With access to recently released papers and other neglected documents,this sharp analysis of the intelligence world examines how and why these men and others betrayed their country and what this cost Britain and its allies.
‘Historians fumble their catches when they study individuals’ motives and ideas rather than the institutions in which people work, respond, find motivation and develop their ideas’ writes Richard Davenport-Hines in his history of the men who were persuaded by the Soviet Union to betray their country.
In a book which attempts to counter many contradictory accounts, Enemies Within offers a study of character: both individual and institutional – the operative traits of boarding schools, the universities of Oxford and Cambridge, the Intelligence Division, the Foreign Office, MI5, MI6 and Moscow Centre.
The book refuses to present the Cambridge spies as they wished to be seen, in Marxist terms. It argues that these five men did their greatest harm to Britain not from their clandestine espionage but in their propaganda victories enjoyed from Moscow after 1951. Notions of trust, abused trust, forfeited trust and mistrust from the late nineteenth century to perestroika pepper its narrative.
In a book that is as intellectually thrilling as it is entertaining and illuminating, Davenport-Hines charts how the undermining of authority, the rejection of expertise, and the suspicion of educational advantages began with the Cambridge Five and has transformed the social and political temper of Britain.
Before writing this review, I have to say that I have loved previous books by this author. “An English Affair,” about the Profumo Affair and “Voyagers of the Titanic,” are both excellent non-fiction books. As I am very interested in the Cambridge Spies and have read a few books about them, I was very keen to read this. Davenport-Hines says this is a study in, “trust, abused trust, forfeited trust and mistrust.”
This is a long, meandering account of espionage, particularly in Russia and Britain. One of the issues with this book is that it seems that the author wanted to include every single piece of research he unearthed. Much of it is really interesting, but it reads like an endless list of people, places and events that become difficult to follow. It then, evolves into something of a rant, with him unpicking the effects on national security after the discovery of the Cambridge Spies.
I suspect that many readers will be unable to go beyond Part One of the book, though, in which he gives such a detailed account of the secret services, from before WWI, that you begin to feel the book loses focus before it really gets to the heart of the matter. Although this was something of a disappointment, I would certainly read more by this author. I think this became too bogged down with the author’s own conclusions and too much extraneous detail. That said, much of it was enjoyable, but it takes perseverance to get there.
This book provides a detailed analysis of Russian/Soviet espionage in the UK, starting from the Revolution through the Cold War. But it's more than a mere retelling of the old spy stories : what the author tracks is how these stories shaped the perception of the secret services, of Russia/Soviet Union, and of the trustworthiness of government as a whole. One of his main theses is that the defection of Burgess and MacLean in 1951, and the hysterical press coverage that blamed "the old boys' network" and "the homosexual mafia" were crucial events in the gradual erosion of public trust in their government. And not just that: whereas (discreet) homosexuality had up until then not been a major obstacle towards a career in government in the UK, the subsequent axiom (brought from the USA via Edgar J. Hoover's paranoia) that homosexuality predisposes to secrecy and treachery, led to career-ending internal investigations that dragged on for decades. Even up until the 1970s and 1980s there were conspiracy theories that additional moles existed within the UK (and US) secret services, and some people obsessively returned to decoded cables from 30 years earlier time and time again.
The author is inclined to take a charitable view of the fact that Burgess and MacLean, despite their obvious instability and prior history as communist sympathizers, were allowed to occupy sensitive posts during and after the war. His point is that trust and openness among colleagues was one of the defining characteristics of that era, and he contrasts it with the paranoia within the Soviet system. He also deftly dismantles the argument that the Cambridge spies were drawn from the upper crust and were protected by their aristocratic cronies : they were solidly middle class, and far from rich. I wonder if this perception arose partly out of confusion about the British tradition of (ultmately) giving a title to long-term public servants. So Sir so-and-so may not be the aristocratic descendant of a titled family, but a grocer's son who spent 20 years toiling in an obscure embassy or government department, building the Empire.
I tend to agree with him. Blaming by hindsight is easy. Burgess and MacLean escaped, in no large measure thanks to Philby and Blunt, and it would have taken a particularly paranoid brain to suspect that there were quite that many moles in the Foreign Office and MI5. And in 1951 it was easy to forget that in the 1930s, scores of young people had seen in Communism the best defense against Nazism. The large majority of these became disenchanted after the show trials of 1936, or the Soviet-Nazi non-aggression pact - one of the authors cited in the book compared a temporary infatuation with Communism in his students to getting the measles : you have to go through it, but then you're cured.
