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Marcus Klingberg obituary Marcus Klingberg obituary
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It is, frankly, a wonder that Marcus Klingberg, who has died aged 97, lived as long as he did. A Polish Jew who fled Warsaw in 1939 as the Germans invaded (and eventually murdered his family), he served in the Red Army as a medical officer, was wounded and placed behind the lines to fight epidemics of typhoid fever, dysentery and a deadly fungal toxin. After the second world war, he went to Israel, where he served in the Israeli army, became a respected epidemiologist, and worked at Israel’s top secret chemical and biological weapons laboratory at Ness Ziona, dedicated to the study of rare and deadly infectious diseases, including the plague and West Nile virus.It is, frankly, a wonder that Marcus Klingberg, who has died aged 97, lived as long as he did. A Polish Jew who fled Warsaw in 1939 as the Germans invaded (and eventually murdered his family), he served in the Red Army as a medical officer, was wounded and placed behind the lines to fight epidemics of typhoid fever, dysentery and a deadly fungal toxin. After the second world war, he went to Israel, where he served in the Israeli army, became a respected epidemiologist, and worked at Israel’s top secret chemical and biological weapons laboratory at Ness Ziona, dedicated to the study of rare and deadly infectious diseases, including the plague and West Nile virus.
In 1963, Klingberg was recruited by the KGB. He served Moscow faithfully for two decades, becoming the highest ranking Soviet spy in Israel. He was caught in 1983, aged 64, after the intervention of a Russian double agent. He tried twice to kill himself under interrogation, confessed, and was sentenced to 20 years in jail, the first 10 served in solitary confinement, where he suffered from serious heart problems. Thirty-nine members of the Israeli parliament, the Knesset, and Amnesty International launched separate appeals for his early release.In 1963, Klingberg was recruited by the KGB. He served Moscow faithfully for two decades, becoming the highest ranking Soviet spy in Israel. He was caught in 1983, aged 64, after the intervention of a Russian double agent. He tried twice to kill himself under interrogation, confessed, and was sentenced to 20 years in jail, the first 10 served in solitary confinement, where he suffered from serious heart problems. Thirty-nine members of the Israeli parliament, the Knesset, and Amnesty International launched separate appeals for his early release.
First he was placed under house arrest, and then, aged 85, allowed to go into exile in Paris to be with his daughter, Sylvia. He lived in one room on his Israeli army pension, paid on the condition that he would never say anything about his secret work. His lawyer Michael Sfard explained that Klingberg navigated the 20th-century’s tumultuous events “with a certain dangerous pretence of controlling history rather than being controlled by it”.First he was placed under house arrest, and then, aged 85, allowed to go into exile in Paris to be with his daughter, Sylvia. He lived in one room on his Israeli army pension, paid on the condition that he would never say anything about his secret work. His lawyer Michael Sfard explained that Klingberg navigated the 20th-century’s tumultuous events “with a certain dangerous pretence of controlling history rather than being controlled by it”.
Yet Klingberg was far from the popular image of a cold war spy, barely 5ft tall, with a bald, outsized head, finely rimmed spectacles and a trace of a goatee, all perched on a slender frame. He was dubbed a “master spy” by many in the media because he had recruited first his wife, Wanda (nee Yashinskaya), also a Polish Jew who survived the Warsaw ghetto, and, second, a scientist friend and colleague at Ness Ziona.Yet Klingberg was far from the popular image of a cold war spy, barely 5ft tall, with a bald, outsized head, finely rimmed spectacles and a trace of a goatee, all perched on a slender frame. He was dubbed a “master spy” by many in the media because he had recruited first his wife, Wanda (nee Yashinskaya), also a Polish Jew who survived the Warsaw ghetto, and, second, a scientist friend and colleague at Ness Ziona.
He arranged meetings with his KGB minder “Victor” by drawing coded signs in chalk on concrete walls in Tel Aviv, he learned the spycraft essentials of invisible ink and miniature cameras, although he never put them to any use, and divulged his secrets over vodka and caviar in the backroom of a Russian Orthodox church. He was awarded the Order of the Red Banner of Labour, the Soviet Union’s second rank decoration after the Order of Lenin. He arranged meetings with his KGB minder “Victor” by drawing coded signs in chalk on concrete walls in Tel Aviv, learned the spycraft essentials of invisible ink and miniature cameras, although he never put them to any use, and divulged his secrets over vodka and caviar in the backroom of a Russian Orthodox church. He was awarded the Order of the Red Banner of Labour, the Soviet Union’s second rank decoration after the Order of Lenin.
