The Brotherhood

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He was born on 26 September 1951 in Hainault, Essex, and retained his roots in the area. He went to West Hatch Technical High School in Chigwell and in 1969 started a series of jobs on local newspapers, including the Horn-church Echo, East London Advertiser and Ilford Recorder where he worked as chief reporter and feature writer. In 1975 he switched to the Travel Trade Gazette but his break came in 1976 when he wrote Jack The Ripper: The Final Solution - a massive commercial success that still sells in substantial numbers today. He was just 25.

By now married and soon to be a father, he next wrote a novel about a series of murders committed in 1902 by the ‘Deptford Strangler’. This book, Requiem at Rogano, was published in 1979. But while his literary career was flourishing, his epilepsy attacks became more frequent. These led to the discovery of the brain tumour (as described above) and its removal by surgeons at the Maudsley Hospital, when all seemed well again. He threw his remarkable energies into researching the Freemasons. During this period he came to see me about my work on the brethren’s murky dealings in local government and the police.

Physically Stephen had a wispy frame and looked (to this tubby observer) in need of good solid meals. I did not know whether to put his debilitated look down to ill-health or if it was his natural build. In due course he published some of what I had told him in The Brotherhood (thanking me in his acknowledgments). I do not think that even he could have foreseen the huge stir that his book would create when it appeared in 1983. To date it has sold a staggering half a million copies.

Seemingly unstoppable, in 1984 he turned out another true-life mystery book: The Killing of Justice Godfrey. This offered a solution to one of the longest unsolved murder cases in British history: the killing of ‘the best JP in London’ in 1678 at a time of anti-Catholic hysteria, greatly inflamed by the poisonous lies of Titus Oates.

It may not be a coincidence that Stephen’s prolonged investigations into religious mania and secret societies overlapped with his decision to embrace the teachings of the Bhagwan Shree Rajneesh, the controversial Indian religious leader, whose authorized biography was subtitled, ‘The Most Dangerous Man Since Jesus Christ’. Stephen became his disciple or sannyasin and, for a short while, took to donning the orange robes of the cult in public.

When news of his conversion reached Freemasons’ Hall, the London HQ of the United Grand Lodge of England, the brotherhood used it to try and discredit him. In due course it called him ‘a devotee of the Sri Rajneesh Bagwan cult’ [sic]. Maybe this would convince some people to reject his view of Freemasonry but it struck me as laughable that members of one cult should demean someone else for belonging to another. Not just the pot calling the kettle black, but the men in blue aprons calling the orange people potty.

In fact Stephen followed the Bhagwan for only two years. By the time he died he had been received back into the Church of England. Maybe his death had been hastened by his decision to stop an 18-month course of chemotherapy. This had been prescribed to kill the 30 per cent of the new tumour which surgery could not remove because it was too close to the parts of the brain that control speech and movement. Certainly he knew he was going to die fairly soon so he switched to the natural therapy of a diet of fruit and vegetables to avoid the nausea and vomiting brought on by chemotherapy.

When he died in July 1985 Stephen was just 33 years old. For friends and foes of Freemasonry this fact had serious implications. It convinced some folk that he had indeed been sentenced to death by Masonic justice. To Freemasons the number 33 signifies the 33 degrees of the Rose Croix, an elect ‘Christian’ Masonic order which Stephen had attacked in The Brotherhood. Thirty-three was also Christ’s age when he ‘died’, a death which Rose Croix Masons re-enact in their 31st degree ritual.

To me such hocus-pocus meant nothing. I was just saddened by his death.

More than 20 years after The Brotherhood was first published, new readers may ask several questions. What is the book’s legacy? Has it had a lasting impact on public perceptions of Freemasonry? Has it affected Freemasonry itself?

The importance of The Brotherhood lies not so much in its revelations but in the fact that it brought Freemasonry back into public debate after a century when it had scarcely been discussed. This was not the fault of Freemasons alone. It lay as much with self-censorship by writers, editors and (latterly) radio and TV producers, who, if not Freemasons themselves, may have been scared stiff of retribution from Freemasons above and around them. For generations the brotherhood was spoken of rarely in public, and even then in whispers by bitter men who felt the brotherhood had ruined or victimized them, or by lonely wives wondering if that little case their husbands left home with once a month really did mean he was going to a lodge meeting or if it was just cover for a night out with another woman. The rest was silence.

The Brotherhood shattered that silence but Stephen wasn’t the only person throwing stones at Masonic temples at the time. At last a few newspapers and TV programmes were mocking the institution or raising allegations of corruption. When the book turned into a surprise bestseller, Stephen was invited on phone-in talk shows and defended his book against all-comers. He did well despite his faltering speech brought on by his illness and treatment.

