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A Spy Among Friends: Kim Philby and the Great Betrayal Spiral-bound
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Product details
- ASIN : B09T4T2XXY
- Spiral-bound : 384 pages
- Best Sellers Rank: #5,547,613 in Books (See Top 100 in Books)
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About the author

Ben Macintyre is a writer-at-large for The Times of London and the bestselling author of A Spy Among Friends, Double Cross, Operation Mincemeat, Agent Zigzag, and Rogue Heroes, among other books. Macintyre has also written and presented BBC documentaries of his work.
(Photo Credit: Justine Stoddart)
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Reviewed in the United States on October 17, 2018
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This is a fine book, well-researched and lucidly written. It shook me to my core.
Macintyre does highlight one thing perhaps not widely appreciated, though it was previously pointed out by Graham Greene: Philby was among other things an effective manager, a leader who inspired loyalty in his team because he repeatedly demonstrated loyalty to them. While it's true that he came from the right social background, that alone does not explain why for decades he was protected by the solidarity of "a chosen brotherhood." (pg. 185) What's more telling is that he seems to have been genuinely liked by everyone at MI6, even though they separately loathed each other.
Philby may at times have suffered from having chosen to lead a double life, but I suspect he also took some pleasure in disguising himself without resorting to make-up or masks, simply relying on having the right background, a winning personality and conversational skills. A risk-taker without remotely being a Bond-like adventurer, he enjoyed deciding who would get to know how much of the truth, and which version of it. He must also have relished the opportunity to play God, determining who lived or died without his victims ever suspecting that he was the ultimate arbiter. "Victims?" one imagines Philby saying with Harry Lime – "don't be melodramatic."
Macintyre's new angle comes from his refocusing our attention on Philby's relationship with his closest friend – and fellow intelligence officer – Nicholas Elliott. Elliott was perhaps the most likeable member of the well-connected set who enabled Philby to remain undetected, if not entirely unsuspected. Whatever it was that finally convinced Elliott of Philby's treachery (the theory offered here is not entirely believable), it came as a severe shock to his system. Macintyre describes well how shaken he must have felt at suddenly confronting a truth he had so long and so confidently denied. The title of this book is "A Spy Among Friends," but a more accurate one might have been, "Intelligence Agents Have No Friends."
For a more detailed version of this review, see my blog: hamiltonbeck.wordpress.com
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This however, was unputdownable (if such a critical adjective exists). It was cleverly not a biography, more of a study. I found Philby all the more repellent; mainly as a result of his complete indifference to the many people he made to suffer (his wives, children, although Macintyre kept emphasising what a kind, attentive father he was) and most of all his utter lack of remorse at the many, many people his actions condemned to death. But ultimately, condemned by their own blinkered outlook and utter inability to believe "one of us" could be a spy, the upper class mandarins of MI6 came across as the villains of the piece. This is well trodden ground, but it was brought into startling focus in this book. Macintyre was very sound on the class rivalries between MI5 and MI6 and explained it well, despite these kind of social gradations being possibly somewhat inexplicable to younger readers of the 21st century. Ultimately, and probably unfairly, I ended up disliking Nicholas Elliot nearly as much as Philby. His utter refusal to see any fault in his friend was an Achilles heel which had enormous consequences. Not that he was alone - it seemed that MI6 moved heaven and earth to deny what was pointed out to them quite clearly, mainly on the grounds that Philby had never declared any communist sympathies, belonged to the right clubs and went to the right tailor. They refused to look for, or even believe, the evidence put in front of them for these very same reasons. I believe this to be entirely true from my own (very minor) experience in being vetted and the attitudes of those in command not all that many years ago. But Philby's skill was undeniable - he just hoodwinked everyone. Although how any of them made any judgements at all about anything given the industrial quantities of alcohol they imbibed, is a mystery.
I thoroughly enjoyed this book and read it compulsively from beginning to end.

Moral ambiguity is a trade mark of espionage. One of the spy fiction writers remarked that all spies are semi-crooks in the murky world of intelligence, no matter which government they were serving. In Le Carré’s “The Spy who came in from the cold”, C admitted unabashedly that the methods used by both sides in the cold war have become much the same. “you can’t be less ruthless than the opposition simply because your government’s policy is benevolent, can you now?” Who could claim that the dirty works carried out by CIA, MI6 or MI5 or Mossad were less wicked than those by KGB?
