This article is from the source 'guardian' and was first published or seen on . It last changed over 40 days ago and won't be checked again for changes.
You can find the current article at its original source at https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2017/jun/16/moment-that-changed-me-finding-out-dad-was-spy
The article has changed 5 times. There is an RSS feed of changes available.
| Version 3 | Version 4 |
|---|---|
| A moment that changed me: finding out at 15 that Dad was a spy | A moment that changed me: finding out at 15 that Dad was a spy |
| (11 days later) | |
| What Dad actually did for work had always been a mystery. I’d get a different, confusing, vague answer whenever I asked him directly: “I work in the Foreign Office … I work in communications … I am a civil servant.” I didn’t have an account that I could tell the kids at school, whose parents were dinner ladies, electricians, farm workers, people who worked in offices. | What Dad actually did for work had always been a mystery. I’d get a different, confusing, vague answer whenever I asked him directly: “I work in the Foreign Office … I work in communications … I am a civil servant.” I didn’t have an account that I could tell the kids at school, whose parents were dinner ladies, electricians, farm workers, people who worked in offices. |
| In addition to this, there had been a lot of weird stuff going on in my home over the years. We moved fairly often and we lived in random places: a British army base in Mönchengladbach, Germany; semi-detached houses on the outskirts of Hereford and in Wembley; a village in the middle of nowhere; spacious apartments with maids in colonial Asia. We were always disconnected from extended family, and had few lasting friends. | In addition to this, there had been a lot of weird stuff going on in my home over the years. We moved fairly often and we lived in random places: a British army base in Mönchengladbach, Germany; semi-detached houses on the outskirts of Hereford and in Wembley; a village in the middle of nowhere; spacious apartments with maids in colonial Asia. We were always disconnected from extended family, and had few lasting friends. |
| I didn’t understand why Dad spent so much time away in Cyprus and Belfast, or how he got so good at Morse code. When the Iron Curtain was still closed a Russian guy was the focus of a series of meetings in the empty house next door. My mum used an old diplomatic bag to store pegs and washing line. Sometimes the dining-room table was covered with big briefcases full of heavy-duty radio equipment. My brothers and I were tasked with transmitting and receiving a series of numbers from a strange sealed notepad while Dad put his feet up in front of Match of the Day and emptied a Watneys four-pack. | I didn’t understand why Dad spent so much time away in Cyprus and Belfast, or how he got so good at Morse code. When the Iron Curtain was still closed a Russian guy was the focus of a series of meetings in the empty house next door. My mum used an old diplomatic bag to store pegs and washing line. Sometimes the dining-room table was covered with big briefcases full of heavy-duty radio equipment. My brothers and I were tasked with transmitting and receiving a series of numbers from a strange sealed notepad while Dad put his feet up in front of Match of the Day and emptied a Watneys four-pack. |
| At 15 I understood I was queer but I didn’t have the confidence or opportunity to share that knowledge with anyone. There was a lot of homophobia about – which my family seized on gleefully, and that didn’t help. Instead, I kept stumm and went through a phase of experimenting with my gender expression by trying on Dad’s clothes when the house was empty. He had some pretty sharp suits custom-made for him when we had lived in Hong Kong. I was in his closet. | At 15 I understood I was queer but I didn’t have the confidence or opportunity to share that knowledge with anyone. There was a lot of homophobia about – which my family seized on gleefully, and that didn’t help. Instead, I kept stumm and went through a phase of experimenting with my gender expression by trying on Dad’s clothes when the house was empty. He had some pretty sharp suits custom-made for him when we had lived in Hong Kong. I was in his closet. |
| On one of these occasions I was rooting through his drawers for a natty cummerbund to try on. But I found something else entirely buried under his socks and pants: a false passport. It looked like any other passport; it was definitely him in the picture but it had a different name. Why would he have that? I couldn’t imagine that he was up to anything criminal, but it was obvious he was doing something so secret that he needed false papers. It dawned on me that Dad was spying. | On one of these occasions I was rooting through his drawers for a natty cummerbund to try on. But I found something else entirely buried under his socks and pants: a false passport. It looked like any other passport; it was definitely him in the picture but it had a different name. Why would he have that? I couldn’t imagine that he was up to anything criminal, but it was obvious he was doing something so secret that he needed false papers. It dawned on me that Dad was spying. |
