You knew it went on
|
The whispers you have heard for years are finally coming out, according to 'Kevin Fulton'. This guy went deep undercover & for what, Saving lives? No, massaging ego's if what you read is true. The book takes you along at a very good speed & is in essence, a very good book, a bit short, if I was to be cynical. There are not a lot of real surprises in this book, just confirmation that trust was weak on the ground & in some cases, confirmation that there were more than one enemy in this god for saken war.
|
|
Dirty War Dirty Book
|
Unsung Hero: How I Saved Dozens of Lives as a Secret Agent Inside the IRA
Kevin Fulton with Jim Nally and Ian Gallagher
John Blake, London, England 2006
[Quote]
Espionage involves peeking at the other fellow's hand, marking the cards,
cooking the books, poisoning the well, breaking the rules, hitting below
the belt, cheating, lying, deceiving, defaming, snooping, eavesdropping,
prying, stealing, bribing, suborning, burglarizing, forging, misleading,
conducting dirty tricks, dirty pool, skulduggery, blackmail, seduction,
everything not sporting, not kosher, not cricket. In short, espionage stands
virtue on its head and elevates vice instead. -- Joseph E. Persico,
Roosevelt's Secret War: FDR and World War II Espionage.
[Unquote]
A press report recently claimed Kevin Fulton's book would become an American
movie, starring Leonardo DiCaprio as Fulton. DiCaprio may not want to be
associated with a film that accurately portrays Fulton's role in murder and
mayhem in Northern Ireland.
Fulton -- a pseudonym for Peter Keeley, if that name is real -- has written
a repugnant account of his 21 years as an undercover agent of British
intelligence infiltrating the IRA, snitching on its members and operations
to teams of agent handlers even more immoral, learning to be a bombmaker,
building bombs and helping murderous operations.
Chilling is his description of the slow, long-term ingratiation and
obsequiousness agents use to get themselves inside the suspicion and paranoia
of targets expecting to be infiltrated but suspectible to craven underlings'
fawning and servitude. Martin Ingram, another undercover agent, has also
described the way agents eventually wear down hard-bitten operators by using
the most common methods of building friendship and trust -- reminding of
treacherous politicians, journalists and lovers.
Fulton had been recruited while in the Army because he was from the NI area
and the people who became his targets, and he jumped at the chance to become
important, an extension of his reason for joining the military. In this desire
to rise above his origins, the recruiters had the key to twist his patriotic
heart and mind to gain entry to a closed society bred to guard against outsiders,
and in particular to expect betrayal from within.
He conveys how official covert operators induce hapless recruits to sneakily
infiltrate the enemy with underhanded methods exactly like their opponents,
and worse when magnified by national leverage and resources. Fulton only
one of dozens similarly entrapped and abandoned when no longer useful.
Fulton brags of triumph in eventually getting inside IRA protections, his
handlers praise him, boost his pay, parade him before admiring superiors
back in England. Send him back to burrow deeper into IRA trust by engaging
in murderous operations, directed by the homicidal Force Research Unit (FRU).
For this Fulton claims to be an unsung hero, describing his misgivings about
what he was doing but suppressing an urge to quit, persuaded to continue
by flattery of his slimey handlers, relishing the steady pay and promise
of a fat payoff after service. To buck up, Fulton regins the excitement of
secret valor and feeling special, serving high authority for a noble cause
-- hearing the brave soldiers amarching, saluting the totem.
What he was, he writes, was a fool to believe what the British government
told him, beguiled him with, then dumped him, failed to deliver on the promises,
and now wishes him as shot dead as Denis Donaldson, until then as hated as
Freddie "Stakeknife" Scappaticci. (Scap is concealed as the "Michael" in
the book whose two blood-curdling interrogations of Fulton and his wife
frightened Fulton into terminating his secret service to escape a bullet
to the head certain to follow a third questioning.)
There are no heros in his story, sung or unsung. All the characters are
despicable, treacherous, self-serving, liars and cheats, and they all spew
a rationale for their criminality of serving others, a cause, a nation --
the oldest scam in history for those unable to function in an open, lawful
society.
Nor are lives saved as Fulton claims -- as covert operators always claim
and instruct their agents to lie. Instead dozens die from operations of which
he was a part and which the British government condoned. Fulton cloaks his
guilt by avoiding frank confession, uses pseudonyms for murderers, adopts
legalisms to escape culpability, hints at what he cannot tell -- all the
characteristics of the dirty player massaging the truth and ducking
accountability.
Fulton emphasizes he is a target for killing by those he harmed, and will
forever be on the run, in contrast to the safety and anonymity of his handlers.
But that is a favorite ploy of undercover agents hoping to make a buck from
their revelations which are no different than the lies and and deceptions
they practiced covertly. Fulton believes the risk, but the odds are no harm
will come to him: few agents and even fewer spies ever suffer for the harm
they have caused, no matter their hyped dead-hero medals, plaques and honors,
most retire to comfortable insignificance.
The book is an electroshock for anybody who wants to be an undercover spy
or wants to get in bed with spies, a bugged-eye view of the sado-masochist
hamburgering of agents and innocent victims by uncontrollable spooks on behalf
of "national security" -- that most sacred of cows needing beefed.
It is a vicious tale of what spies do to, and with, their gullible agents
to bribe, seduce and coerce malleable eager beavers to carry out harmful
operations that the spies themselves are too cowardly, and too smart, to
execute. Then chucking the rubes, laughing. It is an antidote to the valor
and glory promised by the intelligence agencies job ads.
There is no way to know Fulton's book is accurate in what it reveals and
conceals, tells the truth about and lies, or if it is a continuing part of
his official service, until the Offical Secrets Act is dissolved and hell
freezes. Spies and their agents enjoy spreading doubt and confusion, distrust
and hatred, under guise of protecting the public. This produces a bountiful
outpouring of novels, movies, leaks, exposes, governmental reports concerning
so-called hard truths of national security, confessions, hearings, repugnant
stories of what had to be done.
In the face of the enduring practice of governments to lie about secrect
operations, it is impossible to trust Fulton or anybody who has ever been
associated with secret operations because most, maybe all, never, cannot,
forgo that protective opium habit of getting high on patriotic importance.
Revelations and accusations of ex-agents and ex-spies are standard tradefcraft
deception and disinformation, but then so are counter-efforts to smear the
whistleblowers, to foster killing retribution.
Spies are as terrified of tranquillity as the military fears peace.
-- Cryptome
|
|
|
United States | 
United Kingdom | 
Canada