Espionage Isn't Always Exciting: The Spy Who Came in from the Co-Op

The Spy Who Came in from the Co-Op: Melita Norwood and the Ending of Cold War Espionage by David Burke

The Boydell Press

Pp. 175

It should be quite difficult to make such an exciting story sound so dull, and yet David Burke manages it. While he is good at painting the big picture, he gets bogged down in tedious detail too often. Melita Norwood was the last of the atomic spies to be ‘run to ground’ in 1999, aged 87. She was deemed too old to prosecute and there were protocols which prevented her questioning, but the press had a field day, with headlines including the title of this book. Burke, however, mainly concentrates on the history of espionage during the cold war period, rather than her particular part in it, which seems like a missed opportunity.

Melita Norwood shared atomic secrets with Russia, which shortened the Soviet Union’s atomic bomb project by about five years. As secretary for G.L. Bailey, Director of the British Non-Ferrous Metals Research Association on the Tube Alloys project, she had access to classified information, which she chose to share with Russia because she believed in the Communist Party, but she also knew that if only one side had the power, then the situation could be lethal.

Ursula Kuczynski (Red Sonya) was Melita Norwood’s controller between 1941 and 1944, and the book that Ben Macintyre wrote about her, Agent Sonya: Lover, Mother, Soldier, Spy, was interesting enough to lead to this one. In some respects, their spying trajectory was similar. As Burke writes, her spying career had spanned two very different eras of Communism. “Here was a woman who had spent her childhood among an eclectic mixture of anarchists, suffragettes, Tolstoyans and the pioneers of British socialism, who had eagerly embraced the ideals of Lenin’s October Revolution. Their Utopianism remained with her throughout her life and blinded her to the worst excesses of Stalinism.” Also familiar to anyone who has read the above book are the descriptions of the ‘brush pass’ – the highly convoluted meetings between operatives carrying explicit items in a specified hand – and the cover reasons for the meetings, including vegetarian societies; football teams and philatelists.

There was clear evidence against Melita Norwood, but it was ignored “on a junior level” until she was outed. It was still going on when Stella Rimmington, Director General of MI5 had to answer questions about it in 1993. Many couldn’t believe that the timid housewife could have nefarious motives. The Norwoods moved to Bexleyheath in 1947, which was described as “the very epitome of post-war smugness in an age of austerity, boasting houses with fake Tudor beams, spacious parks and golf courses. It was middle country, middle class, middle management and middlebrow.” This was something the authorities wished to cover up as their focus was demanded elsewhere.

Burke writes that, “The British have a peculiar attitude towards spies ranging from fascination and approval to extreme horror.” He understands that when the story broke, the newspapers were keen to portray Melita Norwood “as a Mata Hari – the great grand-mother spy who had given the Soviets a blueprint of the atomic bomb that threatened the security of the West.” This may not have been strictly true, but the papers love a good story and are not averse to several large helpings of hyperbole. Burke acknowledges, “The fact that she prepared homemade chutney, drank tea from a Che Guevara mug, shopped at the Co-op for ideological reasons, supported CND, enjoyed gardening and did a delivery round for the Morning Star at the age of eighty-seven only added to the excitement.”

He posits himself as above all this scurrilous gossip-mongering and sticks to facts in a dull, dry manner, more’s the pity: this could have been a gripping yarn if he were less po-faced about it all. And, yes, Joan Stanley was the code-name for Melita Norwood and the subject of the film Red Joan, which is far more entertaining.