Thursday, 22 October 2026

Bounce Back

Rioters in France should call in their defence Lucy Connolly, and the Nigel Farage who had her as a party conference platform speaker.

Looters in France should call in their defence the suspended Labour MPs Bayo Alaba and Perran Moon, who tried to wind up their companies without having repaid their Bounce Back Loans.

Kashim Chowdhury should call in his defence James Orr, who was simultaneously the full time Head of Policy for the Short Money-funded Reform UK, and an Associate Professor in the directly publicly funded Faculty of Divinity of the University of Cambridge.

And Queers for Palestine, where male homsexual activity between consenting adults in private is fully legal in the West Bank even if punishable by 10 years' imprisonment in the Gaza Strip (though not by death, contrary to Internet falsehood), should call in their defence Wes Streeting, who has deployed RAF Typhoon fighter jets in the service of Saudi Arabia, where such acts do indeed incur capital punishment.

Political and Digital Strategy

Lest we who had endured only what Andy Burnham and David Bell called “general racism” formed ideas above our station, successive Ministers have dropped “I know something you don’t know” hints about the proscription of Palestine Action. Whatever that something may be, we can no longer doubt that it was worse than conspiring with the Ulster Volunteer Force to arrange contract killings, since there has been no proscription of Turning Point UK, of the Bow Group, of the United Kingdom Independence Party, or indeed of the Conservative Party, despite what Ben Quinn and Henry Dyer write:

A former Conservative election candidate has been suspended from the party after he was seemingly filmed discussing the cost of hiring contract killers and offering to “broker” the services of a far-right activist with alleged paramilitary links. Jack Ross was filmed apparently asking an undercover reporter “What do you want done?” before listing the type of violent options that could be bought. Ross appeared to tell the Al Jazeera journalist: “They can just kick the fuck out of someone. That’s a certain amount. They can start cutting people’s faces up, that’s another amount. And they can stab someone. They can shoot someone. They can kill someone.”

Police in Scotland say they will be reviewing and assessing the Al Jazeera documentary – Contract Killers and the Far Right – for any criminality. Ross is the chief executive of Turning Point UK, a spin-off from the campaign group founded by the murdered US Republican commentator Charlie Kirk. Footage released by TPUK last year showed Ross and others from the group meeting Kemi Badenoch, the Tory leader, after Kirk’s death. A profile page for Ross on the website of the Bow Group, a Conservative thinktank that lists him as a research fellow, states he has advised MPs and candidates on political and digital strategy. He has been pictured alongside Boris Johnson and other high-profile figures including James Cleverly, Jacob Rees-Mogg and Liam Fox.

Ross was reported by Al Jazeera to have introduced an undercover reporter to a violent criminal from Glasgow with links to the paramilitary Ulster Volunteer Force, who offers to have people killed for money. Al Jazeera approached Ross with a fictitious family problem where a deceased uncle’s business was at risk of being taken over by a gang, whose members were supposedly warned they would “get fucked” if anything happened. Ross replied to this: “Yeah, you have to deliver on that as well. You’ve got to explain to me what’s needed … I can then go and broker from there. But I’ve got to say, even to myself … if there’s lashback I’ve got to keep my name out of it.”  The Scottish paramilitary contact was then filmed at a London hotel offering to arrange different types of killings, ranging from a hit-and-run that could be made to look like drink-driving to a stabbing.

The meeting took place after Ross, apparently acting on behalf of the Zimbabwean government, had reportedly paid thousands of pounds to the Glasgow activist to organise a fake political rally in support of lifting UK sanctions imposed on the African country. Ross said: “I have had a few things and some of the Zims [Zimbabweans] have said to me they want stuff done. They wanted a fucking shooter.” He said he had asked them to talk to the paramilitary, adding: “I said I was not putting fucking prints on anything.” While TPUK was launched as a student movement, it has become increasingly involved in anti-migrant street protests. Its chief operating officer is Nick Tenconi, the leader of the far-right UK Independence party, who visited the Conservative conference in 2022 with Ross.

Ross was filmed in 2022 telling an undercover reporter they should chat to him about what they wanted, adding “keep it simple” and then listing the various violent options that could be bought for cash, including murder. A Conservative party spokesperson said: “Mr Ross’s membership of the Conservative party has been suspended with immediate effect pending an investigation. We cannot comment further while the investigation is ongoing.” At another point, Ross expressed concerns that journalists could be recording the sort of things he was saying and could pass them to police.

“The journalist will put it out there and then the police will pick it up and fuck you,” he said. “You’ve got to think that what we were talking about and had someone film it we’d be fucking done for conspiracy.” Tenconi was filmed alongside Ross as they outlined a plan to use football hooligans to stir up trouble. Tenconi said: “So let Labour get in. So we build the new right and we have these armies … so, three-pronged. We keep winning MPs over. Then we build the second prong, we build an army, and that’s street demos, protest, just fuck things up, basically.” 

A Police Scotland spokesperson said: “We’re aware of the documentary. It will be reviewed and assessed for any criminality.” Al Jazeera reported that Ross had “completely” denied its investigation’s findings, claiming that everything he said to the undercover reporter was not meant seriously. Ross, who was a local elections candidate for the Conservatives, was approached by The Guardian for comment through TPUK. Tenconi was also approached for comment via his party.

Saved By The Bell?

The first black woman ever elected to the House of Commons is now its longest-serving female member. But the Labour Party has suspended her twice for having pointed out that it was operating a hierarchy of racism. Yet the Labour Government has just adopted a 27-point plan to give effect to its acceptance of the specialness and superiority of antisemitism, itself defined in line with the infamous IHRA Definition while violating it by conflating Jews with Israel. We thought that we had got rid of Keir Starmer, who commissioned Sir David Bell to produce this nonsense to order for internal Labour factional reasons, but we should have been so lucky.

Considering how much else has happened in human history, or even just how much else happened during the Second World War, then how much more teaching of the Holocaust could anyone possibly want, since presumably the call is not for the inclusion of, for example, the experience of Gypsy, Roma and Traveller people, whose children remain the worst treated on ethnic grounds by the education system?

If you polled black or Asian pupils about being victims of racism at school, then you would not find two in five who said that they never had been. You would not find one. I do not mean one in five. I do not mean one per cent. You would not find one person. Yet as when three non-fatal stabbings led to a COBRA meeting because two of the three victims were Jewish, this is somehow a national emergency while the far bigger problem is just life, suck it up, get on with it. And 60 per cent of Jewish schoolchildren supposedly experience antisemitism at school, while it is not in dispute that only 30 per cent of them do not go to Jewish schools. Take as long as you need.

Wednesday, 21 October 2026

Lasting Impact

Excellent news about Jackdaw. Now, on to Rosebank, while even the Green Party has dropped its opposition to nuclear power. The time will come when everyone will pretend always to have been in favour of the all-of-the-above energy policy. In the meantime, though, some old wrongs still need to be righted, as Grace Shaw writes:

People with a connection to the 1984 Battle of Orgreave are invited to attend community listening events to help the public inquiry into the dispute "understand its lasting impact". Violence broke out between police officers and miners outside the Orgreave coking plant in Rotherham on 18 June 1984, in one of the pivotal moments of the 1984–85 miners' strike. 

The independent Orgreave Inquiry, announced by the government in July 2025, will examine planning around the policing of the demonstration, events on the day itself and charging decisions following the arrests made. Anyone connected to the incident is invited to attend listening events in Barnsley on 28 October and Durham on 12 November. 

Orgreave Inquiry chair the Rt Revd Dr Pete Wilcox, Bishop of Sheffield, said: "The events at Orgreave affected many people in different ways, and those experiences continue to resonate more than 40 years on. We want to ensure that those voices are heard and understood. Whether you would like to share your own story, listen to others, ask questions about our work or simply find out more about the inquiry, I warmly encourage you to register and join us."

The events at Orgreave took place during the miners' strike which was sparked after the National Coal Board announced in March 1984 that it was shutting 20 UK collieries it said were unprofitable, resulting in the loss of at least 20,000 jobs. More than three quarters of the country's 187,000 miners went on strike in response to the announcement.

The Orgreave Inquiry organisers said the events were about listening and conversation and were not a formal evidence-gathering exercise. Stories heard will support the chair and panel's investigation into the events. The events will take place at the National Union of Mineworkers offices on Huddersfield Road in Barnsley on 28 October, and at Redhills Durham Miners Hall on Flass St on 12 November. Both will run from 10:00-17:00 GMT.

Justice must be served so that we can move on from the situation in which no energy price cap could meaningfully be said to exist, since it kept being put up, while the standing charges on gas and electricity were 50 times the cost of maintaining the networks, and although they were supposed to protect the suppliers from going bankrupt, not only had they repeatedly failed to do so, but they had never come down when those suppliers have been eye-wateringly profitable. As ever, someone is getting paid. And as ever, it is not us.

Hoyle’s War

My late grandmother, herself a former Member of the Legislative Council, absolutely loved Sir Lindsay Hoyle when he visited Saint Helena in February 2024. She was once required to leave the chamber because she had refused to withdraw her description of another member as “a liar”, so she would have known exactly what to do about the Ministers of whom Robert Hutton writes:

“It is shameful!” Lindsay Hoyle was furious. Spitting mad. Splenetic. His rag? It was lost. The minister’s arse? He was getting medieval on it. “It is appalling treatment!” The Speaker of the Commons likes to have his statements prepared in advance, and he was clutching pages of notes laying bare his immense displeasure, like an incensed driver who has finally got to the front of the queue to complain about an unjust parking fine. At any moment, it seemed he might reach down and start pulling supporting evidence from a Sainsbury’s Bag for Life.

The specific cause of his anger was the government’s screeching u-turn on using gas from the Jackdaw field in the North Sea. Not the decision itself –— others were dealing with that — but the fact that it had been reported everywhere before being announced in Parliament. Hoyle has for years been fighting to get ministers to stop doing this, without any noticeable effect. Now he was both mad as hell and not going to take it anymore. Making him madder was the fact that the Energy Secretary, Miatta Fahnbulleh, had bravely decided to send an underling, Michael Shanks, to make the announcement and take the heat. She was in Aberdeen, speaking to broadcasters, although it’s entirely possible she could still hear Hoyle at that distance.