I spent much of the years 1982 to 1984 in the USA, researching and producing a vast TV documentary series on an equally fascinating secret society, the Mafia or La Cosa Nostra, with which Freemasonry shares many characteristics. When Stephen died, I felt privileged to be asked to write a sequel to The Brotherhood. I based my book partly on a stack of 500 letters which had been sent to Stephen’s publisher and his steadfast agent, Andrew Hewson. Many came from disillusioned Freemasons, willing to act as informants or ‘whistle-blowers’ (as we now call purveyors of inside information). I called my book Inside the Brotherhood because it was based partly on what these renegade brothers were telling me. I also read a vast amount of Masonic literature which revealed many of the ludicrous, lunatic claims that the brotherhood has made for itself over the past 300 years. I added a lot of hard evidence from recent court cases that confirmed Masonic corruption in public life - notably among police detectives and especially in Scotland Yard’s elite units such as the Flying Squad and the Obscene Publications Squad.

Naturally I recommend readers of The Brotherhood to read the sequel which also became a best-seller, spending many weeks in the Sunday Times non-fiction charts. It even reached number one in Ireland where the Catholic majority opposes Freemasonry but where Masonic lodges survive, remnants of the old Protestant ascendancy. The book stirred up further controversy. In 1989 it was the basis for a documentary series which I produced and narrated. This went out at peak-time on ITV, then Britain’s most watched station.

By now there was hardly anyone in the country who did not know something about Freemasonry and its secret rituals, which we had enacted with the help of renegades. We also exposed the crimes and rackets of other Freemasons. The order perpetually claims it is the victim of conspiracy theories but refuses to admit that its own oaths of ‘mutual defence and support’ and its cell-like structure are ideal for concocting, perpetrating and covering up conspiratorial acts.

In the early 1990s the brotherhood struck back, in print at least. Suddenly books appeared, written by Freemasons who were breaking their sworn oath not to reveal the order’s secrets but seemed to have the go-ahead to do so. Their books were supportive of Freemasonry and extolled the less reprehensible side of its history.

In the meantime the United Grand Lodge of England, along with its parallel grand lodges in Scotland and Ireland, tried to give an impression of greater transparency, opening their temples to the public and stressing their generosity to non-Masonic charities, but at no point have they disclosed or performed their rituals to the public: no show of ropes or cabletows around necks, no daggers or poignards to the heart, no blindfolds or hoodwinks, no rolled-up trouser legs and no resurrection routines. So no real openness.

Despite these gestures, concern was growing that Freemasonry still had the covert malign influence exposed in our Brotherhood books and elsewhere. Many local authorities were now obliging elected councillors and full-time employees to fill in forms stating if they were Freemasons. Cries of discrimination were over-ruled or neutralized by requiring that the form-fillers declare membership of any other secret or would-be secret societies.

In 1996, for the first time in its history, Freemasonry was scrutinised by the highest authority in Britain: Parliament. The prime mover was Chris Mullin MP, the former investigative journalist renowned for his work on the miscarriage of justice done to the Birmingham Six (six men wrongly imprisoned for 16 years for the 1974 IRA bombing of two Birmingham pubs that killed 21 people).

Taking on this task was the Home Affairs Committee of the House of Commons, of which Chris was then deputy chairman. A cross-party outfit, its chairman was the Conservative MP, Sir Ivan Lawrence. They agreed that the time had come to put the brotherhood under the microscope, and decided to focus on ‘Freemasonry in the Police and the Judiciary’. It fell to me to be the opening witness.

On Wednesday 18 December 1996 I was questioned for two hours by eleven Committee members. Ten were men. Eight said they were not Freemasons. One was a Freemason but said he had not attended any lodge for over 20 years.

The Committee’s official report shows that I answered 144 questions. It was a demanding experience though not unpleasant, the examination benign but rigorous and robust. I had only a few sharp words with one member - not the Freemason. Overall I felt the Committee was making a genuine effort to gather information, as impartially as possible, about the brotherhood’s influence not just in the police and judiciary but in British society as a whole.

In eight more hearings spread over two months, the Committee examined 14 further witnesses including the Lord Chancellor (Lord Mackay of Clashfern) and representatives of the Association of Chief Police Officers, other police organizations, the Magistrates Association and the Law Society. The Committee’s report prints the entire hearings and a welter of correspondence from other people with a personal or professional interest. Spokespersons for public institutions and professional bodies tended to give a know-nothing yet ‘best of all possible worlds’ response to the suggestion that Freemasonry was prevalent or powerful among their workforces or memberships, but other contributors gave accounts that wholly supported the negative views that Stephen Knight and I had voiced years before.

