The thesis proposed by Peter Walsh’s The Betrayer is that the “war on drugs” was a constructed media manipulation and a legitimate initiative intended to solve a sizable threat to the common good. The use of the word “war” would indicate that there was a boogeyman who could be taken down, which is why the operations in the UK and the United States were seen as catastrophic failures. The issues of rampant drug abuse in the 1990s, specifically among young and vulnerable people, can be attributed to an influx of illegal smuggling that couldn’t be solved by simple regulation. There was an offensive by criminal organizations to create an addiction culture, which had a parasitic effect on an entire generation. The issue wasn’t a lack of resources, but of participation; traditional law enforcement bodies weren’t equipped for the longstanding requirements of a thorough infiltration campaign.
Legends is a six-part drama series inspired by The Betrayer, which was itself based on a remarkable true story about a top-secret mission performed by Her Majesty’s Customs and Excise. Those best suited for identifying drug deals weren’t cops, but working class custom agents who’d been given remedial tasks. It was after the customs agent Don (Steve Coogan) is asked by the Home Secretary (Alex Jennings) to provide Margaret Thatcher’s government with a war that they “can win” in the twilight of her tenure that an idea’s formed to recruit various secretaries, security officers, and administrative staff to develop undercover identities. That the operation was done off-books and without any official mandates was both an advantage and liability; while they were unlikely to be detected as obvious rats, these newly-minted spies weren’t given protection from the potential blowback of compromised identities.
The title Legends is a reference to the word used to describe the alternate persona that these agents adopt when placed in the midst of criminal rings. Don says that “your legend has to come from you, or it won’t work,” because they don’t have time to train uninitiated secret agents to learn different languages or develop fictional histories. As a result, Don’s selection process involved choosing isolated, vaguely ambitious recruits whose disappearance wouldn’t likely be noticed. There’s acting involved in getting these men and women to pretend to be chummy with international dealers and gangsters, but it also has a dangerous side effect for those that get too deep into character. The title is ironic because there is nothing “legendary” about the work that they did; their involvement was kept under wraps by Her Majesty’s government for decades, and most will learn about this program’s existence for the first time because of the show.
The biggest issue with most streaming television shows is that they often take over a season to “get good,” which is why it's refreshing that Legends is overstuffed with information and activity. Halfway through the first episode, Don’s agents have already fallen in with Kurdish gangs who’ve been importing heroin from Pakistan. Thatcher’s cronies wanted a decisive victory that could be used to broadcast the success of her reign during a period of unpopularity. However, the heroes of Legends aren’t all sheepish loners who are working to win a public relations battle because there’s an emotional draw based on the lives lost. That their effort is based on sympathy for the victims, not hatred for the abusers, is why Legends is distinct among the year’s best espionage television.
It’s in the third episode that Legends is slowed to a halt to explore the downfall of a fresh-faced British Army recruit who became addicted to heroin during a return from tour. He doesn’t fit the profile of the average user; he was an educated veteran who first got introduced to the drug that would claim his life because he was trying to impress a girl at a party, and never suffered from the post-traumatic stress disorder that affected many of his brothers-in-arms. Since the British Army is prone to cover up any signs of disenfranchisement among their ranks, the issue becomes a silent epidemic that is only identified when it has already become a massacre. Legends frequently makes the choice to use individual stories to paint a portrait of a nation in crisis. While it’s never suggested that the “legends” will change the course of history, their willingness to risk life and limb for the sake of yielded drug habituation is better than doing nothing.
Coogan’s an interesting choice for the role of a senior, mid-level spymaster who is frequently at odds with Thatcher’s bureaucrats. He’s been a staple of British comedy for decades because his characters have always been affable and lacking in celebrity, which is why Don doesn’t feel like another empty suit. However, the most interesting performance in the series is from Tom Burke, an underrated actor who’s quietly amassed an incredible track record with The Souvenir, Black Bag, Furiosa, and a number of British TV dramas. Burke’s character, Guy, isn’t apprehensive about the forging of a new identity because he’s felt unsatisfied by a life of unrewarding labor. Don’s quick to identify Guy as someone with strong motivation, but his decision to saddle him with additional responsibilities is short-sighted; Guy is especially motivated because he has a family, which makes him more vulnerable.
Legends’ greatest asset is the curiosity it has about the immediate impact of the endeavor, even if it’s skeptical about the longstanding repercussions. The Thatcher government claimed victory for Don’s successful thwart of an impending shipment of seized heroin, but it’s not clear if this decreased the number of drug-related deaths in the country; it notified criminals that the government was on to them, even if subsequent administrations didn’t further pursue the same goals. The less cynical read, which seems to be Forsyth’s, is that the common man has the autonomy to improve the circumstances for himself and others, and doesn’t need justification to do the right thing. That these “Legends” went unrecognized may be disrespectful, but adoration was never their goal.