Never Wheeshting

No matter what

It’s a funny old world. Things you consider fundamental and essential, the bedrock of your existence, can be thrown into stark relief and a necessary sense of proportion by — “events, dear girl. Events.”

Photo by Mathew MacQuarrie on Unsplash

Not so long ago, I faced what I considered my greatest challenge — the demand from those who had already done their best to destroy me to grind me utterly into the dust. Despite everything I had learned about them — and these were my former employers and “friends” — I still managed to be startled by their vindictive brutality.

But those corporate humans were not, after all, my greatest challenge. It almost makes me laugh that I thought they were. In the great scheme of things, those horrendous people are self-important distractions and they always were. That doesn’t mean that what they did — and what they later tried to do — doesn’t matter. It does, very much. I hope they will never be allowed to do it to another human being, but I don’t trust that they won’t try.

Writers: never be fooled. These people are not your friends, and they are not on your side. Whatever else happens, retain your creative freedom. Retain your actual freedom. Don’t ever rely on your agent, don’t ever trust the Society of Authors to defend you. It is on you, and no other body, to protect your interests.

Photo by Taras Chernus on Unsplash

And so, to my supporters and to my fellow un-wheeshting women:

I want to thank each and every one of you for your support, your kindness and lately, your patience.

As many of you know, I have been engaged since 2020 in a case against my former employers, Working Partners, and their clients, publishers HarperCollins US. Working Partners are the creators of mass-produced pseudonymous fiction like Rainbow Fairies, Beast Quest, and animal fantasy series — such as Warrior Cats — that are promoted under the fictional name Erin Hunter.

These children’s series focus heavily on virtues such as empathy, courage and loyalty. It’s ironic, then, that both Working Partners and HarperCollins caved to an anonymous internet mob in June of 2020, and fired me as a writer and presenter — for my stance on women’s sex-based rights — just five weeks after the death of my husband.

I have bad and good news — in that order — to tell my supporters. It’s a long time since I’ve posted an update, and I apologise for that delay; a lot has happened since April and matters moved so much more swiftly than I’d have predicted given my previous experience with the Scottish legal system.

On 8th April, as I’ve posted earlier on CrowdJustice, I had the disappointing news that the EAT had upheld the judge’s ruling in my Employment Tribunal that I was not a “worker” and therefore was ineligible to bring my main case before the Tribunal. I disagree, of course, and was disappointed that the court took six months to produce a judgment that in my view did not give my arguments the consideration they deserved. The judge assigned to my case was not only brand new to Employment Tribunals (mine was his first case), but he did not address in any detail the grounds of appeal put forward by my excellent barrister David Mitchell.

It’s important to reiterate, though, that this means my case has no impact on other workers who have suffered discrimination for their feminist, gender critical, or sex realist views. My case fell on a technicality of employment law, no more.

Photo by Mikhail Pavstyuk on Unsplash

I always knew that should I lose the crucial point at the EAT, I was not going to continue to Crowdfund. You have been unbelievably generous in your support for me, and I am more grateful than I can say that you enabled me to take my case as far as I did.

However, the technical hurdle I had to clear was not essential to the cause of women’s rights and child protection in the way that so many other current cases are. I continue to believe that the exploitative employment practices of publishers and book packagers need to be challenged, but that is work for other organisations. I would be happy if, for instance, the Society of Authors under its renewed management committee would take this issue forward, but that fight is not the responsibility of women and men whose principal concern is the threat of gender ideology or the battle for freedom of speech.

*

And now to events since the Employment Appeal Tribunal judgment was received in April:

Highly unusually, the EAT gave me leave to appeal to the Inner Court of Session (the highest civil court in Scotland). We had expected this to require a separate prior application, but the court appears to have believed a further appeal was justified without request.

My wonderful legal team, provided by the Free Speech Union, persuaded me that this avenue was worth pursuing — and it was. The obstacle facing us was that costs would now kick in. We agreed, therefore, that I would represent myself going forward; but that we would apply to the Court of Session for a cost-neutral order, and for permission for my barrister David Mitchell to be with me in court to support me. (David offered, extremely generously, to work pro bono, but as an English barrister he was unable to represent me at the Scottish Court of Session.)

Had these permissions been denied, we would have withdrawn my appeal immediately. I could not afford to incur further costs and, as I’ve made clear, I was not willing to make further demands on donors.

What followed was entirely my fault and responsibility, not that of my legal team. I was travelling with my family in early July, but with the help of friends, and a handy ancient scanner, I submitted my motion to the Inner Court on Monday 8th July — just in time for the deadline.

If I thought I could relax for a week or so — and I did just that — I was badly wrong. I was aware that a fee was due for submitting the motion; I was not aware that there was a deadline for that, too, and that it was a strict one. I made the mistake of taking literally the Inner Court’s words “at your convenience”. On the Monday following submission of the motion — 15th July — I was informed it had lapsed.

A further motion and fee was necessary to reactivate it. The Respondents — Working Partners and HarperCollins — were entitled to object. This they did, and a hearing was scheduled for Tuesday the 6th August, before three judges of the Court of Session. I was required to attend should I wish to keep my motion for an appeal alive. Should I fail to attend, all costs would be on me.