| Dad was a persistent gaslighter, and denial was a way of life to him, but my discovery enabled me to start asking questions about what he was doing and to trust my own eyes and ears. The more silence and obfuscation he offered, the greater my curiosity. Over 30 years have passed since that moment. Dad has been dead for the last five of them, and I have continued to try to join the dots. | Dad was a persistent gaslighter, and denial was a way of life to him, but my discovery enabled me to start asking questions about what he was doing and to trust my own eyes and ears. The more silence and obfuscation he offered, the greater my curiosity. Over 30 years have passed since that moment. Dad has been dead for the last five of them, and I have continued to try to join the dots. |
| He started out by working on the buses in Derbyshire, but I’m still not sure how he made the leap to bugging places | He started out by working on the buses in Derbyshire, but I’m still not sure how he made the leap to bugging places |
| I know that he started out by working on the buses in his native Derbyshire, but I’m still not sure how he made the leap from clipping tickets to bugging places. He said he went to vocational college and then answered an ad in the paper. Occasionally, Dad would surrender some titbit, admitting that he was with MI6 at a time when it was a secret government organisation. He worked in signals intelligence, covertly listening to people – hence all that radio equipment. | I know that he started out by working on the buses in his native Derbyshire, but I’m still not sure how he made the leap from clipping tickets to bugging places. He said he went to vocational college and then answered an ad in the paper. Occasionally, Dad would surrender some titbit, admitting that he was with MI6 at a time when it was a secret government organisation. He worked in signals intelligence, covertly listening to people – hence all that radio equipment. |
| Nobody can keep a lie watertight for ever, especially in the face of an inquisitive daughter, and sometimes there would be significant leaks. I’m surprised the enemy didn’t try to recruit me. Dad was very excited about the advent of mobile phones: he explained that they were great for people like him because they emit a signal even when they are switched off. When yuppies and bankers were using brick-sized phones, Dad brought home a powerful radio and we spent a happy evening together listening to strangers’ conversations over headphones, a memory we cherished. He told me that it was very important I never tell anyone that this had happened, so I didn’t. | Nobody can keep a lie watertight for ever, especially in the face of an inquisitive daughter, and sometimes there would be significant leaks. I’m surprised the enemy didn’t try to recruit me. Dad was very excited about the advent of mobile phones: he explained that they were great for people like him because they emit a signal even when they are switched off. When yuppies and bankers were using brick-sized phones, Dad brought home a powerful radio and we spent a happy evening together listening to strangers’ conversations over headphones, a memory we cherished. He told me that it was very important I never tell anyone that this had happened, so I didn’t. |
| The Firm, as Dad called it, knew that agents’ children were a liability so they dangled the carrot of free private boarding school in front of them to keep us out of the picture. Mum and Dad were the first generation in my family not to go down the mines or become skivvies, they knew what lay behind them. My parents were desperate that their offspring should come to see themselves as confident, entitled, well-educated and to have social capital and opportunities that had never been extended to them. The upper-class MI6 leadership was made up of people my father respected and wanted to emulate. | The Firm, as Dad called it, knew that agents’ children were a liability so they dangled the carrot of free private boarding school in front of them to keep us out of the picture. Mum and Dad were the first generation in my family not to go down the mines or become skivvies, they knew what lay behind them. My parents were desperate that their offspring should come to see themselves as confident, entitled, well-educated and to have social capital and opportunities that had never been extended to them. The upper-class MI6 leadership was made up of people my father respected and wanted to emulate. |
