The Guardian Interview - Stefan Cross
The Guardian newspaper ran a major article about Stefan Cross on Saturday - the piece written by Simon Hattenstone - can be read online at - http://www.guardian.co.uk/
"Stefan Cross has just won yet another huge payout for low-paid women – in Birmingham this time. Councils despise him. But why are unions also at war with the activist fighting for gender pay equality?
Stefan Cross says his background gave him a passion for the underdog – his mother was a cleaner and his father struggled to hold down a job; the family were constantly moving to avoid debts.
It looked like a great day for women, trade unions, public-sector workers, idealistic lawyers, the whole kaboodle. In short, a great day for justice. Everybody seemed to have won when it was announced this week that 4,000 women in Birmingham would be compensated for a pay and grading structure that had discriminated against them for decades. The reality was somewhat different. As the trade unions claimed victory for themselves and the lawyers claimed victory for themselves, this could not have been less of a celebration of solidarity.
Perhaps it's fitting that this story has reached its finale now at the sunset of the New Labour years. It all started back in 1997 with Tony Blair and the promise of a new kind of fairness. The government agreed to introduce a pay structure for council workers that would eradicate the white collar/blue collar divide. The single status agreement was supposed to guarantee equality by creating a comparative system. So, for example, those on the same grade (care assistants and binmen, say) should be paid the same. It was bound to expose inequalities, but nobody knew at the time the extent of them. What it revealed was an appalling system of trade union/employer protectionism and discrimination – not so much jobs for the boys as bonuses for the boys. In the male-dominated industries, the men were by and large paid bonuses for everything from productivity to turning up for work. In the female industries (cleaning, caring, admin) these bonuses were by and large unheard of. Which meant that with overtime and bonuses some men were earning more than £50,000, while women on the same level earned £12,000.
It was bound to be a fiscal and ethical nightmare for all those taxed with ensuring a new fairness. Local councils orcentral government would be landed with huge compensation bills, trade unions would have to divert much of their time and money to fighting equality cases. There was a tremendous incentive for all involved to compromise. Which is what happened. In most cases, trade unions quietly negotiated a settlement with councils. The councils got off lightly, the unions got the chance to focus on other important issues, and the women were compensated. So everybody was happy.
Then along came lawyer Stefan Cross. He had already won equality cases for Cleveland dinner ladies while working for trade unions in the 1990s. But now it was a new millennium and he had his own company. He took out adverts in local papers inviting women to meetings where he told them they had been screwed by their employers and trade unions. For many women the fact that they were underpaid was news. The unions had, understandably, not shouted out about the discriminatory bonuses – after all they had negotiated them in the first place. Cross told them that he could win far bigger payouts than they would receive from union-council settlements. Of course, he would charge them – 25% of winnings initially, later reduced to 10% plus VAT – but he said they would still be better off with him. And that's when the whole thing exploded.
Since 2004 more than 1,000 Middlesbrough council workers have won over £10m in payouts. In 2007, it was revealed that Scotland's 32 authorities had paid out £117m in equality compensation – some won by trade unions, some by Cross. And this week huge figures have been thrown up like so much confetti after Cross's biggest victory. While trade unions suggested the Birmingham payouts might run to a modest £30m, Cross has suggested that the figure for those 4,000 cases already heard could run to £600m. And he estimates the final payout could be four times as much. Stories have emerged this week saying that, if he continues like this, this Porsche-driving ambulance-chaser Stefan Cross could singlehandedly bankrupt the country's local authorities.
He laughs at the suggestion. Rubbish, he says. "Anyway, I don't drive a Porsche." He's on the road as we speak. "I swapped it for a Ferrari. It's what I do the school run in." The number plate is perfectly personalised CRO5S ST (surname and initials).
Cross is 49 and has four children. He grew up in Surrey and Hampshire and says he was the first one in his family to get decent O-levels, never mind go to university. His mother was a cleaner, his father worked as an ice-cream man, postman, bus conductor, but couldn't hold a job down. The family were always on the move, running away from his father's debts. Cross says his background gave him the passion he has today for the underdog. He was a teenage trade union activist, and after university worked for the union solicitors Thompsons. After 16 years there he decided the unions were not fighting as hard as they could be for their members.
"The number one priority was to protect the pay of those who were already getting the higher pay; the men essentially. A study done in 1999 by local government showed that 80% of men's jobs were getting bonuses while only 1.2% of women's jobs were." He squeals in fury. "What's more shocking is that the unions and the employers already knew. There was a report in 1997 saying these bonuses were discriminatory."
