City bankers whose successes turn out to be failures have their bonuses taken back – so why not Crossrail chiefs?

Arguably the most important reform that followed the financial crisis was the power to claw back bonuses paid for successes that turned out to be failures. Naturally it is disappointing that it took global financial Armageddon for people to work out that hoodwinking your bosses in to believing everything was going great, and taking vast payments for your genius when you in fact know it’s all about go tits up is just not right.

Still, change came in the end. The pit now is that 10 years after ripping that particular badge of shame from the City’s lapel, the government is now only too happy to wear it itself.

That London’s new Crossrail train service, to be known as the Elizabeth Line, will now open at least nine months late is deeply disappointing. Hundreds of thousands of commuters have for several years now been almost counting down the days until the misery of their daily commutes are transformed by this bright, new, fast thing of wonder.

But what is not disappointing, but infuriating, is the hundreds of thousands of pounds of public money, paid to Crossrail executives for, yes, successes that have now been shown to be failures.

If, for example, Andy Wolstenholme, the former Crossrail chief executive, had worked for JP Morgan or Goldman Sachs, the hundreds of thousands of pounds paid to him in performance related bonuses would be fished out of his bank account and dropped back into the public purse where it belongs.

And why is that? Because hoodwinking your bosses, in this case the people, in to believing everything is going great and taking vast payments for your genius when you in fact know it’s all about go tits up is simply not right.

In July of this year, it was announced that £800,000 was paid in bonuses to senior Crossrail managers, at the same time it was forced to announce it had overspent its budget by £600m, and, we must presume, at the very same time said senior managers were coming up with strategies on when and how to reveal the news that Crossrail was not going to open on time.

We can only presume this, by the way, we cannot know for sure, because it is one of three questions Crossrail has not provided an answer for despite having been given 24 hours and multiple requests to do so. It also will not say precisely what Mr Wolstenholme’s performance related bonuses have been for. It will not say in what way Mr Wolstenholme’s performance, on a project that is approaching £1bn over budget and opening a year late, has been deemed to have exceeded expectations.

We must also presume that Mr Wolstenholme’s hundreds of thousands of pounds for failure cannot be clawed back, because this is the third question which Crossrail has not answered after several requests.

In the private sector, this grotesque reward of failure is infuriating enough, and that is with private money. In the public sector, it scarcely bears repeating that only last year’s performance related pay for Crossrail bosses is around 40 times the annual pay of an NHS nurse.

Nurses do not, by the way, receive performance related bonuses, not even for comprehensively failing in their jobs.

That Britain’s rail network is in chaos is no secret. But actually, the country’s reputation for delivering on large scale infrastructure projects on time and on budget has been significantly rehabilitated since the unqualified triumph of the Olympic Games. Since then, British companies, many of the same ones delivering Crossrail, have been sought the world over. That Crossrail will not open in time does, in fact, come as a shock. It also deals a significant reputational blow to the nation, and those who have overseen it have been overpaid for doing so.

The Elizabeth Line, when it opens, will be a terrific success. But the grotesque rewards for those who have been paid to fail should make us even more angry as a train that arrives a whole year late.