Spy among friends by Ben Macintyre depicts the relationship of three spymasters. With a gleeful irony, the author artfully contrasts the characters and lives of N Elliot and J Angleton with that of Philby. Elliot of MI6 and Angleton of CIA, two die-hard anti-communist agents were mercilessly duped by their best friend Philby. Compared with Knightley’s biography of Philby, Macintyre seems pretty scathing about him: “Philby enjoyed deception. Like secrecy, the erotic charge of infidelity can be hard to renounce.” The author charts Philby’s intrigues and betrayals like narrating the planning of an Italian Job; at the same time, he tacitly acknowledges the necessity of political expediency.
Macintyre is a witty writer, full of one-liner quips and shrewd observations of characters, “Eccentricity is one of those English traits that looks like frailty but masks a concealed strength; individuality disguised as oddity.” With plenty of fascinating anecdotes that smack of James Bond adventures, his non-fiction sometimes reads like a racy thriller, a real page-turner.

Of course for outsiders like Lewis, slowly earning your way to an inner ring may not only take years but may turn out to be a hollow promise after all. But the nature of the old British establishment was that if you were born into the right family, went to the right school, had the right kind of accent and bearing, you could skip all those tawdry outer rings and accelerate right to the centre of things where commoners rarely, if ever, appear. The inner rings are inevitably smaller, and fewer people share the high-octane experience of access to key decisions and key information.
What MI6, the UK’s secret intelligence organisation, hadn’t bargained for was that once their trusted men were in the inner ring it was practically the only place they could let their guard down and share their experiences without fear of a snooping ear. And boy did they offload. Here were brothers, comrades, co-spies in a world where no one else knew their true work, not even their wives. And, from the 1930s through to the early 1960s, one man in particular – charming, intelligent, a veritable Bond – was picking them clean of every detail, every initiative, and every name.
Entrance into the UK spy organisation’s inner rings was surprisingly easy for Kim Philby. He simply asked a friend of his father’s to recommend him. ‘I know their people!’ was recommendation enough. In the 1940s the old boy network was considered as sound as a pound. A typical Eton old boy was as British as you could be. But it was at Cambridge that Philby first encountered the vision of a communist society. And it was an idealistic vision that held his loyalty for the remainder of his life. In fact he was so devoted to this ideal that he gave uncritical obedience to his KGB handlers from first to last. Philby’s beliefs as a student were well known, but when the Soviets recruited him they advised him not to join the Communist Party but rather to appear to grow out of that youthful phase and adopt more right-wing views. He obeyed, and became the KGB’s most senior operative; one who infiltrated the British security system to the highest levels. Philby, the Eton and Cambridge old boy, who loved cricket and was a thoroughly good egg, was ushered into the inner ring, and became the most notorious spy of his generation. He was so thoroughly British that the British refused to doubt him, and the KGB refused to trust him.
As Ben Macintyre describes in this highly readable account of Philby’s adventures, he actually became head of the UK’s anti-Soviet division – an almost unbelievable feat. The most senior Soviet spy in Britain became the head of the Britain’s anti-Soviet operations. And the information Philby was sending to the Soviet Union was so thorough and so accurate that the KGB began to be suspicious of him and had him followed.
After two other well-to-do Cambridge recruits were exposed as Soviet spies and defected, the spotlight fell (accurately) on Philby. He must have tipped them off. The CIA in America was certain of it. MI5 (British security service) and MI6 (British foreign intelligence service) had differing views on Philby. MI5 were convinced he had been a double-agent. MI6 thought those horrible people at MI5 were just slandering him, and had nothing concrete against him. And so, as an old boy truly in the security of a tightening inner ring, Philby was exonerated and declared to be so in Parliament by fellow-Etonian, Harold Macmillan. Incredibly, a few years later he was working for MI6 again.