In 2005 some of his clients in Middlesbrough took their union, the GMB, to court, and won – the Allen v GMB tribunal held that the GMB indirectly discriminated against female members by focusing on pay protection for men than on back-pay for women. The tribunal said that the GMB failed to explain to female members that the deal on offer was substantially less than they were likely to receive if they were successful before an employment tribunal, and that they were being asked to accept a smaller figure so that funds could be used to protect the pay of losers in the job evaluation scheme, including male bonus-earners.
Was he surprised that he ended up at war with the unions? "Yes. The trade union movement is very tribal. I put in over 20 years, I was a councillor, a labour activist, I put in years of graft and now I'm seen as persona non gratis and the most hated lawyer in Britain. Councils hate me, government hates me, but the unions hate me most. They hate me because I'm stepping out of line, embarrassing them, making them do things they don't want to do."
It sounds like a boast? "No, I don't like being hated actually. I try to be philosophical about it. I think I'm doing a helluva good job …"
Clerical workers Rose and Andrea are sitting in the snug of a Birmingham pub. They don't want to give their surnames – the council still doesn't know they took action against them. When did they discover they were underpaid? Andrea takes a piece of paper from her pocket – it's a newspaper advert for Cross's services. "I cut it out," she says. She reads it out. "Call in to one of our drop-in meetings. We will help you win. Make a claim on a no-win, no-fee basis."
But why didn't they just go to their unions for help? After all, Unison would have charged them nothing. "They never told us we were entitled to anything," Rose says.
What did they think when the public-service unions claimed this week's victory as their own? "Sick," Andrea says. "I thought, you crafty buggers."
Over at Unison headquarters, Anita Edwards, team leader in the West Midlands equal pay unit, is making coffee in the break-out area. "Real coffee beans," she says with a smile. "Macchiato or cappuccino?" She is delighted with this week's ruling. "It's great. Really good news … as the biggest local authority in the country what happens in Birmingham often leads us elsewhere. We've got 6,000 equal pay claims at various stages, and 1,500 are with the council."
What if this bankrupts the council? "My understanding is that you can't bankrupt a local council. It's a red herring. And the council has been getting our members on the cheap for years. We'd be remiss if we didn't ensure our members got what they are entitled to. Anyway some of the figures are just ridiculous: £4bn I've seen quoted by the no-win, no-fee solicitors."
Was she always aware that these bonuses were unfair? "You'd have to be stupid not to be, but if you ask me did we know the employers were fiddling these bonuses in some instances, no." She quotes yet another ruling – this time last year's court of appeal victory for Unison against Coventry city council. "The judge used the expression, 'the council cannot hide behind the skirts of the trade unions' because Coventry tried to argue that it was the trade union's fault, they made us put these bonuses in place. Birmingham tried to rely on that defence and the chair of tribunal threw the defence out straightaway."
Fair enough, but why did the unions only begin to fight for their members once Stefan Cross lodged claims? And what about people like Andrea and Rose who said the union had not been there for them? "Well, that's not my understanding of the real world. I think Stefan Cross would like you to believe that." She finally mentions him by name. "Actually, Unison won the first massive equal pay claim for school meals workers way before Stefan Cross's activities began."
Look, says Edwards, it's easy for somebody like Cross – all he has to do is litigate. "Trade unions were founded to negotiate. Our phrase in relation to equal pay used to be educate, negotiate, litigate. And I still passionately believe the job of a good trade unionist is to negotiate. Not at any cost obviously. But we've got to balance all those interests. What I do know is that whatever amount those women win, my colleagues, male or female, don't stand to gain a penny from it. Our members will get every penny of what they achieve in the employment tribunal." A GMB representative levels the same charge against Cross – he's a get-rich-quick merchant.
But isn't he a friend of the unions because he's won compensation for their members. Edwards looks as if she could explode. "Well, if you consider somebody who brings claims against a trade union a friend of a trade union, yeah, but not in my view."