“I’m sorry that Sky News is more important, rather than the members,” the Speaker said, gesturing around him. Was his point undermined by the sight of MPs fleeing in search of lunch? Not a bit of it. “This issue has been of great interest to the House!” That is certainly true. It’s a bruise that the Conservatives have been punching for months, aware that Fahnbulleh’s predecessor, Ed Miliband, didn’t want to grant the license and that Keir Starmer didn’t know what he wanted. Wednesday’s announcement can be seen as a basic marker of competence by Andy Burnham’s administration. Whatever the merits of the argument, dragging it out was only hurting.

The prime minister had earlier tried to make the best of the u-turn. Kemi Badenoch had arrived triumphant, ever more certain that everything that happens is evidence of her brilliance. “The Conservatives first approved Jackdaw in 2022!” she announced. That gave Burnham an opening: “We have made a decision that her government messed up. There was a delay because they didn’t do the process properly.”

The Tory leader sneered at this as Starmerism redux, and who can doubt that a Badenoch administration would indeed charge around announcing things before seeing them overturned in the courts? Badenoch’s big advantage was that Burnham had, when all was said and done, accepted her arguments. “The gas would still be needed,” he told the Greens’ Ellie Chowns, while the Tory frontbench waved their arms to point out that this was what they’d been saying for months. “It would just be imported from somewhere else.” 

Both leaders are still feeling each other out, trying to work out how to characterise the other. The Tory leader had a reply when Burham trumpeted his social care policy as an example of a big decision: “Talking about it is not making a decision.” Meanwhile, after getting into trouble for speaking off the cuff in the past, the prime minister was more careful this week, keeping his folder of notes open to remind him of prepared lines and facts and figures. He’s developed a tactic of looking for areas where he can agree with Badenoch, emphasising his essential congeniality. Only in his final question did he refer to Liz Truss’s forthcoming book about how she was done over by a conspiracy involving the Bank of England, the Freemasons and aliens from the planet Mars. 

Speaking of people who don’t know when to stay quiet, at much the same time, Reform’s Zia Yusuf released a video rant showing how intensely unconcerned the party is by recent reporting of the views of its members. It’s best summarised as “You can’t expose us, we’re exposing YOU!” After threats to set the police on ITV, and complaints about the hurt feelings of Reform’s loyal army of snowflakes, it finished with a promise to blow the party’s donor bounty on court cases against any journalist who makes Yusuf cry. It’s highly entertaining, and I recommend it to anyone who needs cheering up. Perhaps the Speaker should take a look. He was still fuming when we left him, seconds away from turning green and smashing up the chamber. “It is simply not good enough!” he stormed. “I thought this was a new beginning!” It may be, but nothing will stop governments from trailing announcements to the press. We’ll be seeing Angry Hoyle again.

The Experiment, Indeed


Channel 4 is exploring whether members of the British public would object to a modern residential facility for those with disabilities that’s actually run under Nazi-inspired conditions in a new documentary tonight. The Experiment, hosted by actor Mat Fraser and disability rights activist Sophie Morgan, looks at whether people could be “persuaded by ideas drawn from Nazi ideology if they were presented as progressive solutions to a modern social “problem” in the stand-alone programme.

In the documentary, members of the public are invited to tour fake residential home SegriLife House, believing it to be a real facility which offers “a radical model of supported living”. Those visiting SegriLife House see its messaging and policies in action, with disabled and neurodivergent actors playing its residents as part of the experiment. However, the touring public have no idea that its protocols are actually based on how the Nazi regime treated disabled people in 1930s and 1940s Germany. 

“Drawing on Nazi propaganda and the real ideas and language used to justify the systematic segregation, forced sterilisation and extermination of disabled people in Nazi-era Germany, The Experiment explores how such dangerous ideas can be repackaged and made to appear acceptable,” Channel 4 said ahead of the documentary airing tonight. Meanwhile, reactions by members of the public taking part in the show will be filmed and shown as part of the documentary as hosts Fraser and Morgan watch from behind the scenes. 

“It was important for us to finally bring the catastrophic history of Aktion T4 and the Nazis’ persecution of disabled people to our television screens, but more importantly we wanted to test whether the British public could be persuaded by similar propaganda today – to believe that disabled people are disposable, or less deserving of a place in society,” the presenters said in a joint statement. Aktion T4 was a Nazi-era programme for the systematic mass-murder of people with disabilities. “Through the fantastic dedication of our disabled actors and the production team who brought the disturbing world of SegriLife to life, we were able to put that question to the test.” They added that with disability rights currently “under threat in the UK and around the world”, they hope the documentary will show that “the chances of repeating the past are far higher than we think”.

The Experiment received guidance from Access All Areas and the Graeae Theatre Company – both theatre companies which are made up of disabled and neurodivergent artists – during filming. The documentary also sees Fraser and Morgan visit former Nazi killing centre, Austria’s Hartheim Castle and Museum, to tell the stories of the hundreds of thousands of disabled people who were murdered by the regime. Actor and writer Fraser, who was born with phocomelia after his mother took the drug thalidomide during pregnancy before it was discovered to cause birth defects, started his career with the Graeae Theatre Company and has since appeared in American Horror Story: Freak Show, His Dark Materials and Netflix’s Kaos.

Presenter Morgan made her TV debut in BBC Two’s 2004 reality show Beyond Boundaries, just nine months after a road traffic accident left her paralysed from the waist down at the age of 18. She later competed on BBC Three’s Britain’s Missing Top Model and has since presented a number of documentaries including Licence to Kill, Living Wild: How to Change Your Life and Dispatches. The Experiment airs tonight at 10pm on Channel 4.

What Does Federation Mean?

It was the Lexit areas that in fact decided the referendum, with Sunderland moving the money markets, a beautiful thing to see. Apart from that, though, Jonny Ball writes:

Decades before Brexit, in one of the landmark speeches on Britain in Europe, an orator hailing from their party’s Right flank asked their audience: “What does federation mean?” The answer was nothing good. Powers, the speaker warned, would be “taken from national governments and given to federal parliaments”. And then? Nothing less than “the end of Britain as an independent nation state” — “the end of 1,000 years of history.” This was no Powellite rant, nor some excerpt from Thatcher’s famous Bruges speech. Rather, that evocative “1,000 years of history” line was conjured by Hugh Gaitskell, the modernising leader of the Labour Party from 1955 until his untimely death eight years later.

How times have changed. For Labour now has a Prime Minister apparently intent on reopening the Brexit debate, even as he frames his political project around reasserting state power over the market, something seriously undermined by EU membership. Never mind Andy Burnham’s attacks on the Brexit “status quo”, let alone Treasury plans to reignite “Project Fear” — for decades, the British Left understood this contradiction perfectly. Postwar socialism, proclaimed by Attlee in the hallowed year of 1945, relied too heavily on statist mechanisms, from tariffs to industrial subsidies, basically incompatible with the freedoms of the European bloc. Facilitating free trade through a giant continental single market was a concern for the capitalists, for the bosses — not for the labour interest.

As Gaitskell’s thundering speech makes clear, meanwhile, this approach to Europe was once near-consensus even on the Labour Right, uniting him with socialist firebrands like Nye Bevan. As Gaitskell’s rival once put it, supranationalism was a symptom of “political malaise” that “elevated the marketplace”, resulting from a failure of socialists “to use the sovereign power of their parliaments to plan their economic life”.

Here, perhaps, are faint echoes of Burnham’s nostalgic lament for a social democracy sacrificed at the altar of market efficiency. Where Bevan identified Europe with mammon, and where the Right’s Friedrich Hayek rhapsodised over “Interstate Federalism”, today Burnham identifies Brexit as one of his “four horsemen of Britain’s apocalypse”. The irony, of course, is that his other three riders are deindustrialisation, austerity and privatisation: each engendered as heartily by European technocratic elites as by Britain’s homegrown ideologues.

All the same, there is a political calculation at the heart of Burnham’s pre-EU shift. His immediate electoral challenge lies in reuniting Britain’s Left-wing voters behind the Labour banner, yet the fiscal picture is bleak. Manchesterism’s promise of large-scale renationalisation, green investment, municipal housebuilding — all could potentially attract Labour-Green defectors back into the fold. But they would also raise the ire of gilt traders all too aware of Britain’s inability to either constrain current spending or manage major capital projects effectively. Europe, then, offers a cheap salve, a way of rallying the twin forces of urban Remainia and provincial Bregret, while reinjecting dynamism into “UK PLC” without imposing huge costs on John Healey’s Treasury. 

The problem is that this sets Burnham on a path towards breaking his so-called “Makerfield test”: that policies should be judged against their putative benefits for blue-collar and postindustrial Britain, as exemplified by his Wigan constituency. Unfortunately for Burnham, though, Makerfield voted 65% Leave. And while that enthusiasm is sure to have declined of late, the idea that there would now be a natural majority for Rejoin remains fanciful.

The break in the collective Labourite omertà on Europe, then, could be seen as part of a grim, reluctant acceptance of a future divorced from “Makerfield Man”: with Labour a progressive party, not a labour party, one made up of public-sector workers in alliance with urban social renters and young, downwardly mobile graduates. Rejoinerism might represent the final breach of a historical obligation, emotionally preserved by party bigwigs even today, that Labour should reflect its roots as an electoral vehicle built by and for the organised working class.

That nostalgia likely explains why the next Labour manifesto ultimately won’t promise British re-entry or even another referendum. Burnham, too, is as romantic as Gaitskell. No amount of polling data on Labour’s new base of white-collar professionals will rid him of his belief that the party should orient itself, at least rhetorically, towards some notion of “the traditional working class”, however broadly conceived. Of course, Labour will be happy to nurture a pro-European vibe, not least around some amorphous “reset in relations”. But don’t expect genuine pan-Europeanism, in the style of the Liberal Democrats or, indeed, Tony Blair, anytime soon.

