On the trail of my dad, the runaway MI6 agent
One summer day in 1958 John Bryan Wood announced to his wife, who was sitting in the garden with their new baby, that he was nipping out for a loaf of bread. But instead of walking into nearby Woking in search of supplies, Wood drove to Southampton and boarded the RMS Homeric, bound for Canada. With him he took his wife's passport (so she couldn't follow) and their three-year-old son, Jonathan. What was doubly odd was that, far from being a devoted dad, Wood spent most of his life disowning his many offspring, passing them off as nephews, nieces or step-children. In another way, though, this reckless behaviour was entirely typical of 'JBW', as he was always known. It wasn't just the string of wives
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The Guardian
13 hours ago
- The Guardian
‘Absolutely shocking': Netflix documentary examines how the Titan sub disaster happened
If you were sentient in the summer of 2023, you probably remember the feverish speculation, vicarious horror, snap consternation and armchair sleuthing after the disappearance of the submersible called Titan during a commercial voyage to the wreck of the Titanic. The Titan sub disaster was inescapable for weeks as the story evolved from critical rescue mission – the best-case scenario being a mechanical failure deep in the North Atlantic with 96 hours of oxygen for the five passengers, which you better believe became a countdown clock on cable news – to tragic recovery operation. The sub, it turned out, had imploded at 3,300 meters beneath the surface, 90 minutes into a dive that was supposed to reach 3,800 meters deep. All five passengers – British explorer Hamish Harding, British-Pakistani businessman Shahzada Dawood and his 19-year-old son Suleman, French diver Paul-Henri Nargeolet and submersible owner Stockton Rush – were killed instantly. Even as the search for the sub, whose wreckage was eventually returned to land, continued in earnest, concerning reports about the safety record at OceanGate, the company which operated the vehicle, began to emerge: that a whistleblower had declared implosion of the sub's trademark carbon fiber hull a mathematical certainty years earlier. That Rush, the company's founder and CEO, pursued commercial voyages anyway, eluding any type of third-party certification. For the majority of the public, the story ended along those lines: a preventable tragedy, another sin of human hubris at arguably the most famous shrine to the folly of human hubris in history. That is not wrong; according to the new Netflix documentary Titan: The OceanGate Disaster, the sub's implosion was virtually guaranteed by its design. 'I'm convinced, based on the research and the discussions that I've had, that the submersible Titan could have imploded at any time,' said the film's director, Mark Monroe. In fact, it was 'absolutely shocking' that Titan made as many successful dives – 80 attempts, 13 to Titanic depth, between 2021 and 2022 – as it did. But for those who either worked at OceanGate, were tasked with the investigation or loved someone lost on board, the story is much more complicated, and concerning, than a design flaw. Another film would proceed through an exact timeline of Titan's final mission on 18 June, 2023; include footage of the wreckage or diagrams of its descent coordinated to text messages sent to its surface-level team; play the audio of its implosion, recorded 900 miles away by a National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration device; or allow viewers to see Rush's wife Wendy hear the implosion, whose sound reached its support ship, Polar Prince, before their last text message, allowing them to mistakenly assume the sub was fine. The Netflix film, made by the veteran production company Story Syndicate, doesn't do any of that, eschewing a Seconds from Disaster-type narrative and instead focusing on the nearly decade-long procession toward disaster, through numerous decisions prizing flashy ambition over safety. 'It's scarier, in a way, to understand the decision-making over the 10-year period that led to that moment,' said Monroe. 'I feel pretty strongly if the civilians' – the paying customers OceanGate called 'mission specialists' to skirt around commercial maritime safety regulations – 'had seen the decisions made along the way, they would have been a lot more reticent to get into that submersible. And I think that was not clear, or made clear, to the public.' With access to company footage, data, files and several former employees and whistleblowers, the 111-minute documentary paints a fuller picture of a company with idealistic ambition and plenty of scientific backing – at least at first. Founded outside Seattle in 2009 by Rush, an entrepreneur with a rich family and an engineering degree, OceanGate attracted talent from the fields of engineering, diving and marine exploration with its ambition to revolutionize deep sea travel for the masses. The question of how to make deep subs, usually made of very heavy titanium steel, lighter and nimbler – and thus commercially viable – was an appealing puzzle to an array of scientists, deep-sea divers and exploration enthusiasts. It's what drew David Lochridge, a highly experienced submersible pilot, to uproot his family and move to Everett, Washington, to become OceanGate's operations director. In the film, Lochridge explains that he didn't initially understand, on a technical level, OceanGate's answer to the lightweight, deep-sea sub conundrum: carbon fiber, a lightweight but high-strength composite material of tightly pack carbon threads cemented with resin, used in everything from sports cars to deluxe skis. But in time, the material's problems became clear. For one, carbon fiber had never been tested at extreme depths, and thus had no reliable safety record. And two, its integrity naturally degrades with repeated use. 