Councillor Alan Rudge is a well-fed man in a smart blue jacket and blue tie. He is a proud Tory in Birmingham's Conservative/Lib-Dem coalition, and cabinet minister for equalities and human resources. Where did everything go wrong? Simple, he says. "The inequalities were brought about by a combination of the Labour government and the unions. The unions had too much power and the Labour government was too feeble and did what the unions told it." At times, it sounds as if he runs the city singlehandedly. "All I will say is, and read what you want into this, I have got rid of every bonus system in Birmingham. They were inappropriate, so I terminated them. The unions created the inequalities. I solved the inequalities and made us the fairest city in the country."
As for the notion that the local authority could be bankrupted, that's just crazy, he says. "The figures quoted are preposterous. Been formulated by no-win, no-fee lawyers. Lawyers are supposed to be professionals not double glazing salesmen."
How long will it be before the women get their money? "Could be ages." They might never see it? "It depends how long they live! Hehehe!" He insists he's joking.
In a quiet suburb of Birmingham Theresa Daly lives with her disabled son. She has worked as a laundress at the local school for 25 years, and for the council for 40 years. At 72, she still works five days a week, 6.30am-noon. She was one of the test cases for Cross and last week she heard that they had won. Last night she was on television; today everybody made a fuss of her at work. "They were terrible, asking for my autograph and everything."
Like Rose and Andrea she thought she was underpaid but had no proof. "I was mad, really mad when I found out about the benefits. I couldn't believe it. I didn't feel it was wrong that they were getting the money, I thought it was wrong that we weren't. But women are always lower class than the men."
How will the ruling change her life? Her eyes light up, and she grins through gummy teeth. "It depends how much money I get. I'd be happy with about £100,000. That would transform my life completely, I could retire, relax, do the things I've never done, go on holiday."
Does she resent the fact that her lawyer could get rich off people like her? You're joking, she says. "If he makes money out of it and gets help for other people, good luck to him."
Stefan Cross is on the way to his office in a rough part of town – "the Beirut of Newcastle," he says. He's driving the Volvo today. Is he still a member of a trade union? "No. I came to the conclusion that I was deluding myself that I was welcome within the union movement. It's a cause of massive regret." Whatever his doubts, he says he would always recommend his clients to join unions.
Although there are many issues to be resolved, he thinks his work is beginning to wind down. "I think the unions will now submit lots of new cases as they should do. I would be surprised if we were still running a significant number in three years' time."
What will he do then? "I think my career will be over, and I won't be able to get a job." Because he's done too good a job or because he's made too many enemies. "Both," he says. And he laughs, a little uncertainly.
"Stefan Cross has just won yet another huge payout for low-paid women – in Birmingham this time. Councils despise him. But why are unions also at war with the activist fighting for gender pay equality?
Stefan Cross says his background gave him a passion for the underdog – his mother was a cleaner and his father struggled to hold down a job; the family were constantly moving to avoid debts.
It looked like a great day for women, trade unions, public-sector workers, idealistic lawyers, the whole kaboodle. In short, a great day for justice. Everybody seemed to have won when it was announced this week that 4,000 women in Birmingham would be compensated for a pay and grading structure that had discriminated against them for decades. The reality was somewhat different. As the trade unions claimed victory for themselves and the lawyers claimed victory for themselves, this could not have been less of a celebration of solidarity.
Perhaps it's fitting that this story has reached its finale now at the sunset of the New Labour years. It all started back in 1997 with Tony Blair and the promise of a new kind of fairness. The government agreed to introduce a pay structure for council workers that would eradicate the white collar/blue collar divide. The single status agreement was supposed to guarantee equality by creating a comparative system. So, for example, those on the same grade (care assistants and binmen, say) should be paid the same. It was bound to expose inequalities, but nobody knew at the time the extent of them. What it revealed was an appalling system of trade union/employer protectionism and discrimination – not so much jobs for the boys as bonuses for the boys. In the male-dominated industries, the men were by and large paid bonuses for everything from productivity to turning up for work. In the female industries (cleaning, caring, admin) these bonuses were by and large unheard of. Which meant that with overtime and bonuses some men were earning more than £50,000, while women on the same level earned £12,000.
It was bound to be a fiscal and ethical nightmare for all those taxed with ensuring a new fairness. Local councils orcentral government would be landed with huge compensation bills, trade unions would have to divert much of their time and money to fighting equality cases. There was a tremendous incentive for all involved to compromise. Which is what happened. In most cases, trade unions quietly negotiated a settlement with councils. The councils got off lightly, the unions got the chance to focus on other important issues, and the women were compensated. So everybody was happy.