As with much of Burnhamism, the point is in the signalling, not the substance. We might therefore see some limited reassociation, or a new, closer customs arrangement. And, to be fair, these options could offer a way to cut Brexit red tape without reopening the broader constitutional question. Still, even an unenthusiastic rapprochement could quickly cause trouble. Dominic Cummings has noted the paradox of Europhile progressives who champion regulations at home, yet who bemoan the imposition of bureaucratic hurdles on multinationals around cross-border trade. Meanwhile, some Brexit stalwarts will see any realignment as an undemocratic capitulation. And if the Treasury does indeed lay out the modelling numbers for various options, from re-joining the customs union to the full hog, it would still be a brave party leader to turn freedom of movement into an electoral issue come 2029.

If that again hints at a party in limbo — trapped between its old Makerfield base and its new professional-managerial one — there are more practical reasons to be suspicious of Brussels. After all, neither the single market nor the customs union have been panaceas for Europe’s long-term trend of relative decline. Indeed, Britain has outgrown both France and Germany since leaving the EU’s free-trade and regulatory regimes. If AI really is the sector of the future, then Europe’s data regulations exclude the continent from its windfalls. Besides, the bloc Britain would now rejoin is not that of Mitterrand or Kohl: it would be the Europe of Marine Le Pen and Alice Weidel. The dissonance between the Europe of the Remainiac imagination and the actually-existing EU grows wider by the day — not least given the recent disorder in France. Besides, Britain would enter this unhappy arrangement without exemptions from the Euro and Schengen, nor the significant budget rebate, all available before we left.

Through all this, Burnham could do worse than recalling the lesson of his predecessors: embracing their Labourism not just in romantic rhetoric but in practice. The Prime Minister’s programme, as sketched so far, is an attempt to “roll back the Eighties”: public ownership of utilities and rail, and a reindustrialisation drive that favours British firms in public procurement. Each of these risks being stymied by the legal architecture of EU membership. European treaties make nationalisation and compensation processes far more complex. Procurement rules require open tendering and preclude preferences for domestic bidders. The free movement of capital forecloses the controls that Attlee relied on to steer investment. Rejoining would not deliver the “social Europe” promised by Jacques Delors in 1988, instead binding Labour to a settlement that Burnham’s own programme is designed to escape. That’s why Gaitskell and Bevan opposed Common Market entry over half a century ago, and why Burnham can’t now both pass the Makerfield test and commit to rejoining.

Here, of course, Burnham would be swimming against the tide. Left Euroscepticism, once hegemonic, is now relatively niche. In the 2016 referendum, “Lexit” was backed by only a smattering of half a dozen or so Labour MPs, the Communists, the Socialist Workers, and the Rail Maritime and Transport Workers Union. One notable holdout was Jeremy Corbyn, who former allies tell me likely voted Leave. The eccentricities of this merry band don’t detract from the incompatibility of the EU with building a more cohesive national economy.

While frictionless trade and globalisation will find few defenders on the Left today — not in an age of “securonomics” and so-called “post-neoliberal” growth models — freedom of movement was itself an integral pillar of economic liberalisation. The creation of a single employment market, one stretching from Belfast to Bucharest, imposed a sham level playing field upon populations with vastly divergent employment practices and payment standards. The UK, with its relatively unregulated labour market, then became what Helen Thompson has called “the employer of last resort”. And, concurrently, the old Left transformed into an altogether different political tribe, more defined by what Wolfgang Streeck calls “cosmoliberalism”, far more concerned with preserving European constitutional arrangements than with adherence to traditional social democracy. Borderless capitalism, once trumpeted by Hayek and his ilk, should be as unloved on the British Left as it is still among British voters.

And, here, perhaps, is one more lesson of history. Whatever Burnham’s own muddled blend of romance and reality, politics and pragmatism, the basic truth remains: the grand European vision of Jean Monnet and Robert Schuman never fully took hold in our small island nation. Even for British pro-Europeans, people like Gaitskell’s old protege Roy Jenkins, being “in Europe” long meant little more than inclusion in modernity, in the world of services and capital, and the competition it unleashed on old-fashioned British industry. It was a pragmatic arrangement, rarely viewed in romantic or grand historic terms. It was only after Brexit that the metropolitan middle classes began to get teary eyed about the 12 gold stars and Beethoven’s Ninth. And even then, the most regular complaint heard was over passport checks at the airport — not Anglophone exclusion from some lofty transnational demos. For peoples who had, on several occasions, engaged in mass slaughter over the constitutional status of Alsace-Lorraine, the EU may have felt like the realisation of Enlightenment brotherhood after centuries of war. For Britain, though, its customs were alien, its languages incomprehensible, its people Other. Gaitskell understood that dilemma six decades ago, and changing Labour’s electoral coalition has not made it disappear.

Aberfan Is Different

Paul Knaggs writes:

The last ordinary sound in Pantglas Junior School was children’s chatter about half-term. The holiday started at midday. Library books had been put away, the first lesson had begun, and when a rumbling came down off the hillside, low at first and then louder, a teacher told his class not to worry. It was only thunder. It was not thunder. It was Tip No. 7. Earlier that morning mothers had stood in their doorways and watched their children go up the wet streets into a fog thick enough to hide the mountain. They waved. It costs nothing to wave. You do it a thousand times without once thinking about it, and that is the particular cruelty of Aberfan: nobody got to say a proper goodbye, because nobody knew that a goodbye was required.

At around a quarter past nine, roughly 300,000 cubic yards of liquefied spoil, slack, broke away and went down the valley at speeds of up to 50mph. It took the school in seconds. Of the 116 children who died, 109 died inside Pantglas. Five of their teachers died with them. A village of a few thousand people lost almost an entire school generation in the time it takes to read this paragraph. Call it a disaster if you like. A disaster is a thing that befalls you. This was delivered. Tip No. 7 was not a geological feature. It was eight years of industrial waste, started in 1958 and piled 111 feet high on a hillside above a primary school, sitting on porous sandstone riven with springs and streams that appear on Ordnance Survey maps drawn before the First World War. The Coal Board’s own tipping practice forbade it. The people below it could see what it was. 

In August 1963 a local waterworks engineer, D.C.W. Jones, wrote to the NCB warning that the tips loomed over Pantglas and that movement would be grave. Councillor Gwyneth Williams told Merthyr’s planning committee that if the tip shifted, in her words, “it could threaten the whole school”. Mothers petitioned the headmistress, Ann Jennings, who took their fears to the council. Merthyr Borough Council corresponded with the Coal Board for the best part of a year under a file heading that now reads like an indictment: the danger from coal slurry tipped at the rear of the Pantglas schools. The tip went on growing. On the morning itself, the tipping gang climbed up at half past seven and found that it had sunk overnight. They sent a man down the mountain on foot to report it, because nobody had replaced the stolen telephone cable. 

The Davies Tribunal would later spend 76 days establishing what the village had known for years, while the Coal Board denied that the 1963 slip had even happened, and would hand down the phrase that has followed the NCB ever since: “bungling ineptitude”. Not one person was prosecuted. Not one was sacked, demoted or fined. The chairman, Lord Robens, offered a resignation he had no intention of losing, and kept his job. The mountain did not fall on Aberfan. It was carried there, bucket by bucket, over eight years, by an organisation that had been told in plain English what it would do.

The Morning Aberfan Lost Its Children 

The day began like countless others in this coal-dusted corner of Wales. Children traced their familiar paths through narrow lanes between terraced houses, past coal fires glowing in hearths, beneath the looming presence of Tip No. 7 – a man-made mountain of mining waste that had grown for decades on the hillside above their village. The waste heap was more than coal dust and rock; it was a monument to industrial indifference, a disaster waiting to happen that everyone could see but no one would stop. On arriving at school, children congregated for morning assembly; they were excited. At midday, the half-term holiday would begin. Their daily rendition of ‘All Things Bright and Beautiful’ – a hymn written a few miles away in the bucolic tranquillity of the Usk Valley – was postponed that day. They would sing it before they went home when the headteacher planned to wish her pupils a safe and enjoyable holiday. The children filed into classrooms. And so the world turned in Aberfan much as it had done for the past 100 years, when the community burgeoned around the Merthyr Vale colliery which began in 1869. But then time stopped. At around quarter past nine on the morning of Friday 21 October 1966, disaster struck and all changed.

9:13 a.m., the mountain moved.

In less time than it takes to read this sentence, 300,000 cubic yards of liquefied coal waste broke free. The black tsunami gathered speed as it raced downhill, consuming everything in its path. It struck Pantglas Junior School with such force that the building’s walls exploded inward. Inside, children who moments before had been opening books and sharpening pencils found themselves buried alive beneath a horrific mixture of coal, shale, and mud. What followed was a desperate race against time. Hundreds of miners – men who had spent their lives digging coal from beneath the Welsh earth – now clawed frantically at the slurry with bare hands, trying to reach the buried children. Some dug until their fingers bled. Others dug even as they knew they were searching for their own children.

By day’s end, 144 people lay dead – 116 children and 28 adults. An entire generation of Aberfan’s children was gone, and with them, the village’s future. But this was no natural disaster. This was a human-made catastrophe, born of negligence and killed by indifference. The coal board had been warned. The residents had complained. Engineers had raised concerns. Yet the tips had continued to grow, fed by an industry that valued profit over lives. The true tragedy of Aberfan lies not just in the lives lost that rainy October morning, but in the knowledge that every death was preventable. Every child who walked to school that day might have lived, had those in power simply listened, simply cared, simply acted. If only.

At 07:30 that Friday, the tip was reported to have sunk 20ft. 

“If only fate had played its hand 20 minutes earlier, the school would have been empty.” One tipping gang worker told a subsequent inquiry how the slide began. “It was starting to come back up,” he said. “It started to rise slowly at first, sir… I thought I was seeing things. Then it rose up pretty fast, sir, at a tremendous speed. Then it sort of came up out of the depression and turned itself into a wave… down towards the mountain… towards Aberfan village… into the mist.” 