| The state exploited this longing and so my brothers were shipped away at six and seven years old, never to return. Later – until I managed to escape – I spent a year in what was essentially a prison for posh children. A growing body of evidence has shown that these institutions inflict deep psychological wounds, and this has indeed been my lasting experience. My eldest brother died at 24, and I wonder whether things would have been different for him had he been allowed to stay at home. I now understand that my childhood and family were shaped by state intrusion and secrecy. | The state exploited this longing and so my brothers were shipped away at six and seven years old, never to return. Later – until I managed to escape – I spent a year in what was essentially a prison for posh children. A growing body of evidence has shown that these institutions inflict deep psychological wounds, and this has indeed been my lasting experience. My eldest brother died at 24, and I wonder whether things would have been different for him had he been allowed to stay at home. I now understand that my childhood and family were shaped by state intrusion and secrecy. |
| As far as I know, Dad’s stretch with MI6 ended in the mid-1990s, when he took early retirement. He had been drinking heavily for some time by then, and had made some disastrous life choices. I suspect he was a bit of a problem. He found a part-time job washing up in a village pub. Unlike James Bond, a spy who always attracts too much attention, Dad was a pleb who could slip away without suspicion. | As far as I know, Dad’s stretch with MI6 ended in the mid-1990s, when he took early retirement. He had been drinking heavily for some time by then, and had made some disastrous life choices. I suspect he was a bit of a problem. He found a part-time job washing up in a village pub. Unlike James Bond, a spy who always attracts too much attention, Dad was a pleb who could slip away without suspicion. |
| As a girl I had had no choice but to trust my dad, but I still have many unanswered questions, and I may never know the truth of his life. Who was he? Why would he agree to do the state’s dirty work? He had a cynical cold war mentality, and saw himself as heroically protecting British citizens, but where was his conscience? How come he saw others as expendable? I asked him once about the morality of his work, and he couldn’t give me a straight answer, but implied that he had shielded a source. He was proud of this. | As a girl I had had no choice but to trust my dad, but I still have many unanswered questions, and I may never know the truth of his life. Who was he? Why would he agree to do the state’s dirty work? He had a cynical cold war mentality, and saw himself as heroically protecting British citizens, but where was his conscience? How come he saw others as expendable? I asked him once about the morality of his work, and he couldn’t give me a straight answer, but implied that he had shielded a source. He was proud of this. |
| Although I reject much of what Dad held dear in his work, there’s a curious crossover between us. As an adolescent I took pleasure in snooping, finding dope paraphernalia and love letters in my brother’s coat pockets; a neighbour’s porn stash in the back of a cupboard. As I grew older I became interested in the things people don’t usually show, the stuff that lies behind the mask, the stories people don’t feel able to admit. I ended up training as a therapist, and these days I am tightly bound to an ethical framework that holds confidentiality in high esteem, enabling me to help people, with their consent, overcome problems safely. I, too, listen to secrets. | Although I reject much of what Dad held dear in his work, there’s a curious crossover between us. As an adolescent I took pleasure in snooping, finding dope paraphernalia and love letters in my brother’s coat pockets; a neighbour’s porn stash in the back of a cupboard. As I grew older I became interested in the things people don’t usually show, the stuff that lies behind the mask, the stories people don’t feel able to admit. I ended up training as a therapist, and these days I am tightly bound to an ethical framework that holds confidentiality in high esteem, enabling me to help people, with their consent, overcome problems safely. I, too, listen to secrets. |
| Espionage | Espionage |
| A moment that changed me | A moment that changed me |
| MI6 | MI6 |
| comment | comment |
| Share on Facebook | Share on Facebook |
| Share on Twitter | Share on Twitter |
| Share via Email | Share via Email |
| Share on LinkedIn | Share on LinkedIn |
| Share on Pinterest | Share on Pinterest |
| Share on Google+ | Share on Google+ |
| Share on WhatsApp | Share on WhatsApp |
| Share on Messenger | Share on Messenger |
| Reuse this content | Reuse this content |