Then along came lawyer Stefan Cross. He had already won equality cases for Cleveland dinner ladies while working for trade unions in the 1990s. But now it was a new millennium and he had his own company. He took out adverts in local papers inviting women to meetings where he told them they had been screwed by their employers and trade unions. For many women the fact that they were underpaid was news. The unions had, understandably, not shouted out about the discriminatory bonuses – after all they had negotiated them in the first place. Cross told them that he could win far bigger payouts than they would receive from union-council settlements. Of course, he would charge them – 25% of winnings initially, later reduced to 10% plus VAT – but he said they would still be better off with him. And that's when the whole thing exploded.
Since 2004 more than 1,000 Middlesbrough council workers have won over £10m in payouts. In 2007, it was revealed that Scotland's 32 authorities had paid out £117m in equality compensation – some won by trade unions, some by Cross. And this week huge figures have been thrown up like so much confetti after Cross's biggest victory. While trade unions suggested the Birmingham payouts might run to a modest £30m, Cross has suggested that the figure for those 4,000 cases already heard could run to £600m. And he estimates the final payout could be four times as much. Stories have emerged this week saying that, if he continues like this, this Porsche-driving ambulance-chaser Stefan Cross could singlehandedly bankrupt the country's local authorities.
He laughs at the suggestion. Rubbish, he says. "Anyway, I don't drive a Porsche." He's on the road as we speak. "I swapped it for a Ferrari. It's what I do the school run in." The number plate is perfectly personalised CRO5S ST (surname and initials).
Cross is 49 and has four children. He grew up in Surrey and Hampshire and says he was the first one in his family to get decent O-levels, never mind go to university. His mother was a cleaner, his father worked as an ice-cream man, postman, bus conductor, but couldn't hold a job down. The family were always on the move, running away from his father's debts. Cross says his background gave him the passion he has today for the underdog. He was a teenage trade union activist, and after university worked for the union solicitors Thompsons. After 16 years there he decided the unions were not fighting as hard as they could be for their members.
"The number one priority was to protect the pay of those who were already getting the higher pay; the men essentially. A study done in 1999 by local government showed that 80% of men's jobs were getting bonuses while only 1.2% of women's jobs were." He squeals in fury. "What's more shocking is that the unions and the employers already knew. There was a report in 1997 saying these bonuses were discriminatory."
In 2005 some of his clients in Middlesbrough took their union, the GMB, to court, and won – the Allen v GMB tribunal held that the GMB indirectly discriminated against female members by focusing on pay protection for men than on back-pay for women. The tribunal said that the GMB failed to explain to female members that the deal on offer was substantially less than they were likely to receive if they were successful before an employment tribunal, and that they were being asked to accept a smaller figure so that funds could be used to protect the pay of losers in the job evaluation scheme, including male bonus-earners.
Was he surprised that he ended up at war with the unions? "Yes. The trade union movement is very tribal. I put in over 20 years, I was a councillor, a labour activist, I put in years of graft and now I'm seen as persona non gratis and the most hated lawyer in Britain. Councils hate me, government hates me, but the unions hate me most. They hate me because I'm stepping out of line, embarrassing them, making them do things they don't want to do."
It sounds like a boast? "No, I don't like being hated actually. I try to be philosophical about it. I think I'm doing a helluva good job …"
Clerical workers Rose and Andrea are sitting in the snug of a Birmingham pub. They don't want to give their surnames – the council still doesn't know they took action against them. When did they discover they were underpaid? Andrea takes a piece of paper from her pocket – it's a newspaper advert for Cross's services. "I cut it out," she says. She reads it out. "Call in to one of our drop-in meetings. We will help you win. Make a claim on a no-win, no-fee basis."
But why didn't they just go to their unions for help? After all, Unison would have charged them nothing. "They never told us we were entitled to anything," Rose says.
What did they think when the public-service unions claimed this week's victory as their own? "Sick," Andrea says. "I thought, you crafty buggers."
Over at Unison headquarters, Anita Edwards, team leader in the West Midlands equal pay unit, is making coffee in the break-out area. "Real coffee beans," she says with a smile. "Macchiato or cappuccino?" She is delighted with this week's ruling. "It's great. Really good news … as the biggest local authority in the country what happens in Birmingham often leads us elsewhere. We've got 6,000 equal pay claims at various stages, and 1,500 are with the council."