Seconds later the bottom of the tip shot out. Down in Pantglas Junior School, the lights began to flicker and sway; an ominous roar like “a jet plane screaming low over the school in the fog”. The glistening black avalanche consumed rocks, trees, farm cottages then ruptured the Brecon Beacons to Cardiff water main, engorging it further and increasing the velocity of its murderous descent towards Pantglas. Seconds after it hit, Cyril Vaughan, a teacher at the neighbouring senior school, said: “Everything was so quiet”. “As if nature had realised that a tremendous mistake had been made and nature was speechless.” The top of the tip on the day of the slip. The alarm could not be raised by telephone as the cable had been stolen but it would have made no difference as the slide reached speeds of up to 50mph.

The tips above the village 

Every mining community had its tips. The entire South Wales Valleys landscape was jagged with them. Big lump coal was required for domestic heating so the waste and tailings – fine particles left after the washing process – was loaded onto rail trams and dumped at the top of the valley, land of no economic value. The tips were notorious for sliding but there was particular concern about Aberfan’s ‘tip number seven’ which had begun in 1958 and had risen to a 111ft (34m) heap of some 300,000 cubic yards (229,300 cubic metres) of waste. It lay on highly porous sandstone riven with streams and underwater springs. It had slipped three years previously when an ominous crater appeared at the top. A bulge had formed at the foot of the tip as mountain spring water, unable to drain away, liquefied the spoil into thick, black quicksand. 

The NCB brushed complaints aside. The threat was implicit – make a fuss and the mine would close. While many spoke out about the dangers, others who had misgivings held their tongue, recalling grim memories of long years of unemployment in the valleys. There are thought to be about 20 or so of the surviving children left in Aberfan. Some have moved away, some have sadly suffered early deaths; each of them has struggled to deal with the devastation wrought on their lives. “Many of the people involved in the disaster find relationships very difficult,” says Jeff, who never married. “Marriages have broken down because of the difficulties of living with someone who has gone through a major incident – the irrationality of your thoughts on occasions, your irritability and difficulty in confiding in people.” There is no doubt in Jeff’s mind that a positive contribution to arise from the tragedy has been helping to improve psychological trauma understanding and help for other victims and their families. Just as Dr Jones, who died in 2013, concluded: “Nowhere has grief been so concentrated. Lockerbie, Zeebrugge, King’s Cross – everywhere they used the lesson this place taught them.”

The search 

After the landslide stopped, local residents rushed to the school and began digging through the rubble, moving material by hand or with garden tools. A whistle would blow and the men would stop working; there would be an agonising silence as they strained to hear the faintest sound from underneath. At 9:25 am Merthyr Tydfil police received a phone call from a local resident who said, “I have been asked to inform that there has been a landslide at Pantglas. The tip has come down on the school”; the fire brigade, based in Merthyr Tydfil, received a call at about the same time.

Yvonne Price, then 21, was one of the first police officers on the scene. She recalls being rigid with shock. As her patrol car turned into the village, the driver screamed: “I can’t get through… The water’s rising… the water’s rising. A huge bank of water was coming directly towards us,” she says. “It was like a tsunami; it was terrifying.” Calls were then made to local hospitals, the ambulance service and the local Civil Defence Corps. The first miners from the Aberfan colliery arrived within 20 minutes of the disaster, having been raised from the coal seams where they had been working. They directed the early digging, knowing that unplanned excavation could lead to collapse of the spoil and the remnants of the buildings; they worked in organised groups under the control of their pit managers.

News reports described the site as resembling an earthquake or the aftermath of a high-explosive bomb. The first casualties from the wreckage of the school arrived at St Tydfil’s Hospital in Merthyr Tydfil at 9:50 am; the remaining rescued casualties all arrived before 11:00 am: 22 children, one of whom was dead on arrival, and 5 adults. A further 9 casualties were sent to the East Glamorgan General Hospital. Jeff Edwards was eight years old at the time of the disaster. He was pulled out of the rubble after rescuers noticed his distinctive white hair. He went on to be an accountant and leader of Merthyr Tydfil council.

We were looking forward to half-term, because the holidays started that afternoon. I walked from our house on Aberfan Road about three doors down where I picked up Robert Jones, the local GP’s son and my best friend. We used to walk through the gullies and stop at a little shop for some sweets, things like ‘shrimps and flying saucers’. It was a Friday so it was library book day. I’d finished the Janet and John reading scheme. Once you finished that series of books, you could go on to library books, kept on a shelf at the opposite side of the class from where I was sitting. So from those books, I picked Herge’s Adventures of Tintin and I walked back to my desk. We put our books away then, and the teacher started the first lesson, which I think was maths. As he was teaching, there was this sort of rumbling sound, and that progressively got louder and louder. And to reassure the class, he said, ‘Don’t worry, it’s only thunder’. The lights that were suspended on long wires started to shake back and forth.

The next thing I remember was waking up with all this material around me. Obviously, I didn’t know what had happened, other than the fact I was trapped. I could hear screams and shouts but I couldn’t move because the desk was up against my stomach, all the material from the roof had collapsed on top of me and there was a dead girl to the left of me. My right leg was stuck in a radiator and there was hot water coming out onto my leg. Somebody said ‘Look, there’s somebody down here’. My hair was very white, I was very blonde. The fireman who rescued me used his hatchet and broke the desk up and he pulled the stuff away. I was then lifted out of where I was trapped, and I was thrown in a human chain from one fireman to another, and to other people who had come to rescue.

I was covered in a blanket and then carried out into Moy Road. By the time I got out, which was just after 11 o’clock, all the ambulances had gone. So I was taken to St Tydfil’s Hospital by Tom Harding, who was a fruiterer in the village. I remember his van, which was a light blue Bedford van, parked in the lane just down from the school. He had difficulty in starting the van because I think the water that was coming down had got up his exhaust. They had to push the van to start it off. I was shipped up then to St Tydfil’s Hospital and I had head injuries and stomach injuries. Those physical injuries would heal over time, but I think it’s the psychological injuries that would be with us right up until today. We won’t get rid of them; we’ll have to live with them. I think that’s the difficulty dealing with post-traumatic stress disorder. It’s a long-term thing. 

I couldn’t then return to the village because I was so frightened of the tip coming down again, so I stayed with my gran up in Pentrebach until I felt confident enough to come back. We were reliving what happened to us in days, the weeks and the months after. I often had nightmares. That was something that our parents had to deal with because they’d never experienced that before. I was afraid of noise, I was afraid of crowds, I was afraid of going to school, and for many years I couldn’t go to school because I was afraid that something would happen to me.

The 10th and last child to be brought out alive, he was treated for head and stomach injuries. One of Aberfan’s three local GPs, the late Dr Arthur Jones, spoke of a “strange bitterness between families who lost children and those who hadn’t; people just could not help it”. “You have feelings of guilt that you survived, ‘why me?’,” Jeff says, keen to point out that some parents who lost children were extremely supportive of him. “It is a very difficult emotion to come to terms with. We had no childhood; it was taken from us. Play is an important part of a child’s development, but that stopped. Most of the kids we played with were gone, and play was frowned upon by some parents who lost children.”

Survivor guilt was not the only burden. The symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) began to show but in 1966 there was little understanding or recognition of the syndrome. Determined the world would learn from the mistakes of Aberfan, he has contributed to NICE (National Institute for Health and Care Excellence) guidelines on PTSD, taken part in clinical studies and spoken at conferences and personally helped victims of Enniskillen, Dunblane, Paddington and the 2011 tsunami in Japan. “After the disaster, we had interventions from psychiatrists,” Jeff says. “But services were in their infancy. They didn’t really know how to deal with it, and it wasn’t much help. There were sessions, and we were offered different drugs.”

Jeff says the surviving children did not really have a formal education for many years. “We didn’t want to go to school as we were afraid it would happen again,” he says. “The children who survived had to come to terms with the loss of their friends and the scenes of carnage they witnessed.” Time and again, testimonies from the past describe the same thing – no one talked about what happened. This was an age of stoicism, embodied by the tough, macho miners themselves. Psychological help was stigmatised and viewed with suspicion. “I couldn’t speak about what happened to my parents because of the horrific things I saw; you felt you didn’t want to put them through that,” says Jeff, who has never spoken about it to his mother to this day.

No survivors were found after 11:00 am. Of the 144 people who died in the disaster, 116 were children, mostly between the ages of 7 and 10; 109 of the children died inside Pantglas Junior School. Five of the adults who died were teachers at the school. An additional 6 adults and 29 children were injured. The 10:30 am BBC news summary led with the story of the accident. The result was that thousands of volunteers travelled to Aberfan to help, although their efforts often hampered the work of the experienced miners or trained rescue teams. With the two broken water mains still pumping water into the spoil in Aberfan, the slip continued to move through the village, and it was not until 11:30 am that the water authorities managed to turn off the supply. It was estimated that the mains added between 2 and 3 million imperial gallons (9–14 million litres) of water to the spoil slurry. With movement in the upper slopes still a danger, at 12:00 noon NCB engineers began digging a drainage channel, with the aim of stabilising the tip. It took two hours to reroute the water to a safer place, from where it was diverted into an existing water course.

An NCB board meeting that morning, headed by the organisation’s chairman, Lord Robens, was informed of the disaster. It was decided that the company’s Director-General of Production and its Chief Safety Engineer should inspect the situation, and they left for the village immediately. In his autobiography, Robens stated that the decision for him not to go was because “the appearance of a layman at too early a stage inevitably distracts senior and essential people from the tasks upon which they should be exclusively concentrating”. Instead of visiting the scene, that evening Robens went to the ceremony to invest him as the chancellor of the University of Surrey. NCB officers covered for him when contacted by Cledwyn Hughes, the Secretary of State for Wales, falsely claiming that Robens was personally directing relief work. 

