Let’s call him a Truth Seeker—one of many, I dare to hope. He mentioned that, once upon a time, the agent in the Kenova report—the one who officially doesn’t exist but whom every dog on the street seems to know—lived in a quaint little community in County Down. Another voice chimed in that he’s lived in more houses than you or I have had Sunday roasts. That rang true. I don’t recall many Sunday roasts growing up; there were too many marauding mouths to feed in our house for a single roast to survive beyond the first sitting.
That detail triggered a memory: a meeting I once had with the agent-who-doesn’t-exist at a tourist spot beside a beautiful lake. He invited me up to feed the swans. It was a long way to go for swans. I went anyway, just for the craic, and never once questioned the location. The truth is, I was still in my Republican nappies, so the less said the better. I do remember briefly wondering whether it was reckless or brazenly bold—given the area was home to security forces and well-to-do Unionists. Ignorance is bliss, and I was clearly guilty of incuriosity. Looking back now, though, the idea that he had his own personal rat hole nearby makes perfect sense. He wasn’t reckless or bold at all. He was in his natural habitat.
That was then. Times, they are a-changin’. Perhaps I’m too curious now. Funnier still is that some people are paid to be curious—their careers are built on it—yet they’ve managed to ignore the most obvious and controversial issue staring them in the face, without so much as a twitch suggesting they might probe it.
Another Truth Seeker recently asked me about certain journalists, sending me rummaging through the recesses of my brain to see what I’d missed—again. Not long ago, articles were circulating online pointing out how certain northern journalists have ignored the agent-who-doesn’t-exist, despite documented links to him. Normally, it pays not to react to every online provocation. But this Truth Seeker might be onto something. For one, the journalists in question were close enough to the agent to adjust his hidden microphone. Two, their careers are long, respected, and well established. Three, their paths have crossed for decades.
So how is it possible they’ve never reported on one of the most explosive stories in the North? Their lack of professional curiosity deserves Olympic gold—especially given that some were tipped off years ago by a friendly source. They chase major crimes and political heavyweights, yet suddenly turn coy when confronted with a British agent who slipped through the Stakeknife saga. Voltaire warned: “Cherish those who seek the truth but beware of those who find it.” True to form, these journalists cherry-picked their truths. When the agent-who-doesn’t-exist appeared, they heard no evil, saw no evil, and published no evil.
And now, ironically, they’re becoming the story.
⏩Michael Phillips is a former republican prisoner.
That detail triggered a memory: a meeting I once had with the agent-who-doesn’t-exist at a tourist spot beside a beautiful lake. He invited me up to feed the swans. It was a long way to go for swans. I went anyway, just for the craic, and never once questioned the location. The truth is, I was still in my Republican nappies, so the less said the better. I do remember briefly wondering whether it was reckless or brazenly bold—given the area was home to security forces and well-to-do Unionists. Ignorance is bliss, and I was clearly guilty of incuriosity. Looking back now, though, the idea that he had his own personal rat hole nearby makes perfect sense. He wasn’t reckless or bold at all. He was in his natural habitat.
That was then. Times, they are a-changin’. Perhaps I’m too curious now. Funnier still is that some people are paid to be curious—their careers are built on it—yet they’ve managed to ignore the most obvious and controversial issue staring them in the face, without so much as a twitch suggesting they might probe it.
Another Truth Seeker recently asked me about certain journalists, sending me rummaging through the recesses of my brain to see what I’d missed—again. Not long ago, articles were circulating online pointing out how certain northern journalists have ignored the agent-who-doesn’t-exist, despite documented links to him. Normally, it pays not to react to every online provocation. But this Truth Seeker might be onto something. For one, the journalists in question were close enough to the agent to adjust his hidden microphone. Two, their careers are long, respected, and well established. Three, their paths have crossed for decades.
So how is it possible they’ve never reported on one of the most explosive stories in the North? Their lack of professional curiosity deserves Olympic gold—especially given that some were tipped off years ago by a friendly source. They chase major crimes and political heavyweights, yet suddenly turn coy when confronted with a British agent who slipped through the Stakeknife saga. Voltaire warned: “Cherish those who seek the truth but beware of those who find it.” True to form, these journalists cherry-picked their truths. When the agent-who-doesn’t-exist appeared, they heard no evil, saw no evil, and published no evil.
And now, ironically, they’re becoming the story.
⏩Michael Phillips is a former republican prisoner.
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