony that the public acclaim he craved in life was only granted after his death.