Tuesday, February 8, 2011
Saturday, January 29, 2011
British Intelligence and the 1916 Mediation Mission of Colonel Edward M. House - Intelligence and National Security
British Intelligence and the 1916 Mediation Mission of Colonel Edward M. House - Intelligence and National Security
Abstract
Colonel Edward M. House, the close personal confidant of American President Woodrow Wilson, disembarked in Great Britain in January 1916 on a mission to bring the First World War to a close under the auspices of American mediation. Although his mission, which culminated in a secret pact between the United States and Great Britain known as the House-Grey Memorandum, has been studied by several scholars, the involvement of British intelligence with respect to that mission has never received more than cursory attention. Through a careful analysis of the surviving documents, this article reconstructs British intelligence's activities with respect to House's mission, examines the countermeasures that House employed as he attempted to protect the secrecy of his negotiations, delineates the role played by different British intelligence agencies and assesses their response to their findings.
Monday, January 3, 2011
The Golden Age of Soviet Espionage
Andrei Vandenko, Itogi 4:18PM GMT 02 Jan 2011 -- UK Telegraph
Yuri Kobaladze was a spy for Russia, and for seven years (1977 to 1984) he was based in London. He lifts the lid on his time as a Cold Warrior
Were you recruited to spy as soon as you entered the Moscow State Institute of International Relations?
Everything happened when I was working at TASS [the government-controlled news network]. From there I went to the third (English) section of the First Main Administration of the KGB.
When did your wife find out that your work in journalism was just a front?
I told her even before we were married, but after that I tried to let Alla know as little as possible. Only once did I ever ask her to help me – by making a phone call, that was all. Her hands were trembling, her face was streaming with sweat. After that, I promised myself never ever to do that again.
Where did you learn the craft of espionage?
At the Krasnoznamenny Institute of the KGB. The focus was on foreign languages and special disciplines. The craft of espionage hasn’t changed much in recent decades. The methods and approaches are the same, only the technical equipment has improved.
Did the English know you were a spy from the start?
It wasn’t difficult to figure out. All they had to do was compare my work schedule with Boris Kalyagin’s (a London correspondent), compare the frequency of visits to the embassy, notice a certain license in my behaviour and an abundance of contacts.
There were some amusing episodes. Kalyagin set up an interview with the editor of an influential paper. I acted as cameraman and I asked Kalyagin to pose questions that interested me. But he became so wrapped up in the conversation that he forgot all about my request. What to do? The interview was over and as I was gathering up the equipment, I asked the interviewee, by the way, as it were: “Mister Smith, what do you think about US-Chinese relations?” Mister Smith looked up for a second, grinned and said: “Russia is an invincible country if even the cameramen are interested in such questions.”
Some of our best sources were British journalists. The irony is that these reporters thought the real Soviet correspondents were the spies, not us. We would travel all over the country in search of information, then be up all night getting pickled in pubs with our British colleagues.
I had some real friends among those English reporters, despite the fact that the years when I was based in England were not the easiest in terms of relations between our countries. Those were the years of Margaret Thatcher, her relationship with America, missiles aimed at the “evil empire”, and Soviet troops in Afghanistan. Every day was so tense.
I’ll never forget the scene with [theatre director] Yuri Lyubimov when he was invited to London to stage Crime and Punishment . On the eve of his arrival, we received a telegram saying that the director, famous for his anti-Soviet remarks, should be watched carefully. He was indeed very forthright; Yuri called a spade a spade.
He became the subject of a heated debate at a Party meeting an the embassy. What should be done about this man who publicly insulted the Motherland? In the end, the decision was taken to send a messenger to the theatre to give Lyubimov a stern talking-to and ask him to come to the embassy “for a conversation”.
Pasha, the cultural attaché, was nominated for this task, the sweetest and quietest of men. The day of the premiere, the press and their photographers were jostling backstage. Pasha, feeling horribly nervous, walked up to Lyubimov and was at pains to choose the right words: “The ambassador would like to see you since certain remarks of yours…” Lyubimov didn’t let him finish and began shouting: “They’ve sent a KGB agent in here! He’s threatening me with reprisals!”
By then Lyubimov had decided to remain in the West. He needed an excuse to create a public scandal, and here it was. Poor Pasha couldn’t get out of the theatre fast enough. The last thing he said to Lyubimov in his panic was: “Watch out, Yuri Petrovich! There’s been a crime, beware the punishment!” The phrase was splashed across the front pages with commentary to match. The editors claimed that the bony arm of the KGB was at the maestro’s throat. That’s how legends are born. It all happened before my eyes; but the “office” had nothing to do with it.