Why did he agree to spy for Moscow? In 2007, he published his biography in Hebrew, The Last Spy, written with Sfard. He wrote that, like some of the leading scientists who worked on the American atom bomb, he believed the secrets and the power of weapons of mass destruction should be shared. Then both sides would be less likely to use them and more likely to ban them.Why did he agree to spy for Moscow? In 2007, he published his biography in Hebrew, The Last Spy, written with Sfard. He wrote that, like some of the leading scientists who worked on the American atom bomb, he believed the secrets and the power of weapons of mass destruction should be shared. Then both sides would be less likely to use them and more likely to ban them.
But he also had his personal reason. He felt that he owed the Russians a debt for, as he put it, saving the world against the Nazis. “I am and always was a communist,” he told me when we met in 2013. Moscow never paid him a penny, he said. Israel’s security services objected vigorously to his release, saying he was still a security risk, and producing in court the secretive, and legally unassailable, assertion that he “knew things that he did not know that he knew”.But he also had his personal reason. He felt that he owed the Russians a debt for, as he put it, saving the world against the Nazis. “I am and always was a communist,” he told me when we met in 2013. Moscow never paid him a penny, he said. Israel’s security services objected vigorously to his release, saying he was still a security risk, and producing in court the secretive, and legally unassailable, assertion that he “knew things that he did not know that he knew”.
While he was spying for Moscow, he also became an internationally known epidemiologist and published numerous scientific papers. He was especially concerned with the potential birth defects caused by modern chemical concoctions, including the drug thalidomide and dioxins. He endeared himself to some of his fellow epidemiologists. Iain Chalmers, the British health services researcher, who met Klingberg before he was arrested, never knew about his espionage, renewed the friendship after Klingberg was released from prison, and was amazed that he had survived. Chalmers recalled: “He was always charming, full of jokes and good humour.” Klingberg told me he used to pass the time in prison setting himself epidemiological puzzles and solving them.While he was spying for Moscow, he also became an internationally known epidemiologist and published numerous scientific papers. He was especially concerned with the potential birth defects caused by modern chemical concoctions, including the drug thalidomide and dioxins. He endeared himself to some of his fellow epidemiologists. Iain Chalmers, the British health services researcher, who met Klingberg before he was arrested, never knew about his espionage, renewed the friendship after Klingberg was released from prison, and was amazed that he had survived. Chalmers recalled: “He was always charming, full of jokes and good humour.” Klingberg told me he used to pass the time in prison setting himself epidemiological puzzles and solving them.
On his 95th birthday, Sylvia invited friends (including of me, as I was writing his story for the Observer) to a Paris bistro on the Left Bank. After the cake, topped by a sparkler, and a chorus of For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow, Avigdor Feldman, also Klingberg’s lawyer, leaned across the dinner table. “Come on Marek [his preferred Polish version of Marcus]. What is it that you know that you don’t know that you know? Tell us.” Klingberg smiled and shook his head. On his 95th birthday, Sylvia invited friends (including me, as I was writing his story for the Observer) to a Paris bistro on the Left Bank. After the cake, topped by a sparkler, and a chorus of For He’s a Jolly Good Fellow, Avigdor Feldman, also Klingberg’s lawyer, leaned across the dinner table. “Come on, Marek [his preferred Polish version of Marcus]. What is it that you know that you don’t know that you know? Tell us.” Klingberg smiled and shook his head.
Wanda died in 1990. He is survived by Sylvia, and a grandson, Ian, a member of the French Communist party, and an elected member of the Council of Paris.Wanda died in 1990. He is survived by Sylvia, and a grandson, Ian, a member of the French Communist party, and an elected member of the Council of Paris.
• Marcus Klingberg, epidemiologist and spy, born 7 October 1918; died 30 November 2015• Marcus Klingberg, epidemiologist and spy, born 7 October 1918; died 30 November 2015