Of course, it all finally caught up with him, and he was probably (Macintyre, and others infer) allowed to escape to Moscow where he received by the Soviet authorities. It was hardly a hero’s welcome for a lifetime or risk and deceit. He was kept at arms length. He lived in a small flat, avidly reading through old cricket games in old copies of the Times when he was able to get them, desperate of news from home. A humbling isolated end. A Briton in exile.
Philby’s betrayal, not only of country, but of friends, was intensely difficult to process by those who were closest to him. They were left devastated by his defection when the watertight evidence was revealed. We’re told Nicholas Elliot, in MI6, never fully recovered from the shock of it all. His closest friend was working for the Communists. He re-lived whole segments of his life with a new perspective. The realisation that he had spilled the beans on numerous activities which was relayed to the Soviet Union must have been unbearable to him. And the American James Angleton, another close friend, nearly destroyed the CIA through increasingly invasive internal witch-hunts prompted by the post-Philby paranoia.
Suave, sophisticated, well educated, gracious, the quintessential British gentleman, Kim Philby deceived them all. And all for an ideal it seems he didn’t care to review beyond his earlier infatuation with it. Somehow he looked past Stalin’s crimes and doggedly held on to a pristine ideal. He looked past the ruthless disappearance of KGB handlers who were suddenly under suspicion, and kept looking for the communist dream. He didn’t live to see the fall of it all along with the Berlin Wall in 1989.
As a result of his winnowing work he frustrated numerous cold-war operations, sent hundreds of agents to their deaths, and told a gazillion bare-faced lies, not least of which were his declarations of innocence in his mother’s flat before a crowd of reporters after Macmillan’s statement in the House of Commons. You can see footage of that and of him speaking in the USSR here
‘Meet it is I set it down that one may smile, and smile, and be a villain’, said Hamlet. Macintyre’s superbly readable account of the secret world of high-class spies has certainly been one of my most engaging reads of this year, and is a subject which continues to fascinate. Surely it’s time for a film version.

Reviewed in the United Kingdom on September 16, 2019
Of course for outsiders like Lewis, slowly earning your way to an inner ring may not only take years but may turn out to be a hollow promise after all. But the nature of the old British establishment was that if you were born into the right family, went to the right school, had the right kind of accent and bearing, you could skip all those tawdry outer rings and accelerate right to the centre of things where commoners rarely, if ever, appear. The inner rings are inevitably smaller, and fewer people share the high-octane experience of access to key decisions and key information.
What MI6, the UK’s secret intelligence organisation, hadn’t bargained for was that once their trusted men were in the inner ring it was practically the only place they could let their guard down and share their experiences without fear of a snooping ear. And boy did they offload. Here were brothers, comrades, co-spies in a world where no one else knew their true work, not even their wives. And, from the 1930s through to the early 1960s, one man in particular – charming, intelligent, a veritable Bond – was picking them clean of every detail, every initiative, and every name.
Entrance into the UK spy organisation’s inner rings was surprisingly easy for Kim Philby. He simply asked a friend of his father’s to recommend him. ‘I know their people!’ was recommendation enough. In the 1940s the old boy network was considered as sound as a pound. A typical Eton old boy was as British as you could be. But it was at Cambridge that Philby first encountered the vision of a communist society. And it was an idealistic vision that held his loyalty for the remainder of his life. In fact he was so devoted to this ideal that he gave uncritical obedience to his KGB handlers from first to last. Philby’s beliefs as a student were well known, but when the Soviets recruited him they advised him not to join the Communist Party but rather to appear to grow out of that youthful phase and adopt more right-wing views. He obeyed, and became the KGB’s most senior operative; one who infiltrated the British security system to the highest levels. Philby, the Eton and Cambridge old boy, who loved cricket and was a thoroughly good egg, was ushered into the inner ring, and became the most notorious spy of his generation. He was so thoroughly British that the British refused to doubt him, and the KGB refused to trust him.
As Ben Macintyre describes in this highly readable account of Philby’s adventures, he actually became head of the UK’s anti-Soviet division – an almost unbelievable feat. The most senior Soviet spy in Britain became the head of the Britain’s anti-Soviet operations. And the information Philby was sending to the Soviet Union was so thorough and so accurate that the KGB began to be suspicious of him and had him followed.
