We have, so far, only seen the tip of this iceberg

Poor, misunderstood Sir Philip Green. The clothing mogul is “passionate”, “overexuberant and hot-headed”, according to his lawyers, which is why he sometimes makes the kind of social mistakes that see him settle payouts of up to £1million each with former employees. It could happen to any of us.

When he was named in Parliament last year as the businessman seeking an injunction against The Telegraph, Green told the Mail on Sunday that this newspaper was making a meal out of “banter” that had “never been offensive”. Banter like telling a black employee that he “was still throwing spears in the jungle”. “Passionate” behaviour like groping and kissing female employees without their consent.

Perhaps Sir Philip Green is too obvious a villain to inspire a sophisticated national conversation on workplace behaviour. (The BHS scandal; the Monaco tax set-up; the time he proclaimed a journalist to be illiterate on the basis he was “a f---ing Irishman”.) But plenty of employers still use terms like “banter” to minimise behaviour that seriously degrades the dignity of their colleagues. Green feels like an extreme case, but his refusal to accept the impact of his behaviour makes him a very ordinary office bully. There’s a reason why Ricky Gervais’s portrayal of a cocky boss with boundary issues resonated in The Office.

One solution to these types is the use of behaviour codes in businesses, which make entirely clear what does and does not constitute acceptable behaviour in the office. Yes, it’s deathly dull to start a new job watching a presentation on why you shouldn’t ask about your colleagues’ underwear, but men (and women) like Green can’t then complain they weren’t warned. And despite anti-feminist myth, the Metoo movement isn’t about preventing people ever flirting. Thirty per cent of us meet our partners at work – only a Malthusian monk would want to block that. But behavioural codes often include sections on how to manage a consensual relationship in the workplace. Recuse yourself from your girlfriend’s performance review; don’t grope your subordinates. It’s not that difficult.

Even the Houses of Parliament are improving on this score. Since I and others came forward with allegations of harassment in 2017, a robust new code of behaviour has been introduced.

But the culture of non-disclosure agreements (NDAS) will be harder to fix. Penny Mordaunt and Maria Miller both told The Telegraph this week that NDAS need reform, but they may have to start close to home: it has been reported that senior Parliamentarians have made NDA settlements with staff. An awful lot more would have been published about the “Pestminster” scandals without NDAS.

There’s no simple case for abolishing NDAS. For an individual harassed at work, silence may be a price worth paying in return for serious compensation and a chance to move on. But if six women, for example, each sign a separate NDA with the same boss, they can’t share information. It’s a divide-and-conquer strategy. Those looking to reform NDAS should focus on mechanisms to allow repeat patterns of behaviour to be exposed, especially in public figures.

Thanks to NDAS, the public has so far only seen the tip of this iceberg. There’s much more to come.