The British born Soviet spy Kim Philby (1912-1988) is one of the most notorious figures in twentieth-century British history. This passport documents his travels during the Spanish Civil War, having already been turned by Russia.
The son of Dora Johnston and St. John Philby (the explorer who later became a civil servant in Mesopotamia and advisor to King Ibn Sa’ud of Saudia Arabia), Harold Adrian Russell Philby (nicknamed “Kim,” after the child spy in Kipling’s eponymous novel) was educated at Westminster School and Trinity College, Cambridge. It was at Cambridge that he developed leanings towards communism and met Donald Maclean, Guy Burgess, Anthony Blunt, and John Cairncross, who together with Philby constituted the “Cambridge Five,” a loose-knit cabal of spies for the Soviets who would eventually cause great harm to British interests overseas. At the time this passport was issued, Philby was working for the Times of London, travelling extensively to Spain during the Spanish Civil War, as witness the many endorsements on the visa pages of the passport for travel to the region. He was injured in December 1937, when a car in which he was travelling with other members of the press corps was shelled by Republican forces. Meanwhile, he was already working for Russia, gathering information useful to Soviet interests.
Every page of the passport is complete, almost all the stamps are for trips to France, Gibraltar and, of course, Spain. There are numerous visas issued “valid for a single journey to Spain. Holder is proceeding there as accredited correspondent of the Times of London.”
His time in Spain was critical for his overall cover story. As a correspondent for the Times, “he went to Spain in February 1937 to cover the Spanish Civil War from the point of view of General Franco (whose planned assassination was part of his original brief), who awarded him the red cross of military merit. He left Spain in August 1939 with his overt right-wing credentials established” (ODNB).
With the outbreak of the Second World War, Philby joined MI6 and was soon acting as an instructor in clandestine propaganda and sabotage. He was contacted once more by OGPU (his contacts with the Soviets having lapsed with the outbreak of war), and on their instructions, he became deputy head of section five and head of section nine of MI6, the latter (ironically) dealing with anti-Communist efforts. After the end of the war, his involvement with British Intelligence continued, as did his communications with his Soviet handlers. By 1949, he was the chief British intelligence representative in Washington. His effectiveness there was compromised by the 1951 affair in which his associates Burgess and Maclean fled to Moscow. Still, he avoided direct implication as a Soviet agent until 1963, when in January he fled to Moscow via a freighter bound for Odessa. He lived out the rest of his life in exile in Moscow.
Sergey Kanev’s article in The Insider notes the effect of Philby’s death, and the collapse of the rubel, on his Russian widow, Rufina (née Pukhova): “[h]er husband’s demise left Rufa Pukhova penniless, forcing her to start selling his personal effects. The ‘spy artifacts’ were purchased mostly by Philby’s former students who jokingly called themselves ‘the Philbophiles’.” Indeed, five years after Philby’s death, Rufina endeavoured to sell his archive to the British Library. While interested, the library declined under pressure from John Major’s government which feared a backlash for using public funds to enrich Philby’s family. The archive was then consigned to Sotheby’s and was sold on 19 July, 1994, bringing in £150,000 - far more than the £68,000 asked of the British Library.
A remarkable souvenir belonging to one of the most extraordinary figures in one of the greatest intelligence debacles of the twentieth century.
Kanev, S., “Safehouse blown. How Russian intelligence chief’s lady friend snatched Kim Philby’s apartment from his students” in The Insider, 10 January 2023 accessed online 21 August, 2026; Norman, G., “The last effects of treachery … “ in The Independent, 24 April, 1994, accessed online 21 August, 2026; Sotheby’s English Literature, History and Illustration (sale LN4421), London, 19 July, 1994, lots 360-417.