Hughes visited the scene at 4:00 pm for an hour. He telephoned Harold Wilson, the Prime Minister, and confirmed Wilson’s own thought that he should also visit. Wilson told Hughes to “take whatever action he thought necessary, irrespective of any considerations of ‘normal procedures’, expenditure or statutory limitations”. Wilson arrived at Aberfan at 9.40 pm, where he heard reports from the police and civil defence forces, and visited the rescue workers. Before he left, at midnight, he and Hughes agreed that a high-level independent inquiry needed to be held. A makeshift mortuary was set up in the village’s Bethania Chapel on 21 October and operated until 4 November, 250 yards (229 m) from the disaster site; members of the Glamorgan Constabulary force assisted with the identification and registration of the victims. Two doctors examined the bodies and issued death certificates; the cause of death was typically asphyxia, fractured skull or multiple crush injuries. Cramped conditions in the chapel meant that parents could only be admitted one at a time to identify the bodies of their children.

The building also acted as a missing persons bureau, and its vestry was used by Red Cross volunteers and St John Ambulance stretcher-bearers. Four hundred embalmers volunteered to assist with the cleaning and dressing of the corpses; a contingent that flew over from Northern Ireland removed the seats of their plane to transport child-sized coffins. The smaller Aberfan Calvinistic Chapel nearby was used as a second mortuary from 22 to 29 October. By the morning of Saturday 22 October, 111 bodies had been recovered, of which 51 had been identified. At daybreak the Queen’s brother-in-law Lord Snowdon visited and spoke with workers and parents; at 11:00 am Prince Philip, Duke of Edinburgh, visited the scene and talked to rescue workers. In the early afternoon, light rain began falling, which became increasingly heavy; it caused further movement in the tip, which threatened the rescue work and raised the possibility that the area would have to be evacuated. That evening the mayor of Merthyr Tydfil launched an appeal for financial donations—soon formally named the Aberfan Disaster Fund—to alleviate financial hardship and to help rebuild the area. 

The first disaster of its kind to be broadcast live into people’s homes, the plight of Aberfan horrified a watching world. Donations to the Aberfan Disaster Fund poured in from all over the globe – 90,000 donations, among them an Irish widow’s husband’s gold presentation watch and a mother’s savings for a new winter coat. It reached a total of £1,750,000, an estimated £20m-plus today – only the Diana, Princess of Wales Memorial Fund has ever outstripped it. But it was to be branded by the press ‘Aberfan’s second disaster’. Victims fought a bitter legal battle with its management – the Charity Commission and a group of trustees, local dignitaries – to get access to the money; they were initially refused help to pay for their children’s gravestones.

But the same fund was plundered by the government and handed to the very body which had been found to blame for the tragedy. Villagers had started a campaign pleading that to continue living in the shadow of the spoil tips was psychological torture. They wanted them gone. They were dismissed as irrational and told the tips were perfectly safe, that they would not be removed but landscaped instead. But then they had been told they were safe before the disaster. Driven to distraction by anger and grief, a group of villagers emptied sacks of coal slurry in the reception area of the Welsh Office in protest. They were immediately arrested. A visibly shaken Secretary of State for Wales, George Thomas – who had met with the miners just minutes before to tell them once again the tips would not be removed – capitulated. The tips would be gone. But the NCB refused to take financial responsibility, so the government and the Charity Commission sanctioned £150,000 to be drawn from the disaster fund to cover the costs. 

Then there was the issue of compensation. To reach an appropriate sum, the Charity Commission proposed asking grief-stricken parents ‘exactly how close were you to your child?’ Those found not to have been close to their children would not be compensated. Mercifully, the proposal was never acted upon. The NCB initially offered £50 before raising it to the “generous offer” of £500. A more substantial sum, it was advised, would have destroyed the working-class recipients not used to large amounts of money. The NCB also refused to pay for the Bethania Chapel to be razed and rebuilt, the congregation unable to worship there given its heartbreaking recent history. Once again, the disaster fund paid for a new chapel to be built in 1970. Bethania closed in 2007 due to disrepair and a dwindling congregation and was put up for sale. The neighbouring Capel Aberfan, where bodies were taken before burial, was burned down by a pyromaniac in 2015. Its scorched façade remains in Aberfan. 

On 23 October assistance was provided by the Territorial Army. This was followed by the arrival of naval ratings from HMS Tiger and members of the King’s Own Royal Border Regiment. That day Wilson announced the appointment of Lord Justice Edmund Davies as the chairman of the inquiry into the disaster; Davies had been born and schooled in the nearby village of Mountain Ash. A coroner’s inquest was opened on 24 October to give the causes of death for 30 of the children located. One man who had lost his wife and two sons called out when he heard their names mentioned: “No, sir—buried alive by the National Coal Board”; one woman shouted that the NCB had “killed our children”. A note pinned to the chapel door informing parents that death certificates will be issued at the local fish and chip shop. The first funerals, for five of the children, took place the following day. A mass funeral for 81 children and one woman took place at Bryntaf Cemetery in Aberfan on 27 October. They were buried in a pair of 80-foot-long (24 m) trenches; 10,000 people attended. Because of the vast quantity and consistency of the spoil, it was a week before all the bodies were recovered; the last victim was found on 28 October. 

The Queen and the Duke of Edinburgh visited Aberfan on 29 October to pay their respects to those who had died. Their visit coincided with the end of the main rescue phase; only one contracting firm remained in the village to continue the last stages of the clean-up. Marjorie Collins, an Aberfan woman who lost her son in the disaster, remembered the Queen’s visit in a 2015 interview with ITV: “They were above the politics and the din, and they proved to us that the world was with us, and that the world cared.” Another mother told ITV that no one judged the Queen for her delayed response. “We were still in shock, I remember the Queen walking through the mud,” she said. “It felt like she was with us from the beginning.”

It is not difficult to understand how grief morphed into a deep, visceral anger. At the inquest into the deaths, there was uproar with people shouting ‘our children have been murdered’ and ‘mark the death certificate buried alive by the coal board’. During the subsequent 76-day-long tribunal of inquiry – at the time the longest-running inquiry of its kind in British history – the NCB held that it was an act of God – geological factors and heavy rain. True, it had been raining heavily, but not unseasonably so for the area and the time of year. With the evidence stacked against them, towards the end of the inquiry, Lord Robens dramatically admitted the NCB – pilloried for its total absence of tipping policy – was to blame. To have done so earlier on would have spared the victims immeasurable anguish. 

The tribunal concluded the disaster was not the result of “villainy” but was “a terrifying tale of bungling ineptitude by many men charged with tasks for which they were totally unfitted, of failure to heed clear warnings, and of a total lack of direction from above”. No one lost their jobs, was demoted or fined. In fact, two years later Lord Robens was chosen to chair a review of health and safety which resulted in the Health and Safety at Work Act 1974 which continues to regulate practice to this day. But there is no doubt that many led the rest of their lives with the spectre of Aberfan on their conscience, the distressing consequences of their mistakes published in full view of a horrified world.

David and Ian’s photo-essay on Aberfan was published by every major magazine around the globe and was mentioned in Parliament. “Aberfan was an extraordinary moment for me,” he says. “It just affected my whole life because it was obscene. It brought back to me the idea about Wales. I’d done very little work in Wales; I’d been in London. Suddenly it had put into my mind the idea about going back home.” Within two years he had left his studio in London’s King’s Road and decamped to south Wales where he lived temporarily in a camper van. He went on to set up the prestigious School of Documentary Photography in Newport. In 2000, he published Wales: Land of My Father, a photographic documentary of the dramatic changes the decades after 1966 would bring for Wales. He continues with his vocation of photographing the ordinary and everyday of Wales, its landscape and people.

The Aftermath

During the rescue, the shock and grief of parents and villagers was exacerbated by insensitive behaviour from the media—one rescue worker recalled hearing a press photographer asking a child to cry for her dead friends because it would make a good picture. The response of the general public in donating to the memorial fund, together with over 50,000 letters of condolence that accompanied many of the donations, helped many residents come to terms with the disaster. One bereaved mother said “People all over the world felt for us. We knew that with their letters and the contributions they sent … They helped us build a better Aberfan.” 

If you take the old single-track parish road which winds its way to the top of the Taff Valley and look down to the village of Aberfan, at first glance there is little to set it apart from any of the surrounding former mining communities. The rows of terraces so typical of the south Wales coalfield nestle, virtually unchanged in five decades, at the bottom of the steep valley. The River Taff, which skirts the village, once clogged and black with colliery filth, is clear once again and the salmon, otters and kingfishers have returned. The site of the once mighty Merthyr Vale colliery has all but vanished, landscaped and covered with trees. Its only relic, the mine sheave wheel on which the village turned for so long, is concreted into the roundabout of a newly-built road around the village. The bustling high street of family-run shops is also gone. Aberfan, along with the rest of the disinherited industrialised South Wales Valleys, has struggled with high unemployment and its incumbent social problems. 

In the cemetery on the hillside above the village, the two rows of children’s graves are prominent. The pearl white granite arches have offered a long-awaited redemption from pain for so many parents whose inscriptions have been added over the years as they were reunited with the children they waved goodbye to that cold, foggy, October morning. The cemetery, maintained by the disaster fund, which continues to offer educational grants, is immaculate as is the memorial garden where Pantglas school once stood. The garden’s tranquillity is not disturbed by the rhythmic whisk of traffic directly above it on the A470, the main route from the valleys into Cardiff, which now cuts through the path of the landslide. There is not a petal out of place in the borders of flowers which mirror the classroom configuration – a section for standard one, standard two, standard three and standard four.

Down the road on the site of the 18 houses which were destroyed is the Aberfan and Merthyr Vale Community Centre, again built with money from the disaster fund, where children learn to swim and adults attend Zumba and spin classes. Over the way a new school – Ynysowen Community Primary – was opened by the Queen in 2012 and is surrounded by playing fields created by the tonnes of shale waste cleared from the tips. As a result of Aberfan, legislation passed in 1969 put in place a strict policy on the practice of tipping. This in turn led to legislation being amended and reviewed across the world. The majority of tips in South Wales have been removed and the valleys, like Aberfan’s, are green again.