Did Britain try to recruit you?
The British knew very well with whom it made sense to ingratiate themselves, and with whom it was useless.
No one came near me, but they did try to lure a friend of mine.
They promised him a house, a car, a job and half a million pounds in expenses – a colossal sum. I guess they had some compromising information about him, although even now my friend won’t tell me what it was.
At the time he said to his would-be recruiters: “How will I be able to look my father in the eye?” They gave up… it’s not everyone who can live with a sin on his soul, though traitors try to justify their treason.
Oleg Gordievsky cultivated the image of a Soviet Kim Philby who, in essence, was a traitor. Philby first chose the path of serving communism and only then entered into contact with Soviet intelligence and, at its request, went to work for British intelligence. Oleg, too, tries to give the impression that he went over to the enemy not because of money, but for reasons of ideology.
I consider myself a fortunate person. It’s through my work that I came to know people whom I would never have met otherwise – people who became my friends.
I feel nostalgic for Britain.By means of natural selection I have come to the conclusion that there is nothing better than a 16-year-old Lagavulin whisky, which I first tried in England. Later, in the Nineties in Moscow, everyone became interested in whisky, and I was regularly called in as an expert.
By the way, I once beat the owners of a London pub in their traditional beer-drinking contest: a yard of ale. The Englishmen were disgraced. They didn’t realise that here was a Georgian able to drink from a horn!
In short, I left a bright trail in the history of Britain, and when my tour was over Margaret Thatcher’s press secretary was at my farewell party. I doubt he knew I worked for Soviet intelligence, he wouldn’t have come if he had, but I was pleased.
Curriculum Vitae: Yuri Kobaladze
NATIONALITY:
Georgian
AGE:
61
STATUS:
Married, with two daughters
EDUCATION:
Moscow Institute of International Relations, graduating in International Journalism (1972).
EXPERIENCE:
• Foreign Intelligence Service of the KGB (1972-1999)
• Soviet news agency TASS
• British correspondent, Gosteleradio
• Central office of PGU, KGB
• Director, press bureau of the Foreign Intelligence Service
• First deputy director, news agency ITAR-TASS
• Since 2000: executive director of investment bank Renaissance Capital; later managing director of retail group X5.
Yuri Kobaladze was a spy for Russia, and for seven years (1977 to 1984) he was based in London. He lifts the lid on his time as a Cold Warrior
Were you recruited to spy as soon as you entered the Moscow State Institute of International Relations?
Everything happened when I was working at TASS [the government-controlled news network]. From there I went to the third (English) section of the First Main Administration of the KGB.
When did your wife find out that your work in journalism was just a front?
I told her even before we were married, but after that I tried to let Alla know as little as possible. Only once did I ever ask her to help me – by making a phone call, that was all. Her hands were trembling, her face was streaming with sweat. After that, I promised myself never ever to do that again.
Where did you learn the craft of espionage?
At the Krasnoznamenny Institute of the KGB. The focus was on foreign languages and special disciplines. The craft of espionage hasn’t changed much in recent decades. The methods and approaches are the same, only the technical equipment has improved.
Did the English know you were a spy from the start?
It wasn’t difficult to figure out. All they had to do was compare my work schedule with Boris Kalyagin’s (a London correspondent), compare the frequency of visits to the embassy, notice a certain license in my behaviour and an abundance of contacts.
There were some amusing episodes. Kalyagin set up an interview with the editor of an influential paper. I acted as cameraman and I asked Kalyagin to pose questions that interested me. But he became so wrapped up in the conversation that he forgot all about my request. What to do? The interview was over and as I was gathering up the equipment, I asked the interviewee, by the way, as it were: “Mister Smith, what do you think about US-Chinese relations?” Mister Smith looked up for a second, grinned and said: “Russia is an invincible country if even the cameramen are interested in such questions.”
Some of our best sources were British journalists. The irony is that these reporters thought the real Soviet correspondents were the spies, not us. We would travel all over the country in search of information, then be up all night getting pickled in pubs with our British colleagues.
I had some real friends among those English reporters, despite the fact that the years when I was based in England were not the easiest in terms of relations between our countries. Those were the years of Margaret Thatcher, her relationship with America, missiles aimed at the “evil empire”, and Soviet troops in Afghanistan. Every day was so tense.
I’ll never forget the scene with [theatre director] Yuri Lyubimov when he was invited to London to stage Crime and Punishment . On the eve of his arrival, we received a telegram saying that the director, famous for his anti-Soviet remarks, should be watched carefully. He was indeed very forthright; Yuri called a spade a spade.