What if this bankrupts the council? "My understanding is that you can't bankrupt a local council. It's a red herring. And the council has been getting our members on the cheap for years. We'd be remiss if we didn't ensure our members got what they are entitled to. Anyway some of the figures are just ridiculous: £4bn I've seen quoted by the no-win, no-fee solicitors."
Was she always aware that these bonuses were unfair? "You'd have to be stupid not to be, but if you ask me did we know the employers were fiddling these bonuses in some instances, no." She quotes yet another ruling – this time last year's court of appeal victory for Unison against Coventry city council. "The judge used the expression, 'the council cannot hide behind the skirts of the trade unions' because Coventry tried to argue that it was the trade union's fault, they made us put these bonuses in place. Birmingham tried to rely on that defence and the chair of tribunal threw the defence out straightaway."
Fair enough, but why did the unions only begin to fight for their members once Stefan Cross lodged claims? And what about people like Andrea and Rose who said the union had not been there for them? "Well, that's not my understanding of the real world. I think Stefan Cross would like you to believe that." She finally mentions him by name. "Actually, Unison won the first massive equal pay claim for school meals workers way before Stefan Cross's activities began."
Look, says Edwards, it's easy for somebody like Cross – all he has to do is litigate. "Trade unions were founded to negotiate. Our phrase in relation to equal pay used to be educate, negotiate, litigate. And I still passionately believe the job of a good trade unionist is to negotiate. Not at any cost obviously. But we've got to balance all those interests. What I do know is that whatever amount those women win, my colleagues, male or female, don't stand to gain a penny from it. Our members will get every penny of what they achieve in the employment tribunal." A GMB representative levels the same charge against Cross – he's a get-rich-quick merchant.
But isn't he a friend of the unions because he's won compensation for their members. Edwards looks as if she could explode. "Well, if you consider somebody who brings claims against a trade union a friend of a trade union, yeah, but not in my view."
Councillor Alan Rudge is a well-fed man in a smart blue jacket and blue tie. He is a proud Tory in Birmingham's Conservative/Lib-Dem coalition, and cabinet minister for equalities and human resources. Where did everything go wrong? Simple, he says. "The inequalities were brought about by a combination of the Labour government and the unions. The unions had too much power and the Labour government was too feeble and did what the unions told it." At times, it sounds as if he runs the city singlehandedly. "All I will say is, and read what you want into this, I have got rid of every bonus system in Birmingham. They were inappropriate, so I terminated them. The unions created the inequalities. I solved the inequalities and made us the fairest city in the country."
As for the notion that the local authority could be bankrupted, that's just crazy, he says. "The figures quoted are preposterous. Been formulated by no-win, no-fee lawyers. Lawyers are supposed to be professionals not double glazing salesmen."
How long will it be before the women get their money? "Could be ages." They might never see it? "It depends how long they live! Hehehe!" He insists he's joking.
In a quiet suburb of Birmingham Theresa Daly lives with her disabled son. She has worked as a laundress at the local school for 25 years, and for the council for 40 years. At 72, she still works five days a week, 6.30am-noon. She was one of the test cases for Cross and last week she heard that they had won. Last night she was on television; today everybody made a fuss of her at work. "They were terrible, asking for my autograph and everything."
Like Rose and Andrea she thought she was underpaid but had no proof. "I was mad, really mad when I found out about the benefits. I couldn't believe it. I didn't feel it was wrong that they were getting the money, I thought it was wrong that we weren't. But women are always lower class than the men."
How will the ruling change her life? Her eyes light up, and she grins through gummy teeth. "It depends how much money I get. I'd be happy with about £100,000. That would transform my life completely, I could retire, relax, do the things I've never done, go on holiday."
Does she resent the fact that her lawyer could get rich off people like her? You're joking, she says. "If he makes money out of it and gets help for other people, good luck to him."
Stefan Cross is on the way to his office in a rough part of town – "the Beirut of Newcastle," he says. He's driving the Volvo today. Is he still a member of a trade union? "No. I came to the conclusion that I was deluding myself that I was welcome within the union movement. It's a cause of massive regret." Whatever his doubts, he says he would always recommend his clients to join unions.
Although there are many issues to be resolved, he thinks his work is beginning to wind down. "I think the unions will now submit lots of new cases as they should do. I would be surprised if we were still running a significant number in three years' time."
What will he do then? "I think my career will be over, and I won't be able to get a job." Because he's done too good a job or because he's made too many enemies. "Both," he says. And he laughs, a little uncertainly.