But look long enough and the outline of where they once stood above the village can be clearly seen. Despite fervent efforts to cultivate it, the grass which grows over the site of the tips is a different colour, a coarse, sickly yellow, as if nature itself refuses to ‘give up the ghost’ and forgive the “appalling calamity” of the past. It is consoling to think the pain which consumed the village – the shattered lives and unjust treatment of its working men and women – has made a significant difference, informing and influencing countless changes over the past 50 years. The majority of those men and women may not be around today. But the white-arch graves and the tainted grass above them will serve as an indelible reminder for who knows how many generations to come of their part in a defining moment in our nation’s history. For that dreadful day 60 years ago would ensure that, in the stirring words of the late, great broadcaster, writer and poet Gwyn Thomas, the ‘true voice of the English-speaking valleys’, Aberfan is different.

Was, Is, And Will Be

Telegraph hacks would not ordinarily consider that employees should have any say as to who their employers' proprietors were to be. Yet they ran a highly successful campaign to stop their paper from being bought by RedBird IMI. Thus was secured for the erstwhile opponents of the Leveson Report a change to the Statute Law to require government approval of such acquisitions in the future. They got that legislation out of the Conservatives. How the world turns.

And how has it worked out for them? Axel Springer SE has no sentimental attachment to the idea of the Telegraph, halfway between Evelyn Waugh and P.G. Wodehouse. If the axe really is about to be swung around Telegraph Towers, then the axemen could still save huge amounts of money if they replaced the axed with the people who had just been sacked from The Canary, publishing them under assumed names that suggested country houses and public schools, and then seeing whether or not anyone could tell the difference.

If you gloated over the debanking of Nigel Farage, then you cannot bemoan that of The Canary. Or if you cheered on the numerous hatchet jobs on Jeremy Corbyn, then you cannot object to the same treatment of Reform UK, even before we began on the head-spinning hypocrisy of Zack Polanski, who as a Liberal Democrat participated actively in the antisemitism scam against a political project that dared to suggest an alternative to the neoliberal economic order.

As it is, a Labour Government is deploying RAF Typhoon fighter jets to aid the Saudi devastation of Yemen, as if Saudi Arabia were short of military equipment. So much for the joint defence agreement, signed in very Mecca, between NATO Turkey, nuclear-armed and expansionist Pakistan, and the soon to be nuclear-armed Saudi Arabia, the nerve centre of the global Islamist terrorism that has already given it control of Syria, to the jubilation of every noisy Western know-nothing. Turkey has lately raided the popular and critical Halk TV, thereby halting its live broadcasts, while the Mayor of Istanbul, Ekrem İmamoÄŸlu, is on trial for 140 charges including corruption and running a criminal organisation, leaving him open to a prison term of up to 2430 years. He had been expected to contest the next Presidential Election on behalf of the Republican People's Party until the courts nullified its most recent congress and reinstalled its previous leaders. In NATO, our forces can be subject to officers who were answerable to the regime in Turkey.

But then, we love a good dictatorship. In the last few hours, the King has both hosted a State Banquet for the Sultan of Oman and made him a Stranger Knight of Garter, as befitted the Head of the last princely state of the British Empire, which plays host to the three GCHQ bases of Timpani, Guitar and Clarinet. Those tap into the undersea cables that pass through the Strait of Hormuz, before obediently passing on their findings to the United States National Security Agency. There is the British military base at Duqm. There is the Omani-British Joint Training Area. There is the training role of the Police Service of Northern Ireland. And so on. Yet since August, Oman has had an alliance-cum-business-partnership with Iran, which is one of the many reasons why Iran would have no need of the cast of the Fairford Farce. Amidst the hilarity, the rearrest of two of them just to stop Donald Trump from having a tantrum is a truly shameful episode, calling, in the fullness of time, for resignations at the very highest levels.

Will those calls be made in the Telegraph? Hardly. As much as anything else, it has already made itself friendless enough. If it did not rue the day that it had insisted on its present owner rather than the other one that was available, then it should ponder that by obtaining primary legislation to give the final say on such matters to the Government, it had empowered a Prime Minister with the closest possible ties to the spurned United Arab Emirates. And he, in turn, should mull over his arming of Saudi Arabia while the Saudis were arming the Sudanese Armed Forces that were engaged in an exceptionally vicious war against the Rapid Support Forces, themselves armed by the Emiratis, who should just set up a newspaper in Britain and tell anyone who did not like it to take it up with Andy Burnham.

Tuesday, 20 October 2026

Spooky Season

As she prepared for Prime Minister’s Questions, let Kemi Badenoch consider that Liam Byrne, Dame Anneliese Dodds and Sir Chris Bryant were all Privy Counsellors, yet Richard Holmes and Camilla Turner write:

Senior Labour MPs asked planted questions in Parliament after being lobbied by a former MI6 officer, The Telegraph can disclose. The MPs included Liam Byrne and Anneliese Dodds, both former ministers, and Sir Chris Bryant, a Cabinet minister. They spoke in the Commons after being lobbied by Christopher Steele, the former spy behind the infamous Trump-Russia dossier. They made claims about individuals conducting espionage, having secret ties to Russian spy agencies and having illicit financial dealings. Several of the allegations were later found to be inaccurate. In some cases, the questions directly benefited paying clients, a whistleblower has claimed. Statements made in Parliament are protected by law, and MPs cannot be sued for defamation – a rule known as parliamentary privilege – leaving targets without legal recourse. There is no suggestion Mr Steele knew the information he shared was inaccurate, or that he acted recklessly.

In 2013, Mr Byrne called for a debate on the alleged links between the Kremlin and Fraser Perring, a British financier whom he described as a “not infrequent visitor to Moscow”. This comment was based on a briefing from Mr Steele. Documents suggest Mr Steele was working with a private intelligence agency, which was acting on behalf of one of Mr Perring’s business rivals. Mr Perring claims never to have been to Moscow. Many of those targeted in Mr Steele’s briefings are on the political Right. Speaking in Parliament in 2018, Sir Chris accused Christopher Chandler, whose company backs GB News, and his brother Richard of taking money from “decidedly dodgy sources” then attempting to conceal this through “money-laundering”. These allegations were based on a briefing by Mr Steele, and were later found to be false.

Ms Dodds, a former foreign minister, raised questions in Parliament in 2022 about a Tory donor after a briefing by Mr Steele. She claimed a donation was made by a businessman with links to Russia. The Electoral Commission later dismissed the allegations. A spokesman for Ms Dodds said she had “raised questions in the Commons based on information taken in good faith”. A Labour party spokesman said that Mr Byrne, Ms Dodds and Sir Chris have never received money to ask questions in Parliament. Complaints submitted to the Labour Party, the Cabinet Office and Parliament’s Standards Commissioner have all been rejected because of parliamentary privilege.

‘We need rules for MPs’

The revelations raise questions about whether MPs had been carrying out sufficient checks before making allegations that could damage innocent people, and whether parliamentary privilege might be open to abuse. Under current rules, ministers and permanent secretaries of government departments must declare any meetings with lobbyists. However, no such rules exist for back-bench MPs. Dame Margaret Hodge, the Government’s anti-corruption champion, said: “The Telegraph’s investigation has demonstrated that we need rules for MPs – I would go further to say that a register of lobbying for all parliamentarians should also be explored and implemented.” Lord Young, director of the Free Speech Union, said: “Parliamentary privilege is an ancient right that protects democracy and free speech. But its survival depends on MPs checking their sources and facts, and being careful not to put damaging allegations into the public domain unless they are well founded.”

Liam Byrne

Documents seen by The Telegraph reveal that in 2023, Liam Byrne, a former Treasury minister, was briefed by Christopher Steele before he accused Fraser Perring, a British trader, of being a Russian agent working with the Kremlin. Mr Perring, a short-seller who finds overvalued companies and bets that their share prices will fall, was “a not infrequent visitor to Moscow”, according to Mr Byrne. The Labour MP, who was the author of the infamous note in 2010 telling the incoming coalition government there was “no money” left, is now chairman of the business select committee. Mr Byrne called for a debate in the Commons and urged MPs to stop short-sellers from becoming “another weapon in Putin’s arsenal”. 

A statement was written for him by Mr Steele, who was paid on behalf of a private intelligence firm, Audere International, a whistleblower claims. Its client was Steward Healthcare, a now-defunct hospital giant based in Texas and accused of fraud by Mr Perring. Later bankruptcy filings by Steward show millions of dollars of payments to Audere. The Telegraph has seen evidence that Walsingham Partners, Mr Steele’s management consultancy, was subsequently given £29,000. According to communications seen by The Telegraph, Audere drafted the question for Mr Byrne, and was particularly keen to ensure it named Viceroy Research, Mr Perring’s company. Mr Steele said he had “slightly modified” the text and sent it to “Liam” for “consideration”. The next day, Mr Byrne submitted a written parliamentary question about foreign short-selling threats against defence manufacturers. Two weeks later, he took to the Commons floor and explicitly named Viceroy and Mr Perring. 

Afterwards, Penny Mordaunt, then leader of the House of Commons, raised the allegations with Tom Tugendhat, Britain’s then security minister. An Audere associate sent a copy of this letter to the company’s founder, Charles Blackmore, who responded with, “Top banana! Well done”, and forwarded a message from “the client”, Steward Healthcare, praising the “great work”. A source close to Mr Steele said his businesses had never been “contracted” by Audere and had never engaged with or been aware of Steward Healthcare.

Mr Perring staunchly denied the allegations and said he had never been to Moscow. He was later sacked from the board of a renewable energy company, which said the allegations made his employment “untenable” and could “significantly inhibit” the firm’s ability to raise funds. Mr Perring has filed complaints with the Parliamentary Standards Commission, his local police force, and the Cabinet Office, urging them to investigate the claims and the motivation behind them, but no investigation has been launched. Regulators and the police said parliamentary privilege was a block to any meaningful inquiry. Mr Byrne has not corrected the record or offered an apology to Mr Perring.

