John le Carré: We Are Our Own Worst Enemy

I've been reading another John Le Carré novel and it's helped confirm a thought I had earlier: he's a master of writing about bureaucracy. Yes, he write about spies, but as in the United States, Britain's spy agency is a massive government bureaucracy. And for all the intrigue, his stories often revolve around the politics within such bureaucratic organizations. They're stories that revolve around the petty squabbles, budgetary fights, the incompetence of upper management, and the careerism that so often trumps competence, and that sees pedigree repeatedly triumph over talent and hard work. And I think this is a big part of the appeal: the intrigue draws you in, but at the end of the day, he’s writing about our workplaces.

In the novels I've read, Smiley's real enemy isn't his Soviet adversary, Karla. Instead, his main obstacles alway come from those on his “side,” who are never motivated by the ostensible goal of their agency (in this case, to stop the Soviet Union), but are instead motivated by the kinds of petty motivations that animate those in upper management. These people want to advance their careers, they want power, and they want to maintain their class position. But they generally only want to stop the Soviet Union to the extent that doing so would advance their interests, and they’d happily drop this goal (or even impede it), if it got in the way of their own personal advancement. They say all the right things about the threat posed by the Soviet Union, but their ideology is always skin deep, and their true motives are never far from the surface.

Unfortunately, management’s primary obstacle isn't the Soviet Union. In fact, the Soviets are clever enough to make use of these motivations when the opportunity presents itself, helping advance careers whenever it suits their interests. Instead, management’s main obstacle is George Smiley, sometime head of the British spy agency, but whose integrity rarely coheres with the motives that actually animates the bureaucracy. As a result, Smiley’s successes and failures speak less to the cleverness of his Soviet adversary, Karla, and more to the obstacles presented by his supposed allies. When he wins, it’s because his “friends” don’t have enough at stake to stand in his way (or he’s able to overcome their obstruction), and when he fails, it’s because he’s run up against the intransigent self-interest of the higher-ups.

In le Carré’s novels, we therefore learn very little about the Soviet adversary on whom Smiley keeps an almost unwavering focus. Instead, le Carré shines a light on us, helping reveal the corruption that lies at our core. Or, as Smiley tells Karla in Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy: “Don't you think it's time to recognise that there is as little worth on your side as there is on mine?”