Sunday 15 May 2016

WHO BOMBED THE HILTON by RACHEL LANDERS


WHO BOMBED THE HILTON

RACHEL LANDERS

NewSouth, 2016, 401 pages

 
Review by Phil Shannon


Even the New Tricks scriptwriters would have a tough time cracking the four-decades-old cold case of Australia’s first terrorist attack, implies Rachel Landers, an ABC and SBS documentary film-maker, in her book on the bombing of the Hilton Hotel in Sydney, which killed two garbage collectors and a police officer in February, 1978.

 

The hotel was the venue for a Commonwealth Heads of Government Regional Meeting (CHOGRM), hosting eleven political leaders from the Asia-Pacific region, including the Indian Prime Minister.  Indian officials had recently been the targets of a global wave of knife attacks and bombings by followers of the Ananda Marga religious sect in response to the jailing of its leader in India for the murder of six defecting members.

 

When the Hilton was bombed (followed by four other related bomb incidents in Australia), the Australian branch of the Ananda Marga (and its mysterious and fanatical Universal Proutist Revolutionary Federation cell) seemed the obvious fit.  But was it just a fit-up, asked the sceptics.  Despite the massive security resources dedicated to CHOGRM, someone, nevertheless, “placed a bomb in a garbage bin which lay undisturbed and uninspected for 48 hours”, contrary to standard security protocol.

 

Perhaps the security services themselves (ASIO and the New South Wales Police’s Special Branch), under the theory of cui bono (‘who benefits’), planted the bomb, intending to ‘discover’ it and so justify their future necessity to ‘national security’ after the 1960s long-haired radicals in the street and the 1970s short-haired reformers in the Whitlam Labor government had outed the political police as anti-democratic bastions of political conservatism.

 

Despite a past documentary exposing “the endemic corruption, the blue walls of silence and the like” in a Special Branch famed for its “nepotism, ineptitude, ‘dirt’ files and good times”, Landers doesn’t believe the secret police bombed the Hilton.  Such speculation, she believes, is the “fanciful” province of conspiracy nutters, and motivated by hatred of the reactionary federal Liberal government of Malcolm Fraser which had sacked its predecessor, the democratically-elected, ASIO-raiding Labor government.

 

Landers also gives short shrift to the public story that three Margiis (Tim Anderson, Paul Alister and Ross Dunn) were the perpetrators.  This was bizarre nonsense, she says, concocted on the unverifiable say-so of a dodgy informer, a self-serving convicted armed robber, and an ex-Margii, supplemented by planted evidence and police verballing.  The frame-up of the three Margiis was, says Landers, a terrible “miscarriage of justice”, as the courts later agreed when all were freed on appeal.

 

Landers leaves a lingering question mark over the three Margiis, however.  She “stands by” what the official 1985 inquiry into the bombing concluded about the three local Margiis - ‘doubt remains as to their guilt’ but ‘strong suspicion’ lingers.

 

Their Svengali, she believes, was Abhiik Kumar, the Ananda Marga spiritual leader in Australasia, a globe-trotting, terror-seeding evil plenipotentiary whose “proximity to so many international acts of violence involving Margii or Proutist foot soldiers” fingers him as the Australian bombing mastermind.  She claims, without elucidation however, that the Australian Government, ASIO and police later had no doubt that Kumar was the perpetrator but that he has not been prosecuted because they could not prove it in court.

 

The recurring accusations against Ananda Marga, resurrected by Landers, are, however, flimsy, based on only circumstantial evidence.  Security service responsibility for the bombing-gone-wrong is at least as viable.  Landers is too ready to dismiss this possibility.  Her book is the result of forensic trawling through hundreds of boxes of records held at NSW State Records.  This primary archival resource is rich but partial, possibly tampered with, and presents the Hilton bombing through police eyes only.  If they had had any vested interest in staging the bombing, the establishment record could be expected to stay sthtum about it.

 

As a true-crime/murder-mystery, Who Bombed the Hilton is a ripping read but it gets us no further to a solution to the crime, possibly Australia’s most scandalous political crime of the last century.