He became the subject of a heated debate at a Party meeting an the embassy. What should be done about this man who publicly insulted the Motherland? In the end, the decision was taken to send a messenger to the theatre to give Lyubimov a stern talking-to and ask him to come to the embassy “for a conversation”.
Pasha, the cultural attaché, was nominated for this task, the sweetest and quietest of men. The day of the premiere, the press and their photographers were jostling backstage. Pasha, feeling horribly nervous, walked up to Lyubimov and was at pains to choose the right words: “The ambassador would like to see you since certain remarks of yours…” Lyubimov didn’t let him finish and began shouting: “They’ve sent a KGB agent in here! He’s threatening me with reprisals!”
By then Lyubimov had decided to remain in the West. He needed an excuse to create a public scandal, and here it was. Poor Pasha couldn’t get out of the theatre fast enough. The last thing he said to Lyubimov in his panic was: “Watch out, Yuri Petrovich! There’s been a crime, beware the punishment!” The phrase was splashed across the front pages with commentary to match. The editors claimed that the bony arm of the KGB was at the maestro’s throat. That’s how legends are born. It all happened before my eyes; but the “office” had nothing to do with it.
Did Britain try to recruit you?
The British knew very well with whom it made sense to ingratiate themselves, and with whom it was useless.
No one came near me, but they did try to lure a friend of mine.
They promised him a house, a car, a job and half a million pounds in expenses – a colossal sum. I guess they had some compromising information about him, although even now my friend won’t tell me what it was.
At the time he said to his would-be recruiters: “How will I be able to look my father in the eye?” They gave up… it’s not everyone who can live with a sin on his soul, though traitors try to justify their treason.
Oleg Gordievsky cultivated the image of a Soviet Kim Philby who, in essence, was a traitor. Philby first chose the path of serving communism and only then entered into contact with Soviet intelligence and, at its request, went to work for British intelligence. Oleg, too, tries to give the impression that he went over to the enemy not because of money, but for reasons of ideology.
I consider myself a fortunate person. It’s through my work that I came to know people whom I would never have met otherwise – people who became my friends.
I feel nostalgic for Britain.By means of natural selection I have come to the conclusion that there is nothing better than a 16-year-old Lagavulin whisky, which I first tried in England. Later, in the Nineties in Moscow, everyone became interested in whisky, and I was regularly called in as an expert.
By the way, I once beat the owners of a London pub in their traditional beer-drinking contest: a yard of ale. The Englishmen were disgraced. They didn’t realise that here was a Georgian able to drink from a horn!
In short, I left a bright trail in the history of Britain, and when my tour was over Margaret Thatcher’s press secretary was at my farewell party. I doubt he knew I worked for Soviet intelligence, he wouldn’t have come if he had, but I was pleased.
Curriculum Vitae: Yuri Kobaladze
NATIONALITY:
Georgian
AGE:
61
STATUS:
Married, with two daughters
EDUCATION:
Moscow Institute of International Relations, graduating in International Journalism (1972).
EXPERIENCE:
• Foreign Intelligence Service of the KGB (1972-1999)
• Soviet news agency TASS
• British correspondent, Gosteleradio
• Central office of PGU, KGB
• Director, press bureau of the Foreign Intelligence Service
• First deputy director, news agency ITAR-TASS
• Since 2000: executive director of investment bank Renaissance Capital; later managing director of retail group X5.
###
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Saturday, January 1, 2011
The End of German Military Counterintelligence?
German Co-ruling Party Urges Disbanding of Army Spy Agency: Report
IRNA - Islamic Republic News Agency
Berlin, Dec 31, IRNA -- A leading lawmaker of the co-governing Free Democratic Party (FDP) called for abolishing the country's military counter-intelligence agency MAD.
Talking to the daily Luebecker Nachrichten on Friday, Christian Ahrendt said Germany's security could be boosted, if MAD's 1,300-strong workforce could be used for other tasks like thwarting cyber attacks.
He also cited cost factors such as MAD's annual budget of 73 million euros as another reason for permanently closing the doors of the German army's counter-intelligence unit.
Ahrendt stressed that Germany domestic secret service, Verfassungschutz, and its foreign counterpart, Bundesnachrichtendienst (BND), could jointly assume MAD's duties.
Based in the western city of Cologne, MAD has around 12 regional offices throughout the country, including Hanover, Munich, Stuttgart, Leipzig, Mainz, Kiel, Koblenz, Rostock, Kiel and Wilhelmshaven.
Established during the Cold War in 1956, MAD is under the control of the German defense ministry.
OT**1420
Islamic Republic News Agency/IRNA NewsCode: 30162484
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