My former colleague Jon Tinker, who has died aged 83, was involved in the 1960s in Spies for Peace, a British group of anti-war activists. In 1963 they photographed and published top-secret government plans for maintaining control after a nuclear attack.
Jon disclosed his role to me shortly before he died. He admitted he did not have the derring-do to take part in the break-in into one of the secret bunkers intended to govern the country in the event of nuclear war, but he relished the subsequent cloak-and-dagger operation to write the pamphlet and news release that the government unsuccessfully tried to suppress.
The group concealed their culpability by buying, using and destroying a second-hand typewriter and duplicating machine: “We drove for hours at night until we found a bridge over a river in the northern Chilterns and threw the incriminating evidence into the water.”
He was born in Huddersfield, West Yorkshire, the son of Dorothy (nee Duerden), a writer, and Rex Tinker, an accountant, and educated at Charterhouse school, Godalming, Surrey, and Peterhouse, Cambridge, graduating with a degree in natural and moral sciences.
Anti-war activity was one of two themes in Jon’s life: the other was natural history, which subsequently morphed into sustainable development. These twin interests took him from secretary to the Committee of 100, an anti-nuclear group, and private secretary to the philosopher and peace activist Bertrand Russell in 1960, to a career in environmental journalism and policy advice. He worked on various publications including the Countryman and New Scientist, and for the International Institute for Environment and Development.
In 1986 he co-founded and became director of the London-based Panos Institute, with the aim of providing well-researched information on issues affecting developing countries. It had offshoots in Paris, Washington and Budapest and informed and influenced hundreds of journalists in Africa and Asia. “But what you mustn’t do is prescribe what Country X should do about it,” said Jon. “Many non-governmental organisations don’t understand that.”
He had a knack for spotting and acting on important issues before others followed suit, whether the loss of hedges in Britain or HIV/Aids in the global south. Realising early on that HIV was not simply a concern for gay men in rich countries, he organised articles and books that influenced several governments and the United Nations to take action: “It was the most important thing I have done,” he told me.
He combined an indefatigable work ethic (when he lived in Wales he was always first to arrive at the London office) with a love of dogs, Scrabble and gardening, whether in Wales or Canada, where he lived on an old ranch for seven years from 1992.
When he knew he was dying from cancer he expressed anger about the loss of many hedgerow birds that he grew up with, such as the yellowhammer, and sadness that his grandchildren would not see them.
Jon was married twice, in 1963 to Mary Kirkwood, whom he met through the Committee of 100, and in 1971 to Sally Holmes. Both marriages ended in divorce. He is survived by his companion of 40 years, Marcus Charles, by two daughters, Zenzie and Sarah, from his first marriage, and two stepdaughters, Kate and Jane, from the second, seven grandchildren, Izzie, Kitty, Alfie, Ben, Joe, Albie and Charlie, and his brother, Tim, and sister, Prim.