*

At this point, I took a mental step back. I was working full time, with little opportunity to prepare my case, and would have faced the Respondents’ senior counsel in court. To put it bluntly: “Erin Hunter” I may have been, but Erin Brockovitch I am not.

I was, moreover, aware that the toll on my psychological health was increasing hugely, and that I was becoming seriously mentally unwell. Should I continue, the prospect of financial ruin — and of harming my children, who matter more to me than anything — was something I could not face.

I offered to withdraw my motion and the appeal.

This, though, was not enough for the Respondents.

In my relief at dropping my case, I informed my current employers that I would not, after all, need time off to travel to Edinburgh on Monday 5th August for a court appearance on the Tuesday. So I was at work on Monday when my legal team contacted me urgently to say that, contrary to my expectations, I had to be in court the following morning. A formal agreement had to be reached with the Respondents, Working Partners and HarperCollins US.

My transport bosses were unbelievably kind and understanding, and instructed me to return all goods to the depot and get to Edinburgh as soon as I could. This I did, while calling my son’s partner with four hours’ notice to ask if I could sleep on their sofa that night. On the drive south, I stopped in multiple lay-bys to consult with lawyers and with ACAS as we tried to confirm an agreement with the Respondents’ legal teams.

At two minutes to five pm, a theoretical agreement was finally reached. I would withdraw my motion and would reach a settlement with the Respondents. The motion to withdraw — plus fee — would be submitted the following morning; the Court sitting was cancelled and the judges stood down. That expense at least was avoided.

All of this I did. I felt I was letting down my legal team and the FSU, who had stood by me so strongly. I knew, too, that I was letting down my supporters who had financed me this far. But my financial and emotional limits had been reached, and I knew I could not take this further.

Costs and fees had already been amassed by both sides, but had Tuesday’s hearing gone ahead, these costs would have increased exponentially. I was relieved to have cancelled in time to avoid at least that catastrophic expense.

But from this point, in order to finalise the Agreement, I was pitched into a ruthless game of corporate legal chicken.

(That’s my favourite bantam, Waylon, who played an excellent game of chicken even with the full-size Boss Hogg.)

*

Even now, I am theoretically* not permitted to reveal the details of what was proposed. It was draconian. My lawyers, sensibly, advised me that I must agree to everything that was demanded — that is, unless I wanted to lose my savings, my house: basically, everything my husband and I had worked for to provide for our children.

*(I have consulted many lawyers. Advice is conflicting.)

*

A pause for thought.

It’s been a long campaign for women, and it isn’t over. I’ve bought many a t-shirt, their messages defiant and sometimes belligerent, to promote our cause and support my sisters.

I love the wristbands I always wear that state “Women Won’t Wheesht [be silent].”  I’m deeply proud of my chapter — an honest and truthful one — for a recent bestselling book entitled “The Women Who Wouldn’t Wheesht.” I’ve stood outside the Scottish Parliament with masses of women, and we hollered at the top of our lungs at the wilfully-deaf politicians within about the harms they were doing to women and children.

In the wake of all that, and with much more of the fight to come, it hardly seemed the time to back down, give up, wheesht.

So I didn’t. And, by the way, I never will.

I was, however, in despair at the choice I faced. I owed my loyalty at least as much to my children as to my beliefs.

And then, last minute help was offered from some dear friends. I was given the chance to say No. With eternal gratitude, I took it.

The game of legal chicken came to an end; I did not sign the atrocious Agreement proposed by the Respondents, or any Agreement at all. I did not cave. I did not sacrifice everything I had ever worked for to principles I was not willing to betray.

So, it’s over. And I remain proud. And grateful to every single person who stood with me.

*

Again, I want to thank everyone who has been with me since this all began in 2020:

Every single person who donated to my Crowdfunder. Without you I’d have got nowhere. Your generosity and commitment are an inspiration. Thank you all. We will win.

Warren Cabral, who delved into every legal argument and worked tirelessly for a stranger (at least, a stranger when we started all this). I will never be able to buy you enough Bermudan rum.

The Free Speech Union, and especially the tenacious Bryn Harris. I do not know where any of us would be if not for Toby Young’s founding of the FSU, and for its tremendously generous donors. Join the FSU — preferably before you need it, as so many of us will.

My barrister David Mitchell, who offered to help me pro bono — and whose cross examination of my (writhing) former employer remains a memory of endless joy.

Shah Qureshi, and latterly the entirely terrifying David McKie, and his excellent team Amanda and Daniel. You have been unbelievably patient with an obstinate client.

My current employers. It would probably do you more harm than good to name you, but you are two of the finest and truest men I ever met.

Mary Gordon @fatblackcatspaw, who never let me lose heart. We miss you, Mary.

My previous, retired, literary agent Sarah Molloy, who would never have let all of this happen as it did. “A tower of strength” is an understatement.

Malcolm Cameron. He knows why.

And especially: all those who have supported me publicly and privately throughout. I will never, ever be able to thank you enough.

Gillian Philip

October 2024