'There is a fatigue aspect to carbon fiber – once you use it, it won't be as good the next time you use it, by increments,' Monroe explained. The documentary includes ample footage from OceanGate's years-long test phase, as various carbon fiber designs failed in experiments simulating high pressure. Nevertheless, Rush persisted, dismissing safety concerns from engineers on staff and continuing to insist to credulous media that commercial ventures to the Titanic were soon within reach. Lochridge and others attest to Rush's hardheaded approach, at times openly hostile to any intra-company dissent. He openly admired Jeff Bezos and Elon Musk, expressing a desire to, as one employee recalled, be a 'big swinging dick'. In that vein, Rush claimed to be working with Boeing, Nasa and the University of Washington, though no formal partnerships existed. (In fact, a Boeing engineer involved in Titan's early designs emailed Rush in March 2012: 'We think you are at high risk of a significant failure at or before you reach 4,000 meters. We do not think you have any safety margin.') Rush also elected to withhold any OceanGate craft from third-party safety inspections, the industry standard for submersibles. That decision proved to be a breaking point for several employees; Lochridge was fired after he inspected Titan himself, and said in a written report to Rush that he had no confidence in the submersible. The documentary includes remarkable audio of a 2018 senior staff meeting in which Rush fires Lochridge and quashes his concerns as a discrepancy of vision – 'I don't want anybody in this company who is uncomfortable with what we're doing. We're doing weird shit here and I am definitely out of the mold. There's no question. I am doing things that are completely non-standard.' 'There is a danger in the kind of cult of personality, particularly the tech bro, 'move fast and break things,'' Monroe said. 'When other people's lives are in the balance, I think we should all take a step back and be careful about that. It's one thing to put unmanned spacecraft into space, but you're taking money to provide an expedition.' One has to wonder, given all the dissent, given the fact that the sub would produce loud cracking sounds with each descent (which Rush called, unscientifically, the carbon fiber 'seasoning' with use) – did the CEO actually believe it was safe? 'I'm not in Stockton's mind, so I don't know,' said Monroe. But he took into account Rush's public personality as a maverick, the media tailwinds in his favor. 'When you say you're going to go to Titanic in a new submersible that no one's ever done before, and the sound of your own voice resonates year after year while you're trying to figure out how to do it, I think there's a pressure that builds, that suggests 'I have to do this.'' What is clear, from numerous interviews, was that 'if you went against the boss, there were going to be repercussions.' Lochridge knows this well; after he filed a whistleblower complaint with the US Occupational Safety and Health Administration (Osha), OceanGate sued him for improperly disclosing confidential information to regulators. The legal costs, and Osha's protracted investigation, forced him to withdraw his complaint, ending what could have been the one regulatory oversight on the company. OceanGate continued apace; the film lingers only briefly on the dive in 2022 which seemed to damage the sub, even according to the company's own 'real-time monitoring system'. Titan imploded on its next dive to Titanic depths a year later, after several aborted attempts due to inclement weather. Though the 'delamination' of the carbon fiber hull is the presumed cause, the US Coast Guard's official written report, including recommendations for the prevention of a similar tragedy, has yet to be publicly released. 'I don't know what those recommendations could be,' said Monroe, 'but you would think they would have to do with how to run an experimental submersible when offering it to the public.' Such as, perhaps, oversight, or a healthier sense of skepticism when the only safety assurances come from the company itself. Rush 'believed in the ethos of move fast and break things. Rules don't apply when you want to change the way things work,' said Monroe. 'That's dangerous when other people's lives are at stake. There are certain rules that do apply, like the rules of physics, the rules of science – these rules do apply to all of us.' Titan: The OceanGate Disaster is now available on Netflix
BBC News
20 hours ago
- BBC News
Fire fears force more residents from Southampton marina flats