After two other well-to-do Cambridge recruits were exposed as Soviet spies and defected, the spotlight fell (accurately) on Philby. He must have tipped them off. The CIA in America was certain of it. MI5 (British security service) and MI6 (British foreign intelligence service) had differing views on Philby. MI5 were convinced he had been a double-agent. MI6 thought those horrible people at MI5 were just slandering him, and had nothing concrete against him. And so, as an old boy truly in the security of a tightening inner ring, Philby was exonerated and declared to be so in Parliament by fellow-Etonian, Harold Macmillan. Incredibly, a few years later he was working for MI6 again.
Of course, it all finally caught up with him, and he was probably (Macintyre, and others infer) allowed to escape to Moscow where he received by the Soviet authorities. It was hardly a hero’s welcome for a lifetime or risk and deceit. He was kept at arms length. He lived in a small flat, avidly reading through old cricket games in old copies of the Times when he was able to get them, desperate of news from home. A humbling isolated end. A Briton in exile.
Philby’s betrayal, not only of country, but of friends, was intensely difficult to process by those who were closest to him. They were left devastated by his defection when the watertight evidence was revealed. We’re told Nicholas Elliot, in MI6, never fully recovered from the shock of it all. His closest friend was working for the Communists. He re-lived whole segments of his life with a new perspective. The realisation that he had spilled the beans on numerous activities which was relayed to the Soviet Union must have been unbearable to him. And the American James Angleton, another close friend, nearly destroyed the CIA through increasingly invasive internal witch-hunts prompted by the post-Philby paranoia.
Suave, sophisticated, well educated, gracious, the quintessential British gentleman, Kim Philby deceived them all. And all for an ideal it seems he didn’t care to review beyond his earlier infatuation with it. Somehow he looked past Stalin’s crimes and doggedly held on to a pristine ideal. He looked past the ruthless disappearance of KGB handlers who were suddenly under suspicion, and kept looking for the communist dream. He didn’t live to see the fall of it all along with the Berlin Wall in 1989.
As a result of his winnowing work he frustrated numerous cold-war operations, sent hundreds of agents to their deaths, and told a gazillion bare-faced lies, not least of which were his declarations of innocence in his mother’s flat before a crowd of reporters after Macmillan’s statement in the House of Commons. You can see footage of that and of him speaking in the USSR here
‘Meet it is I set it down that one may smile, and smile, and be a villain’, said Hamlet. Macintyre’s superbly readable account of the secret world of high-class spies has certainly been one of my most engaging reads of this year, and is a subject which continues to fascinate. Surely it’s time for a film version.


Macintyre has pieced together a detailed history of Philby’s various jobs in MI6 and as a journalist for ‘The Observer’ and is clearly able to demonstrate the wide-ranging and vast extent of his espionage activities for the KGB. I think there is a general perception that Philby’s activities were fairly benign in terms of lives lost, but this could not be further from the truth, lives lost numbering well in excess of three hundred. The lackadaisical and sloppy approach of senior MI6 and CIA management during the 1940s, 50s and 60s is breath-taking. This attitude clearly greatly facilitated Philby’s espionage work at every turn. This is a withering inditement of the ‘Old Boy’ system and its colossal failings.
Superbly well written with lots of personal details and information from all sides. Highly recommended.

Philby's record as a cold blooded and ruthless killer is worse than that of any serial killer of modern times. He succeeded because he was an affable and credible individual who was always good company, especially when alcohol was freely available. Such have been the qualities of every good conman since time immemorial, but this one took lives, not money, and many of those who died did so at the hands of the NKVD and the KGB in the most horrific circumstances. The almost laughable comedy of errors on the part of those in authority who counted themselves his friends and even those who did not, continued until the the last day or so before his ultimate extraction by the Russians, despite serious concerns having been raised by the CIA and FBI. His removal was, in fact, completed with the tacit compliance of the UK government who felt this would be a preferable outcome to placing him on trial with the inevitable scrambled egg trickling down the face of the Establishment that would ensue. There is some grim but meagre satisfaction in knowing that, regretting nothing, Philby ended his days as a lonely drunk in Moscow.
This is a superb read, and is a perfect example of how an exceptionally well narrated history can outdo any work of fiction. Certainly the best non-fiction book I read in 2014.