. There's a cast of thousands : zealots, rogues, dupes caper in and out of the story. I had a hard time keeping up with all the characters, but that probably just reflects the limitations of my memory. The book can also be funny, with some choice descriptions of the colorful characters that made up the secret services during and after WWII. It's a long, dense read, and I recommend it more for people who are interested in the history of the UK, than for people who want to hear the gory details of the Cambridge Five.
You might not think it possible to produce a dull book on the Cambridge Spies and other Soviet espionage within the UK. However, Davenport-Hines has managed this with ease. Other reviewers have commented on how far they got before giving up, I did manage to get to the end with a huge sense of relief and some anger.
There are two reasons for the dullness. Firstly, Davenport-Hines has done a lot of research and wants the reader to be aware of this. A character might only be referred to in a few paragraphs but we have to know where their parents were born, what job(s) they had and even how much they left in their will (see page 95). None of this has any bearing on their role in the narrative but as he found it out, we have to know about it.
The second and main reason is that Davenport-Hines pushes his ‘big idea’ throughout: that the spies weren’t part of the upper class. Of course they weren’t, the upper class is royalty and the aristocracy. They were, however, part of the upper echelons of society and the establishment. The way he denies this is undermined by the facts themselves. He goes to great lengths to say how common their schooling was: Elton (Burgess), Westminster (Philby), Marlborough (Blunt) and Greshams (Mclean). I particularly enjoyed the descriptions of the Philby house as being in a “humdrum middling district” of London, to show his poor upbringing (p 178), only to be told, two paragraphs later, that he was instructed when to wear which hat at school: “mortarboard, top hat, trilby for weekends, straw boater and sports cap of green and blue”. Sounds really poor and rough.
He is at pains to point out that some parts of the Foreign Office were so far from being posh that some employees even went to private schools. As someone whose father was unable to go to Grammar School because of the cost and who went to a Comprehensive School, I don’t find this particularly egalitarian.
Davenport-Hines clearly believes that the Establishment should be beyond reproach and clever people (I.e.those from good schools and Oxbridge) should not have to explain themselves to those who are inferior and beneath them. He clearly thinks that Blunt should have retained his knighthood and be honoured because of his great intellect. He quotes with admiration a letter published in The Times when Blunt was outed, saying that it would have been better to have kept it under wraps. He then quotes another letter from the same edition praising Thatcher for revelling Blunt’s treachery. Rather than argue with the views expressed, Davenport-Hines launches an ad hominem attack on the writer (p 528). In fact, wherever someone criticises those who he considers above criticism, they are given adjectives to show how malign, mean and spiteful they are.
Finally, Davenport-Hines seems opposed to the Labour Party. He says, without any supporting evidence, “the party’s antagonism to the intelligence services continues to this day” (p 100). Really, the Blair government was so opposed to the security services that it used its intelligence to provide backing for an illegal war. That doesn’t sound antagonistic to me.
There are better ways to waste your time than this.
Enjoyable, but decidedly unfocused and more than a little eccentric. RD-H’s thesis is that the received wisdom concerning the Cambridge Five - upper class , with the feckless lack of social and political responsibility that comes with this status - is not just unfair, but incorrect.
This is an interesting proposition, well worth exploring. RD-H goes back to the dawn of organised spy craft, post World War One, to set the context for the the lure of Communism and mixed loyalties amongst aspects of Britain’s educated classes. This, he does extremely well - this part of the book might well serve as the definitive work on the period.
The second section, which deals with the backgrounds of the Cambridge Five, is equally useful. Most accounts focus on their ‘gullibility’ in falling for the supposed egalitarianism of communism. This book sets out the context of the period - particularly the troubling indifference to fascism - very lucidly. It doesn’t excuse the moral compromises that many fellow travellers made, or the outright betrayal that some (and not just Burgess, Philby et al) went on to, but sets out the circumstances vigorously.