Sir Chris Bryant

In May 2018, Sir Chris Bryant wrongly accused Christopher and Richard Chandler of taking money from “the Russian people” or “decidedly dodgy sources” then attempting to conceal this through “money-laundering”. He added that the Chandler brothers’ money had “infected our country’s political system” and warned that this “should be a matter of concern for us all”. He accused the brothers of “maintaining relations” with a “Chechen mafia figure, who was expelled from Monaco”. However, the claims were false. Sir Chris was forced to issue a rare apology for making them. He had been briefed by Christopher Steele, as were a handful of other MPs who spoke in Parliament about the Chandler brothers. Ben Bradshaw, a Labour MP at the time, called for an “urgent investigation by the UK authorities”. Bob Seely, a Tory MP at the time, claimed Mr Chandler could be “vulnerable to malign influence”. 

Claims about the Chandlers were first made in a written report in 2002 by Donald Berlin, an American private investigator. It included allegations of “illicit activity” by the brothers, including claims they were money-laundering “on behalf of high-level Russian officials and Russian organised crime”. These claims were false. A source close to Mr Steele said he was aware of the report but did not possess a copy. They added that neither he nor his company had been “paid for expressly targeting the Chandlers”. Mr Chandler is the chairman and a founding partner of Legatum, the private investment partnership, which is an investor in GB News. He ultimately won a defamation case against Mr Berlin and was awarded $8m (£6m) in damages in 2024 by a US court. 

After the debate in Parliament, Sir Chris repeated the claims in a letter to Liz Truss, the then foreign secretary, which he published on X. Unlike his comments in the Commons, this was not covered by parliamentary privilege. After being contacted by lawyers acting for Mr Chandler, he posted an apology: “It was not my intention to repeat those allegations which I accept have subsequently been disproved.” He agreed to correct the record in Parliament, and said he “regret[s] any distress caused to Mr Chandler”. He was required to make a charitable donation of £1,000 to settle the case, instead of a substantial damages award to Mr Chandler. Sir Chris, who has been a Labour MP since 2011, served as a junior minister under Gordon Brown’s Government. He is now a Cabinet minister, serving as Northern Ireland Secretary. Mr Chandler declined to comment.

Anneliese Dodds

In May 2022, Anneliese Dodds stood up in Parliament to claim there were “genuine questions to answer” about whether a donation to the Conservative Party from Sir Ehud Sheleg had links to Russia. At the time, Ms Dodds was the Labour Party chairman and a member of the shadow front bench. After Labour won the election, she was made a Cabinet minister by Sir Keir Starmer. Sir Ehud, a British-Israeli businessman and art dealer, gave £3.8m to the Tories between 2017 and 2020, making him one of their main donors. He was appointed Conservative Party treasurer in 2019 and spent two years in the role before stepping down. 

Ms Dodds asked a series of questions about Sir Ehud in Parliament, some based on an article published days earlier in the New York Times that alleged Sir Ehud received a substantial gift from Sergei Kopytov, his father-in-law, before donating to the Tories. However, some of Ms Dodds’s questions appeared to be based on new information that had not previously been in the public domain. These included questions about a Mercedes car apparently used by individuals involved in the Russian state, and the Sheleg-Kopytov family’s alleged connections to the Russian state. Ms Dodds claimed in Parliament that Mr Kopytov was a “former senior pro-Kremlin politician in Ukraine”. She then asked whether electoral law had been broken and whether Britain’s national security had been compromised.

Sir Ehud’s spokesman said the claims were false. They said Mr Kopyotov was “a Ukrainian victim and ... no Putin ‘ally’” who had sought refuge in the Czech Republic after losing his civil service job when the Russians annexed Crimea. The Russians planned to seize and nationalise his assets. The spokesman added: “Mr Kopytov has not made a donation to the Conservative Party, whether through Sir Ehud or by any other means. It’s completely untrue.” The Electoral Commission examined the allegations and concluded there was “no evidence that the party has committed an offence”, so it would not investigate.

Before Ms Dodds raised these issues in Parliament, she met Christopher Steele in her parliamentary office, where he presented her with research on Sir Ehud. This research included claims about the Mercedes. Documents seen by The Telegraph reveal that in early 2022, Mr Steele contacted one of his most trusted researchers about a particularly “sensitive” assignment: “The subject/target of interest is Sir Ehud Sheleg or, more specifically, his possibly Russian or Ukrainian second wife (further details unknown) whom he married in 2014. Can you identify her and any links she might have, especially familial, with the Russian authorities and particularly the political leadership in Crimea?” His researchers gathered information about Sir Ehud, his wife and his father-in-law, including their movements and business interests. The New York Times article alleged that Barclays Bank flagged a “suspicious activity report” with the National Crime Agency (NCA) over Mr Kopytov’s gift to his son-in-law.

‘Challenging potential foreign interference’

Sir Ehud’s lawyers said at the time that this was “entirely separate” from his political donation. The NCA ultimately said the donation was from a “permissible source” and took no action. A spokesman for Ms Dodds said: “Anneliese Dodds has a strong track record of challenging potential foreign interference in our politics. In 2022, Anneliese raised questions in the Commons based on information taken in good faith – the vast majority of which had already been reported on in the media.” A Labour source said that several MPs had previously raised questions about Sir Ehud as part of the “legitimate scrutiny that should be expected by MPs seeking to safeguard our democracy”. They added that the “vast majority” of information that had shaped the questions Ms Dodds asked in Parliament had already been in the public domain.

Christopher Steele

After spending more than two decades working for the British secret services, Christopher Steele now runs Orbis Business Intelligence, a private-investigation firm specialising in Russia. He is also a director at Walsingham Partners, a management consultancy. He came to public attention as the writer of a highly controversial and contested report about Donald Trump, which was leaked in 2017. It contained contested allegations that members of the US president’s campaign team had conspired with Russia to interfere in the presidential election in 2016 and that the Kremlin had kompromat, including a tape of prostitutes performing a sex act for Mr Trump in a Moscow hotel. A federal criminal investigation into Russian interference in the election, led by Robert Mueller, the special prosecutor, did not verify the existence of such a tape.

Mr Trump said the dossier was “fake” and contained “totally made up facts”, claiming that it was politically motivated. It later transpired that Hillary Clinton’s 2016 presidential campaign had helped to fund the dossier via intermediaries. The FBI launched a criminal inquiry into the report’s claims, which in turn led to Mr Trump ordering an investigation into the FBI and Mr Steele’s involvement. The US department of justice’s inspector-general published a report in 2019 stating that the CIA had dismissed the Steele dossier as little more than “an internet rumour” and that the FBI had only been able to corroborate “limited information” from it, much of which was publicly available. Mr Steele told journalists that he believed the contents of the dossier to be between 70 and 90 per cent accurate, with certain aspects – including the claim that prostitutes had carried out a sex act in Mr Trump’s presence – as little as 50 per cent.

‘Entirely normal and proper’

Mr Bradshaw said: “As one of the first MPs to raise concerns about hostile Russian interference in Britain, I was approached by several experts who shared my concern that the then Conservative government was not taking the Kremlin threat seriously, including Chris Steele, a former UK intelligence officer, Russia specialist and someone of integrity for whom I have the utmost respect. “Our concerns were subsequently borne out by events and the 2020 report by Parliament’s intelligence and security committee which found the Government had ‘taken their eye off the ball’ and ‘seriously underestimated the Russian threat’.”

Mr Steele declined to comment. A source close to him explained that Orbis Business Intelligence had commercial clients and was contracted by them for their benefit, which was “entirely normal and proper in business”. They said Walsingham Partners was run on a not-for-profit basis and funded by donors who did not gain from its work, or from engagement with parliamentarians or others, adding that all of Walsingham’s donors in recent years had been British citizens. They added: “In no case would Orbis or Walsingham provide parliamentarians with intelligence or assessment which we believed was not produced from credible sources.”

Damian Collins, the former Tory MP who is now a non-executive director of Orbis, told The Telegraph: “Orbis Business Intelligence does not engage in lobbying as defined by UK law. Furthermore, in my experience, MPs who have met Christopher Steele are fully aware of who he is and the nature of the professional services his company provides. In any case where information obtained by Orbis Business Intelligence through a commercial relationship with one of its clients has subsequently been shared with an MP, that client relationship has also been disclosed to them.” He said Mr Steele had “considered it his patriotic duty to make such information available to trusted contacts in Parliament when requested”. He added: “The use of that evidence, whether in reports published by Parliament or in statements made on the floor of the House, is ultimately the responsibility of MPs and their decision alone.”

Meanwhile, Kit Klarenberg writes:

Private messages show show Hamish De Bretton-Gordon, a top British pundit on the Salisbury poisoning incident, was a close associate of the MI6 officer who handled the Russian intelligence defector at the center of the scandal — and reaped considerable benefits from his proximity to the case.

This September, a former British Army officer named Hamish De Bretton-Gordon filed a column with the UK Telegraph complaining that “Russian bots” had “tried to make out that I’m part of a security service conspiracy.” Having shot to prominence as a media commentator on chemical and biological weapons after the alleged poisoning of turncoat Russian spy Sergei Skripal, De Bretton-Gordon dismissed accusations that he collaborated with UK intelligence as the product of the “Kremlin’s malign tactics.”

Despite his fervent denials, leaked emails reviewed by The Grayzone indicate that De Bretton-Gordon has spent years privately coordinating his public statements with senior British military and intelligence figures. The correspondences show him training operatives in Turkey and instructing Israeli military figures on Syria’s still-elusive stockpile of chemical weapons, “and a bit of Novichok,” referring to the Russian toxin supposedly used to poison Skripal.

They also suggest he stood to profit personally from exaggerating the threat posed by Russia. In the emails, De Bretton-Gordon described his day job as “flogging gas masks” to British military and law enforcement. He seemingly grew his firm’s business with outlandish warnings of imminent Novichok hand grenade attacks by Russian agents. As his prominence grew, the BBC hired De Bretton-Gordon to serve as an advisor on a drama about the Skripal poisoning.

His principal contact listed in the emails is Pablo Miller, an MI6 officer and veteran of the Royal Tank Regiment. Miller is widely believed to have recruited and handled Skripal before the Russian GRU defector was allegedly poisoned in Salisbury, England in March 2018 under questionable circumstances.

