New Delhi:
He was the perfect British gentleman – polite, well-spoken, impeccable manners and a knack for charming everyone who came in his orbit. But behind all of that, Harold Adrian Russell “Kim” Philby was living a dangerous double life. A top officer in British intelligence and a loyal agent of the Soviet Union, Philby fooled almost everyone, even his closest friends.
The Perfect Cover
To his colleagues in MI6, Britain’s foreign intelligence agency, Kim Philby was a rising star. Calm under pressure, loyal in appearance, and deeply trusted, he was considered one of the best in the business.
But he had a secret.
Long before his career began, Philby had already pledged loyalty, not to Britain, but to the Soviet Union.
Philby was recruited in 1934 by a Soviet agent known as “Otto.” It was his first wife, Lizzy, a committed communist, who connected him to the underground Soviet network. From that moment on, he became a double agent, sending British secrets to Moscow for nearly 30 years.
MI5 gave him the codename “PEACH.” To the Russians, he was a goldmine.
Philby was part of a group of five Cambridge University students, all of whom turned into Soviet spies after being ideologically drawn to communism in the 1930s.
A Soviet Betrayal
Perhaps Philby’s most unforgivable betrayal involved Konstantin Volkov, a Soviet officer.
Volkov approached the British in Istanbul, offering a deal: in exchange for money and asylum, he would reveal the names of several KGB spies working inside the British government. Among the names? Kim Philby himself.
Philby moved quickly. He warned his KGB handlers, delayed the British response, and took over the case. Before Volkov could defect, he and his wife were kidnapped by the KGB. They were never seen again.
Volkov could have exposed Philby and the entire Cambridge spy ring. Instead, because of Philby’s interference, British intelligence stayed in the dark for years.
In his report, Philby wrote, “The probable explanation is that Volkov betrayed himself.” This lie helped preserve his cover and allowed him to continue feeding secrets to Moscow.
A Web Of Lies
Despite growing suspicions, British intelligence couldn’t pin Philby down. In 1951, Philby was called to London. He was questioned harshly but never formally charged. The evidence was thin, and his charm disarmed even seasoned investigators.
One MI5 officer described him as “more of an enigma than ever.” Even a confession from Klaus Fuchs, the man who leaked atomic bomb secrets to the Soviets, didn’t lead to action against Philby.
And so, he remained free.
The Confession
The end came in 1963, with a quiet conversation in Beirut. By then, Philby was working as a journalist for The Observer. MI6 sent someone he trusted, his old friend Nicholas Elliott, to get a confession.
Elliott admired Philby and considered him a brother.
He secretly recorded their talk. Philby finally admitted he had been spying for the Soviets since 1934. But his confession was peppered with lies – he claimed to have stopped spying after 1946, which wasn’t true.
He also revealed no remorse. “If I had my life to lead again,” Philby said, “I would probably have behaved in the same way.”
The Escape
A few days after the meeting, Philby vanished. He slipped aboard a Russian freighter in Beirut, leaving behind a letter for his third wife, Eleanor, with vague reassurances and some cash hidden in a dictionary.
MI5 later intercepted the letter. One line read, “Don’t worry about anything. We will meet again soon.” In a postscript, he added, “Please destroy this as soon as you have found the cash.”
Philby’s escape stunned British intelligence. Despite multiple opportunities to arrest him, the British had let their greatest traitor slip through their fingers.
Kim Philby lived out the rest of his life in the Soviet Union. Though initially treated as a hero, he grew bitter and isolated. He missed England, drank heavily, and remained haunted by what he had done, or perhaps by how little remorse he felt.
He died in Moscow in 1988, still convinced he had done the right thing. In 2010, Russia honoured him with a plaque at the foreign intelligence headquarters.