STALIN’S ENGLISHMAN: The Lives of Guy Burgess by ANDREW LOWNIE


STALIN’S ENGLISHMAN: The Lives of Guy Burgess

ANDREW LOWNIE

Hodder & Stoughton, 2015, 427 pages

 
Review by Phil Shannon


Guy Francis de Moncy Burgess was, as his very name suggests, cut from Establishment cloth, and he effortlessly climbed the ladder of Britain’s top institutions – Eton, Cambridge, the BBC, MI5, MI6, the Foreign Office, impressing all the right people mid-twentieth century.  Because of their ‘class blinkers’, however, as Andrew Lownie quotes Burgess in Stalin’s Englishman, none of his elite peers suspected that one of their own could be a communist secretly spying for the Soviet Union for over a decade.

 

Radicalised during the 1930s Depression, when even exclusive Cambridge glowed Red, Burgess joined the British Communist Party.  He was an exemplary socialist activist, intellectually sharp and destined for the upper echelons of the civil service, qualities which made Burgess attractive to Soviet intelligence.

 

Keen to advance the revolutionary cause at a time when Stalin’s Soviet Union was all but equated with socialism by supporters and opponents alike, Burgess readily accepted the prestigious post of Soviet spy.  He had to volubly renounce his true political convictions, and make a pretence of sympathy with Nazism, to gain the full trust of the Establishment.  The Cambridge history professor, G. M. Trevelyan, was just one of those taken in by the deception, declaring, in a job reference for Burgess with the BBC, that Burgess had been cured of the ‘communist measles that so many of our clever young men go through’. 

 

Burgess’ aptitude for making personal connections amongst Britain’s elites culminated in his position in the Foreign Office as private secretary to the deputy Foreign Minister where he was at his most productive, passing over four thousand secret diplomatic documents to Moscow in the early 1940s.  With exposure imminent following the breaking of Soviet intelligence codes, however, Burgess was extracted to Moscow in 1951 where he spent his last twelve years in a life of classical music, books, cheap liquor and homosexual longing.

 

He sorely missed London, New York and his English friends, including more Old Etonian homosexual Marxists than one would think possible.  He remained totally unassimilated to Russia.  Visitors found him looking tired and sad but politically unrepentant, if frustrated – ‘I’m a communist … but I’m a British communist, and I hate Russia’, he exasperatedly told one caller.

 

Why did Burgess spy?  Lownie opts for psychology - espionage gave Burgess a moral purpose and satisfied his “love of mischief”, it enabled him to assert power and to control people, it flattered his desire to belong to an elect social group.  One of his Soviet contacts, however, gave a more succinct, and more fundamental, answer – ‘Guy Burgess believed that world revolution was inevitable’ and, despite ‘having reservations about Russia’s domestic and foreign politics’, he ‘saw Russia as the forward base of that revolution’.

 

Lownie grants little legitimacy to this core ideological motivation – his book has the obligatory reference to Burgess (and the other famous Cambridge spies) as unpatriotic ‘traitors’ but this conventional meaning of treason was conceptually irrelevant to the Marxist Burgess whose betrayal was proudly aimed at the capitalist class and its political system, however deformed his aim was by being refracted through the distorting mirror of Stalin’s bureaucratic police state.

 

Burgess was no respecter of capitalist state secrets (which showed the imperialist reality of US-UK state planning for a post-war capitalist order) but by only leaking to a rival state, however, Burgess has no claim to be a political ancestor of contemporary whistle-blowers.  Burgess’ legacy would have shone more brightly had he stuck with organising early morning picket lines to support bus strikes, joining Hunger Marches, or becoming a Marxist professor.

 

Lownie rarely broaches these higher-order issues.  Instead, we get a worm’s-eye, not a bird’s-eye, view – a mass of pedestrian narrative and unsynthesised character assessments of Burgess from those who knew him.  These reveal a flamboyant, if slovenly and conceited, lover of ideas and conversation, alcohol and men.  Lownie’s book, however, is much less forthcoming on Burgess the dedicated socialist, sadly wasted by the Stalinist betrayer of all things socialist.