Paul Ritchie joined the Department of War Studies as a Visiting Fellow some eight years ago. This followed a long career at the Foreign and Commonwealth Office, where he rose to the rank of Director. His work earned him honours including the Most Distinguished Order of Saint Michael and Saint George (CMG) and the Most Excellent Order of the British Empire (OBE), and the respect of colleagues in the UK and abroad. During his time with us he entertained our students with lectures and workshops, insights and advice, commentary and support. He died in late October 2025.
A tall man – though perhaps he seemed taller than in reality he was, as charismatic men so often do – Paul moved through rooms and crowds smoothly, lightly. To see it was to see a man at ease, in his surroundings and his company, comfortable. But it was a rare sight to catch, in my experience, as he had the knack of somehow already being there. Waiting, generally with a warm greeting, though occasionally something of a stern frown – ‘now then, remind me, what have I agreed to do for you today'. But almost always with a twinkle in the eye. A feature that betrayed a mischievous, somewhat piratical nature, an innate quality carefully forged over the years, and by the time he joined us deeply ingrained. It’s one of the many reasons we and our students took to him.
Paul joined us at King’s late in his career. He had already spent over three decades in government service. Sometimes at home; but mainly abroad, here and there. Some softer postings, some harder. Each leaving its mark on him, and, no doubt, him on them. None more so perhaps than Afghanistan. It was a country he discussed with our students with endless enthusiasm. Debating the challenges of security, how it underlined the importance of developing relationships, and the spectacular beauty in amongst the mess. The country, the people, the sweat and blood spilled to create a better future with some security, engaged him. The tributes from those Afghans with whom he worked betray their mutual respect, one thanking him for ‘standing by friends when it mattered most'.
He often spoke of a desire to visit the Durand line, the ground where the British split the borderlands between Afghanistan and what was then British India, and is today Pakistan, when the situation calmed and it was safer. But as the years passed and the prospect of that remained frustratingly distant, he busied himself with many projects, bouncing, as was his way, from meeting to meeting, coffee to coffee. He contributed to our work at the Centre, to the Cyber Security Group, and many others, helping students with their work and colleagues with their ideas. Lately he was drawn to the past and the wartime adventures of the Special Operations Executive, delving into the National Archives, and drew from our experience as we had drawn from his. We spoke of history, change, and of great games. And when my little ones came along – ‘it’s the first eighteen years that are the hardest’ – our conversations frequently turned to his own, whom he talked about with humour, pride and love. Our thoughts are with them and his family. We thank him and will miss him.
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