After the Salisbury incident, the British government issued a D-notice to prevent mainstream reporters from investigating Miller’s relationship with Skripal. Despite being an obvious subject of interest, Miller went completely unmentioned during the rolling coverage that dominated British media for months as a result.

The emails show Miller was nonetheless following that coverage closely. In June 2018, he wrote to De Bretton-Gordon thanking him for his “sterling media work” during what he called the “dark days of March and April.” During that period De Bretton-Gordon appeared in British newspapers and television reports on the poisoning on a near-daily basis, consistently attributing blame to the Kremlin without evidence and emphasizing the chemical weapons threat he claimed Russia posed.

The next month, De Bretton-Gordon sent his MI6 pal a lengthy Telegraph article warning of potential all-out chemical and biological wars with “rogue” states. De Bretton-Gordon’s commentary featured extensively in the piece, which framed Britain as a sitting duck in the event that Moscow were to target the country with missiles equipped with nerve agents or other toxic weapons.

When not hyping up De Bretton-Gordon’s apocalyptic warnings of potential Russian chemical weapons attacks, the article functioned as a long-form infomercial for his then-employer, Avon Protection Systems. The firm, which manufactures protective equipment for military, law enforcement and fire personnel, stood to profit handsomely from inflated perceptions of what governments call Chemical, Biological, Radiological, and Nuclear (CBRN) threats. De Bretton-Gordon’s email signature at the time identified him as the company’s Managing Director for CBRN.

De Bretton-Gordon’s big break 

The Telegraph noted the company’s business was “booming,” with orders “flooding in” from government clients the world over, supposedly reflecting how “a new age of poison weapons is upon us.” Later in the piece, an Avon executive boasted that the Salisbury incident and other recent alleged CBRN usage had “been good for us.” Britain’s elite SAS were among the cited customers for the “sinister looking” gas masks sold by Avon Protection Systems, which were said to be “worthy of Darth Vader.” At no point did the Telegraph article mention De Bretton-Gordon’s employment by Avon.

But thanks to his newfound media prominence, De Bretton-Gordon wouldn’t have to stay with the company much longer. In January 2020, he emailed Pablo Miller bragging that he had “been offered a fellowship” at Cambridge University. De Bretton-Gordon wrote that he’d decided to accept the role because, in his words, “it beats flogging gas masks!” Four months later, De Bretton-Gordon founded a dedicated personal “CBRN and bio security” consulting firm, in an apparent attempt to derive profit from his talent for stoking public fears of looming chemical and biological catastrophe.

De Bretton-Gordon helps MI6 officer avoid media scrutiny 

The leaked emails show De Bretton-Gordon quickly emerged as a preferred adviser for the BBC, and repeatedly served as a go-between for Miller and the British broadcaster, whose journalists had apparently become aware that Miller was an MI6 officer. Correspondence from November 2018 shows De Bretton-Gordon was also rewarded for his relentless media appearances with a position as a “senior CBRN mentor” in Britain’s Ministry of Defence. Though the work was unpaid, he received an MOD ID card and Ministry railcard, saving him substantial sums on train travel. De Bretton-Gordon wrote Miller to inform him of his new title, noting that he was currently advising the BBC on what he derided as “CBRN ‘pisch’” for a forthcoming “drama on Salisbury.”

“I’ve been asked by the writer if you would be interested in contributing,” he mentioned to Miller, adding that he’d told the British broadcasters that the spy was unlikely to agree. The MI6 veteran responded, “you correctly guessed my answer to the BBC question… it would not be appropriate for me to comment in public on the issue.” Miller lamented that the British state broadcaster’s cognizance of his clandestine involvement with Skripal indicated his “true professional provenance” had “long ceased to be much of a secret.” But he wished De Bretton-Gordon good luck, telling his colleague that he was sure the drama would succeed given his “expert guidance.”

The next January, De Bretton-Gordon explicitly described Skripal as Miller’s friend when forwarding him a Forces News article on the removal of the roof of the Russian defector’s former home, excitedly informing him, “I see your mate is in the news again!” De Bretton-Gordon was quoted liberally in the report, explaining it was necessary to remove the roof as it had allegedly accumulated “enough Novichok to kill thousands of people.” The chemical warrior claimed British authorities were now “much better prepared to deal” with future CBRN attacks in the aftermath of the incident. 

Weeks later, De Bretton-Gordon emailed Miller to warn him Salisbury “will be awash with journos” on the March 4 anniversary of Skripal’s poisoning. In response, Miller thanked his friend for the “heads-up,” and wrote that he’d likely be leaving the country to ensure he was far away from the city while it filled up with reporters. 

The correspondence also reveals how close the two men had become, and how their relationship had begun to blur into commercial territory. In October 2019, Miller asked De Bretton-Gordon to help publicize a Kickstarter for his daughter’s theatre production — a personal favor suggesting a friendship rather than a purely professional engagement. But Miller refused to let media contacts anywhere near it, explaining that following the Salisbury incident his daughters were forced to close their social media accounts after being relentlessly hounded by the press. 

During the same exchange, De Bretton-Gordon reminded Miller he’d been contracted for an upcoming BBC drama on Salisbury, and once again offered him a role. Miller declined, saying he was firmly opposed to playing “any part for any BBC show. Ever.” De Bretton-Gordon defended his participation in the project by revealing that the MOD had specifically requested he “help on the Salisbury piece… to make sure the military bit looks right.”  The production in question was a three-part BBC One series that aired in 2020 called “The Salisbury Poisonings.” The project’s IMDB page lists De Bretton-Gordon as a “military advisor.”

De Bretton-Gordon wants critics “prosecuted for treason” 

As The Grayzone previously revealed, De Bretton-Gordon played a deeply malign, multifaceted role throughout the Syrian dirty war. On top of endless media appearances as a bogus “expert” on CBRN matters, he was part of a covert MI6 effort to smuggle soil samples out of opposition-controlled areas in an effort to prove the Syrian government used chemical weapons. A report on this initiative in the Mirror tabloid made clear the purpose of British intelligence was prodding the US into military intervention against Assad.

It seems plausible whatever samples De Bretton-Gordon gathered in Syria were concocted, perhaps by his own hand. He provided evidence to a number of official investigations into purported chemical attacks during the conflict. In at least one instance – an OPCW/UN Joint Investigative Mechanism (JIM) probe into an alleged April 2014 toxic gas strike in Talmenes – videos submitted by an opaque NGO De Bretton-Gordon founded called CBRN Taskforce were found to show clear signs of falsification. 

De Bretton-Gordon’s communications with his spy buddy contain references to him visiting Turkey, “to do a bit of training.” The country was the central hub for MI6 and CIA operations during the dirty war on Syria. It is an open question whether his training sessions covered staging chemical weapons attacks, and if other states in the region were taught in this dark art.

The self-styled CBRN expert also bragged about sharing his purported expertise with the Israeli military. In an email sent in December of 2018 De Bretton-Gordon boasted to Miller that he’d just returned “from Israel,” where he said he’d been “briefing the IDF (and no doubt others!) on Syrian [chemical weapons] and a bit of Novichok.” He was clearly impressed by the Israelis, crowing, “Those boys don’t mess about!” De Bretton-Gordon’s work overseas was apparently taking a toll on his day job, however. In an email that month to Miller, he explained how he was “always on the edge of sacking with all my ‘extra’ activities.” These machinations also put him in conflict with Peter Ford, Britain’s ambassador to Syria from 2003 to 2006, who’d become an outspoken critic of the dirty war against Damascus.

After De Bretton-Gordon authored an op-ed for The Telegraph in May 2019 demanding the West intervene to prevent Syrian government forces from recapturing Syria’s Idlib, Ford issued a response nailing his failure to acknowledge that the province was at the time under the control of the MI6-supported Al Qaeda affiliate, Hayʼat Tahrir al-Sham. In response, De Bretton-Gordon emailed Miller a note deriding Ford as a “complete See You Next Tuesday” who parroted “Assad and Putin propaganda.” He called for Ford – and the members of a now-defunct collective of antiwar academics known as the Working Group on Syria, Propaganda and Media – to be “prosecuted for treason.” De Bretton-Gordon seemed particularly piqued that the academic collective had poked holes in the narrative he’d spun about Syrian chemical attacks.

De Bretton-Gordon cheers as his enemies “exposed” 

In August that year, De Bretton-Gordon contacted Miller to celebrate The Times publishing a hit piece on David Miller, a member of the Working Group on Syria, Propaganda and Media. “Glad to see that some of Assad’s and Putin’s ‘useful idiots’ who try and give me a hard time are being exposed,” De Bretton-Gordon cheered, before suggesting “must get more of them out in the open.” This prompted a wider discussion about the so-called “stooges” who publicly challenged established, MI6-approved media narratives on Syria and Russia.

For his part, Pablo Miller expressed disgust over a recent “fawning evaluation” of Putin’s 20 years in power by dissident journalist Mary Dejevsky. Miller derided Dejevsky as one of many media figures who foolishly believed “Putin was the answer to Russia’s woes,” and suggested without evidence that she was likely “taking Moscow gold.” Thankfully, he added, events “Crimea, Syria, and Salisbury” had managed to “wake the twits up.”

The slanted manner in which these events were framed in the media did indeed coincide with a perceptibly negative shift in public sentiment towards Russia throughout the West, helping make a world-threatening standoff with Moscow a fait accompli. At every step, De Bretton-Gordon and other intelligence-aligned commentators acted as military and intelligence propagandists, ensuring the media and popular culture was constantly deluged with paranoia over a multi-spectrum Russian “threat.” Those who question the narrative are denigrated as “useful idiots,” and much worse.

This August 6, De Bretton-Gordon based an entire op-ed for The Telegraph on a conversation he’d recently had with an unnamed “Western intelligence officer” of his acquaintance. Could that anonymous spy have been Pablo Miller? The self-styled chemical warfare expert was clearly not keen to discuss his relationship with the MI6 man. De Bretton-Gordon immediately hung up the phone when I reached him and identified myself as a journalist.