The narrative takes a decidedly odd turn when it begins to deconstruct the motives and standing of the Cambridge set. It is one thing to set out to disprove an existing theory; another to propose something equally convincing in its place. There’s no doubt that the rancid homophobia of the media and the chattering class poisoned public opinion conclusively. But the book is less certain when it goes into the distraction (to my mind, at least) of class. The distinctions that the book make are technically correct, but fall very much within the specialist parsing of Orwell’s ‘lower upper middle class’ descriptions, and ignores the milieu that the spies inhabited at the time of their misdeeds. (Club men, able to rely on social connections, etc)
However, R D-H proposes a brave alternative - gender, rather than class. This is interesting, but his attempts to push this perspective are so desultory that more than once I wondered if he had proposed this as a perverse joke. His ad hominem assaults on commentators who pushed alternative views, whilst amusing, don’t do his analysis any favours.
The broader problem is that of insisting that a cohesive narrative exists. Facts conspire to reach a conclusion; setting these out as they make themselves clear, rather than casting a selective (or opinionated) filter over them, does reader and writer a far better service. I’d recommend reading the first half of this book for information, and the second half for amusement.
I went into Davenport-Hines’ Enemies Within: Communists, Cambridge Spies, and the Making of Modern Britain with eyes open. I had gotten halfway through his Gothic: A History. I won’t go into that book’s issues, but I understood the possibility of like features. Mostly I was interested in the Cambridge Five. Specifically, Blunt and Philby. I imagined D-H’s mammoth work would provide more info than I probably wanted. This suspicion proved true, but somewhat disappointing.
Davenport-Hines has a rather large premise. He states with a truthfulness I daren’t dispute that the England’s security services were until very recently almost entirely staffed in positions of authority by men. These men got along with each other swell. They’d go off to the club, enjoy a few dozen snifters apiece, and mostly kept it quiet enough when a compatriot began aggressively quoting Marx or Lenin and attempted to uncouthly recruit them. I’m guessing usually when the tab became due. Because the office environment was composed almost entirely of males, a high premium was placed on the values of loyalty, discretion, and avoiding public embarrassment at all possible costs. This gender dominance according to D-H allowed those spying for Russia within the Foreign Office, MI5 & MI6 to escape detection and even allowed them to continue their seditious trade after they were detected. Whenever a spy was discovered and halted, though, the male patriarchy almost always attempted to avoid public scandal in the form of a trial. This blueprint of passive passivity worked sufficiently well until Guy Burgess and Donald Maclean decided to take an extended “holiday” to the Soviet Union. Had women been staffed in positions of prominence, almost certainly none of the recruitment, spying, and cover-ups would’ve proceeded as they had. Yes, I can say this is the first history book I’ve read where it felt the MeToo movement provided more than a little inspiration for its across the board revisionism.
The problem with baldly asserting what men are “like”, then claiming that were women to fill more of their roles things would be different—because ostensibly they’re “unlike” their male counterparts—leads to, well, touchy issues. One might neatly jump from men are loyal, discrete, and non-confrontational, then over to women are disloyal, indiscrete, and truculent. D-H clearly means that placing women in positions of influence and power from the 30s on would’ve changed the time-line as to how things ultimately unfolded; but this is a simple truism, not really an informative theory. The exclusion of women from almost all positions of power is a deep fault in itself. Attributing negative qualities to an entire gender often means attributing different negative qualities to the other as well. Another unfortunate feature of Enemies Within is D-H’s persistent debunking of past flabby explanations as to why some Brits spied for the communist cause. D-H writes repeatedly that upper classism had absolutely nothing to do with why the Martin Hari crowd decided to betray their country. To prove it D-H goes through each spy’s parents’ employment history. Actually, he extends this to non-spies as well. With the list of folk treated in the five hundred plus page work you’ll soon feel like your reading a nonstop flash mob resumé.
Now, sure, I could point out that the Cambridge Five all went to University and that alone confers an inherent degree of prestige whether the person in question went to Eaton or not and whether his dad cleaned toilets for a living. Sure, I could state in very bad faith that women actually outnumbered the men in the security services—albeit in mostly secretarial slots. Sure, I could point out that the Soviets had numerous female field officers and the “male” qualities of loyalty and discretion were as present in their actions on behalf of the Politburo as it could possibly wish. And, sure, I could gripe that the Big Five aren’t touched on significantly until almost two hundred pages in. But I can’t take away from D-H the incredible amount of information he provides to any reader of Enemies Within. Even if it in the end all buttresses an extremely faulty theory that isn’t really much of one to begin with.
BTW: Once you do get to it, however, the stuff on Burgess, Philby, and Blunt are well worth the price of admission.
