…In fact as in fiction, the spy is the indispensable person of our time. Yet their activity poses a deadly threat to the open society…
…In all secret service literature, fiction and nonfiction alike, there is an ambiguous and extremely complex relationship between myth and reality. Such a relationship exists, indeed, within the covert organizations themselves. Somerset Maugham, who served in the British Secret Intelligence During World War I, was probably the first modern writer to be struck by the tendency of the secret service to imitate art-the art of the popular thriller. This phenomenon, which might be termed the Ashenden Effect after the eponymous hero of Maugham’s semiautobiographical espionage tales, was since confirmed by a number of other writers of secret service fiction- most notably Graham Greene and Compton Mackenzie- who themselves had actual secret service experience.
Thus the writer of spy thrillers or romanticized secret service history and the real-life covert operator are dialectical partners. The former, by glamorizing the secret agent, creates an archetype upon which the ladder tends to model his professional behavior, and they in turn authenticate the writer’s fantasy. This dialectic goes a long way to ward explaining the hold the secret agent has acquired on the popular imagination.
For the secret agent is more than a collective fantasy exploited for entertainment, like such comparable, if dated, synthetic folk heroes as the cowboy, the great detective, and the gang-buster. Entertainment is only their cover. Though it is hard to write about them, or even think about them, without mentally putting one’s tongue in one’s cheek, they are not really a figure of fun. More and more they appear to be assuming the role of a culture hero in the true sense: a mythical personification of the aspirations and ideals of a society, or, if not a whole society, a dangerously large segment of one- specifically ours.
Perhaps even more disquieting, as the hero’s mythical stature grows, the moral values they incarnate seem to degenerate. James Bond is a more sinister figure than the gentlemanly amateur agents with whom John Buchan’s readers identified, and E. Howard Hunt’s Peter Ward is in several respects still worse, since it exhibited a moral nihilism mixed with paranoia and self-righteousness. in one story, a the prescient line reflects the whole Watergate mess: “We become lawless in the struggle for the rule of the law.”