People living in a further two apartment blocks at a marina development are being asked to move out of their homes after fire safety concerns were living in the Mistral and Sirocco buildings at Admirals Quay on Southampton's Ocean Village on Channel Way are being asked to leave in stages over the next two firm, Barratt Redrow, said an issue with the fire protection of the steel frame in the blocks needed to be investigated and February, those living in the 40 flats at Sundowner Court, overlooking the marina, had to leave within hours of getting an evacuation letter from their management firm after fire safety concerns were also found during checks. There are 114 apartments in Sirocco and 62 in Mistral. Residents at Sirocco have been asked to move out first by 22 June, and those living in Mistral by 29 Redrow said a phased move out - rather than immediately - was possible as round-the-clock fire patrols known as a 'waking watch' were in place at the for the disruption, a Barratt Redrow spokesperson said: "We are working closely with the managing agent to support residents and provide alternative accommodation, at no cost to them, and are working hard to ensure the buildings are remediated as quickly as possible."It comes after an inspection at neighbouring block, Sundowner Court, found the block's steel structure was not who carried out the survey told the building's management company that, in the event of a serious fire, it would have been in danger of collapse. Hampshire & Isle of Wight Fire & Rescue Service said: "Following fire safety issues previously identified at Sundowner Court, additional intrusive surveys were carried out on neighbouring blocks."These have highlighted similar risks to resident safety in the event of a fire within the Sirocco, Mistral and Ranger buildings."In response we have met with Barratt Redrow to review the findings and proposed mitigation measures."The fire service said while those in Sirocco and Mistral were being moved out, residents of Ranger, a low-rise block, will be allowed to remain with the additional waking watch in fire service said: "We understand this situation will cause significant disruption, but in cases like these our primary concern is always the safety and wellbeing of those living in these properties." You can follow BBC Hampshire & Isle of Wight on Facebook, X (Twitter), or Instagram.
Telegraph
a day ago
- Telegraph
I was brainwashed into wearing a hijab. But Britain mustn't introduce a burka ban
I can still recall the first tentative day that I stepped outside my home not wearing my usual hijab but with my own pixie-cut hair on display and a breeze on my ears – a completely new feeling to me. This was six years ago when I was 31 and studying for a master's degree in philosophy at the Simon Fraser University in Vancouver, Canada. At the time I was married with a three-year-old son. I had worn the hijab since the age of nine, and had always felt it was part of the package of being a Muslim, but in recent years I had begun to have doubts. Islam has a set of rules which cover various aspects of Muslim life, from religious practices to personal matters. I had always been curious about these laws, and had previously completed a master's degree in Islamic studies. Why I stopped wearing the hijab But the more I learnt the more I felt that the methodology of Islamic jurisprudence (the theory and philosophy of its rules) was problematic for women. I couldn't help seeing the laws, including wearing mandatory hijab, as essentially misogynistic. Wearing a hijab was also not common in Vancouver, which made me stand out considerably. For the first time I experienced what it truly meant to be a visible minority and it took a heavy toll on my mental health. One day, my son kept refusing to take my hand as we boarded the bus. The tired driver, concerned about safety, snapped at me that I needed parenting advice. I was deeply upset, but then found myself wondering if such a minor incident would have affected me so deeply if I hadn't been wearing a hijab? I questioned myself. As much as I love Islamic spirituality, did I really want to carry its 'flag' when I no longer believed that flag represented something good? It was a few days later that I wrote a post on social media, relaying this incident to my friends and colleagues and explaining that while I was still explicitly Muslim, I would no longer wear the hijab. The next day, when I walked into the university, I had mixed emotions of uncertainty, excitement and freedom. There were a few awkward encounters with colleagues who didn't recognise me. But most people were understanding, and I have not worn the hijab since. Banning the burka The decision was a key moment for my Muslim identity. For it seems being a Muslim woman today is tiresomely linked to wearing a hijab or burka. There is always a great debate. Should you cover your hair? Your face? Are these items symbols of oppression or merely an expression of faith? Oh, and we know how these topics fire up the public imagination. Sparks flew just recently in the House of Commons when Sarah Pochin, the Reform UK MP for Runcorn and Helsby, called on Sir Keir Starmer to 'ban the burka'. 