While I did feel compelled to finish the book, it was a bit of a slog. This writer clearly knows his stuff, but needs to edit down and make the connections better. The impetus to include every detail and picayune anecdote must be better tamed!
Too often items or characterizations were repeated without the writer commenting that this was "again" or "as had happened before", leading the reader to wonder if the same author were writing each chapter. Davenport-Hines's thesis that the failures of the British intelligence services were due to gendered rather than class-based camaraderie is all fine and good, but reading as an American, it came off as somewhat clumsily presented.
There were also failures to create narrative and thematic structures within sections to help the reader understand and internalize the material. Too often we are presented with veritable lists of people and actions with rambling timelines and undefined acronyms.
And yet, I did finish it because there was enough good history to make it worth it. How much better this would have been had there been a good, strong editor.
The author sets out to present a sociological view of UK citizens’ espionage for USSR rather than a series of biographies. Got off to a bad start with the author’s assertion that the problem with WWII/early Cold War UK security services was lack of women in important positions rather than the “old boy network” and that a public school education didn’t/doesn’t mean someone was/is privileged. His unsupported claims that post-war nationalisation was disastrous suggests a political axe to grind - amusing at a time when right-wing Tory government is considering re-nationalising certain public services.
He begins long before WWII, even before the forged Zinoviev letter, and media campaigns against anything vaguely socialist.
He makes interesting, pertinent comparisons between the ethos of Cambridge and Oxford in the ‘30s and highlights the visible and growing threat of fascism.
His accounts of post-war persecution of gay men are important. Although male homosexuality was illegal in UK, there was a degree of tolerance, but the 1950s brought a moral panic, imported from the USA and exploited by the right wing press barons.
A great book, if not a perfect one. Proofreading errors abound. A minor one, but a repeated one, is calling Kim Philby's 'My Silent War,' *My Secret War*. Subtitle and cover art notwithstanding, this volume does not limit itself to a retelling of the Cambridge Spies tale, but goes back to the origins of Soviet penetration of British society and intelligence from the early 20th century. Some people will argue with the author's treatment of Chapman Pincher, Peter Wright and others whose accusations against intelligence chiefs seems far-fetched. Whether or not they are, this is a useful critique. I've been through the book at least twice since it was published, and it improves with re-reading.
I enjoyed the author's pen portraits of the various characters he introduces, and his coverage of the history of espionage and the various spying scandals is really interesting, but I wasn't entirely convinced by his thesis that it wasn't really about class, especially as in a couple of (relatively minor) examples he seems to contradict himself. I think he's right that gender imbalance inside the service and homophobia outside it had a large part to play in how events unfolded, but this doesn't, to my mind, preclude the impact of class. I also think he over-eggs the argument that all this led to the Britain as it is today.
It's always great when you can find a historian who writes with the flair of a novelist and Richard Davenport-Hines is certainly one of those. The story of the Cambridge spy ring is a well-trodden path but this is the definitive text, leaving no stone unturned. The book's greatest strength is in providing a detailed look at the intelligence services on both sides of the Cold War, showing how such deceit could go undetected for so long. Utterly absorbing
Very comprehensive look at early 20th century espionage in general and the Cambridge Five in particular. The author is aware of the impact of gender/masculinity to a degree I have only rarely seen outside of explicitly feminist historical writing, and I think he made some great points! Also it really is mindblowing how drunk everyone was an awful lot of the time!!!
Had to put this down unfortunately. Dense, niche history that feels endless to start the book. Could be right for some people but definitely not right for me.
This book was a bit of a slog. It is actually three books: a history of espionage in Russia and Great Britain; a blow-by-blow account of every spy you have ever/never heard of; an idiosyncratic view of the role of gender in the security services and the trail leading from the exposure of the Cambridge Five to the Brexit vote. Some of it is fascinating; some of it is polemic (e.g. he hates le Carre) and some of it is too full of meticulously detailed research. There are so many names popping up many pages apart that frequent reference to the index is essential. It is an excellent work of reference, and works of reference are not designed to be read all the way through in one go.
This book had some crazy quotes like this one: "They left him alone in a room with a pistol and waited for him to shoot himself." What I did think was interesting was that "Sex discrimination was the main reason for Moscow's success in infiltrating the government." Overall, a difficult book to read. It felt like an encyclopedia of facts. It had no sense of a story. But I did it.