I strongly recommend that anyone who wishes to plunge deeper into this morass reads the entire report. It contains the testimony of the two final witnesses, the then Grand Secretary of the United Grand Lodge of England, Commander Michael Higham RN, and its librarian, John Hamill.

Their session was far more peppery than mine, for they were confronted by tricky questions about specific cases of wrongdoing that I had raised in my evidence. In particular Commander Higham did his best to rebut allegations that other Freemasons had committed misconduct so gross that, if true, amounted to a conspiracy to pervert the course of justice.

Here is an edited extract from my submission on what I called, ‘A Quintessential Masonic Scandal’ that proved ‘the Craft is still able to play a debilitating role in Britain’s police - to the detriment of innocent citizens who are not Masons and at a grotesque cost to public funds’:

In 1988 a Leicester store owner and his adult son were staying at a hotel in Blackburn. Before going to bed they felt like a drink but it was now around midnight and the main bar was closed. However, on the ground floor they discovered a cash bar was still serving drinks, so they bought two pints of bitter and stayed by the bar.

At this point several burly men in dinner jackets told them they had no right to be drinking there and ordered them out. The father and son had no idea what had provoked this outburst but they said they would just drink up and go. The other men said that if they did not leave immediately, they would call the police. The father responded, ‘Then call the police!’, to which some of the men responded, ‘We are the police!’, pulled out what they claimed were warrant cards and quickly proceeded to beat and kick the daylights out of them.

Neither visitor weighed much over ten stone, whereas two of their assailants each weighed at least fifteen stone. The four men who later claimed they had been restraining the father from chucking one of them over a balcony weighed a total of 54 stone. The father was convinced they were trying to throw him over the balcony.

The pair were shocked to discover that they were arrested, not their assailants. They were taken to Blackburn’s central police station, charged with actual bodily harm and assaulting police officers, and kept in the cells overnight. The following morning they were freed on bail and allowed to return to the hotel, only to discover their rooms had been cleared and all their property seized. The management said it was refusing to release the property until they had paid £500 for the damage they had allegedly caused to the hotel and to two of their assailants.

They agreed to pay £180 just to get their keys and property, then, battered and dishevelled, they made their way to the car park. When they got there they saw that their car had been entered by key, its contents disturbed, its hubcaps removed and all its tyres deflated. After spending hours inflating their tyres with no help from the hotel, they drove back to Leicester to notify their solicitors, get urgent medical attention, and get their widespread injuries photographed and recorded. These proved to be severe.

It was months before their solicitors received a bundle of witness statements from Lancashire telling an unrelenting account of how, without provocation, the pair had viciously attacked half a dozen men, including the hotel manager, merely because they had been asked to leave a private function. The father and son knew the entire case was a farrago of lies. Even so, it constituted a very serious case which, if it were to succeed, could put them in jail for eighteen months.

Their solicitors were bemused not only by stark contradictions in the evidence but by the fact that, even at committal, none of the statements named the function which the witnesses had been attending. Such an omission was extraordinary, especially as the alleged cause of the affray was the visitors’ violent refusal to leave the function. It took six months before the CPS’s Burnley office disgorged the information that it had been a Masonic affair ‘organized by wives of some of the members’.

When the case came to court in February 1989 the prosecution evidence repeatedly caused the jury to laugh out loud. The witnesses contradicted themselves, and each other, about where they were when they saw what, and they wholly failed to explain how two slight and weak men could have inflicted so many injuries on so many huge and fit physiques. What is more, all the injuries alleged by the Victims’ were medically unproved. One who had been threatening to sue the father and son for losing an eye came up with nothing better than a hospital casualty report written several hours after the affray, saying he had a slight abrasion of his eye but still had perfect vision.

The prosecution conceded that almost all the ‘victims’ were police officers (most still serving) and that the lodge to which they all belonged was essentially a police lodge: the Victory. The function was indeed a private ‘Ladies’ Night’, but there were no signs to that effect at the entrance to the function room, so how could the visitors have been expected to know? The investigating police officer had made no attempt to find anyone who might support the visitors’ account. Only during his cross-examination did it emerge that this officer was himself a Mason. So was the hotel manager who was a member of the same Victory Lodge. The jury rejected the idea that the two skinny Leicester men, who had demonstrably suffered severe beatings, had attacked so many huge policemen. It found the father and son not guilty. The verdict’s obvious implication was that their Masonic accusers had been lying and should have been in the dock instead: for perjury and conspiracy, as well as GBH. The judge awarded costs to the defendants.