'Will he,' she asked from the back benches. 'In the interest of public safety, follow the lead of France, Belgium, Denmark and others and ban the burka?' Thankfully, the question got rebuffed by both the Prime Minister and Pochin's Reform UK colleagues, who said it was not their policy. But it still left me – now a post-doctoral researcher at the University of Manchester – feeling sad and threatened. I worried I might have been wrong in my perception of Britain as a liberal and tolerant place for different religions. Mainly what I struggle with, however – whenever the issue flares up in Parliament – is how on earth politicians think they can prescribe to women how to deal with such a complex and personal issue. For in my case alone, my perception of being a Muslim has changed considerably over time – and I am only 37. I grew up in Iran's capital, Tehran, a super-crowded city that was beautiful to me in many ways. I was surrounded by a loving, happy family, who were religious, but me especially so. As a child, I donned the hijab (the burka isn't big in Iran), and began fasting and praying. I came to love the three elements of Islam: the spirituality, the practising, and the community. And because I was an anxious child, I found an incomparable comfort from reading passages from the Koran and common prayers, while the rituals and rules calmed my busy mind and gave me a sense of satisfaction. I also benefited from the Muslim community that was shaped around anti-imperialist political ideas in Iran. 'Misogynistic essence' of Islamic laws I studied a chemical engineering degree at Sharif University in Tehran, but then – like so many of my educated friends – got married at 22 and moved to London (we had an almost semi-arranged marriage and are now divorced), and it was here that I first encountered the diversity of religious life. Unlike in Iran, I began to see that being religious could go with all types of lifestyles, and it gave me a new perception of how I could live. When we moved to Vancouver in 2017 (I wanted to study in America but Trump had banned Iranians from entering the US), I still wore my hijab. But my dislike for the misogynistic essence of Islamic laws which shaped the culture of my community began to grow. Politically I was also changing. I came to see the scale of crime and deception from the Islamic Republic in Iran, and I came to detest its version of anti-imperialism and its suppression of women. I did not want to give up on my spirituality but I began to refine my version of being Muslim, starting with removing the hijab. When I moved back to London in 2020, to begin a PhD in philosophy at the London School of Economics, my own beliefs were strengthened by those I met. In the prayer room at the university, for instance, I was very pleased to find Muslims like me with no hair covering befriending women in the full burka, and bonding over their common interest in Islam's spirituality. 'I understand why some find it offensive' Now – six years on since I first removed my hair covering – I feel psychologically better. I have begun to think that although I had a happy childhood, I was perhaps brainwashed in some respects and probably missed out on exploring my feminine side and having a diverse social life. Now, I have chosen a version of being Muslim that is true to me, and to some extent I think I have inspired my own friends to do the same. As for the draining debate about the burka, I believe Muslim women wear it for all sorts of reasons. They may think it is part of a package of rules which is meant to strengthen their willpower and bring about a special type of spirituality. While I may think the rule is misogynistic, it does not imply that those who observe it are misogynists. But I also understand why some find it very offensive or dangerous. It is natural, perhaps evolutionary, to want to see someone's face in order to connect. And obviously, wearing a burka highlights that the person is an immigrant, and we know many in the UK do not like immigration. Still, the decision to wear a burka or not must be decided by the women themselves. It is very paternalistic for a government to decide how a person might practise their religion. Also, should it be banned, the Muslim community would be enraged. This is what happened in Iran in 1936 (before the Islamic Republic took over in 1978). The Shah Reza Khan Pahlavi banned head coverings in a bid to modernise the country. But that violation has remained in people's memories for generations. Despite the current hatred towards the Islamic Republic and mandatory hijab, people still rage for having their choice taken away. You have to remember, a ban does not just affect the one person wearing the burka. A large circle around that person will feel violated, regardless of whether they are Muslim or not. Also, even discussing such a ban can, I fear, cause a rise in Islamophobia. If you have a hidden tendency towards Islamophobia, and something public like this happens, it may only embolden you. Hopefully, however, nothing like this will happen. I have always felt there is something special about Britain – in how it treats Muslims and religions in general, and in how diverse and liberal it is in this regard. I really hope it stays that way.