While they tried to recover from this ordeal, their solicitors began to seek civil redress against seven individual Victory Lodge members, the hotel group and the Chief Constable of Lancashire. Their final statement of claim would allege wrongful arrest, assault, malicious prosecution, conspiracy to injure and libel.

As they developed the case for damages, they naturally looked for assistance to an investigation which had been carried out by the Police Complaints Authority. For years they had no idea what it had found out, but eventually got wind of testimony the PCA had gathered from the hotel’s night porter which wholly supported the father and son’s account. Despite its clear and fundamental relevance to the civil case, the PCA stubbornly refused to part with it or to divulge the porter’s whereabouts. It also cited ‘public interest immunity’. When the civil judge considered this argument, he threw it out. But this was in 1995, five years after the PCA inquiry had interviewed the porter.

During those five years the solicitors had pursued every route to gather evidence to support their case, so not having had early access to the porter had cost them tens of thousands of pounds in wasted time and effort. Back in 1989 their private detective had discovered a woman who had also been on the staff and saw the entire affair. She also confirmed the victims’ account of unprovoked assault by members of Victory Lodge, but was said to be too scared to get involved.

The action was eventually settled out of court. The father and son received a total of some £170,000, the bulk of which was paid not by the Masons themselves but by the Chief Constable of Lancashire on the technical grounds that, when they were perpetrating their assault and falsely accusing their victims of assaulting them, they had been acting as police officers - rather than as Masons!

In my view it is outrageous that the public should be expected to pay anything towards righting what appears to be a thoroughly Masonic wrong, and that, until now, the citizens of Lancashire have not even been made aware of the decision.

Grand Secretary Higham defended the conduct of the Victory Lodge, its members and guests. The Director of Public Prosecutions, Barbara Mills, and the Lancashire Constabulary also chose to defend the role of their respective organizations in writing. This obliged me to refute each of their contributions. If you are gripped by the story so far, you will find the exchanges gripping too.

In March 1997 the Committee published its conclusions.

These dwelt at length on the Blackburn Victory Lodge case and appended the entire correspondence. Its dilemma over that scandal was typical of the conclusions as a whole: so hedged and ditched that it is impossible to shorten for the sake of easy reading:

Whilst accepting that it is difficult to establish direct lines of Masonic influence through common membership of lodges, it is even more difficult to establish the nature of connections between individuals, who, whether or not they were Freemasons, and/or present at a particular function, may have known each other anyway and whilst not directly involved may still have had a bearing on the conduct of the investigation or the prosecution. However, it can be established from this account that a perception of secrecy spawned a number of allegations and that may or may not prove to have been unfounded. If membership of the Freemasons were more openly known, and lists of lodges were publicly available, it would have facilitated any attempt to unravel any suspected Masonic network or enabled any suspicions to be allayed before they had taken root.

Overall the Committee concluded:

There is a large number of Freemasons within the criminal justice system, but the numbers themselves give no general cause for concern…

Where it is not entirely groundless, most or all of the evidence alleging Masonic corruption in the field of policing is largely circumstantial, in the sense that it involves assuming that steps taken by individuals who were Freemasons, in respect of others who were also Freemasons, were taken because both individuals were Freemasons rather than because the individuals knew each other or for some other reason …

There is a widespread public perception that Freemasonry can have an unhealthy influence on the criminal justice system, and we certainly believe that one of the main reasons for free-masonry’s poor public image is a perception that it is a secret society …

The Committee’s most important conclusion was reserved till the end:

We recommend that police officers, magistrates, judges, and crown court prosecutors should be required to register membership of any secret society and that the record should be available publicly. However, it is our firm belief that the better solution lies in the hand of Freemasonry itself. By openness and disclosure, all suspicion would be removed, and we would welcome the taking of such steps by the United Grand Lodge.

It is now ten years since these conclusions were reached. I’m sorry to have to say that while the United Grand Lodge has gone some way to improving its image (hiring an affable and effective public relations consultant who is not a Freemason), Parliament has notably failed to act as recommended.

There is still no national requirement that policemen, judges or prosecutors register membership of Freemasonry. Some police forces have set up arrangements so that officers can make a private declaration. Magistrates do have to declare Masonic membership. Judges are offered a similar opportunity but nothing is compulsory and not even their voluntary disclosures are made available to the public.

In short, almost all the MPs’ recommendations have been sidelined, ignored, blocked or just forgotten. In many ways a benchmark for how parliamentary committees should investigate issues of public concern, their findings deserve a better fate. It will probably take another sensational expose of Masonic criminality before those findings are resurrected.

If that ever happens, it will be due in no small measure to the pioneering work of Stephen Knight.

Martin Short

January 2007