There’s something corrosive at the heart of Dundee’s public life. The city’s key institutions are becoming more secretive, more defensive, and less willing to answer to the people they serve.
Dundee University isn’t a one-off scandal. It’s the destructive culmination of a wider trend. Over the past decade, a culture has taken root across the university, the council and the health board where transparency is treated like a nuisance and scrutiny is swerved at every turn.
It’s damaging. It’s undemocratic. And it’s stopping the city from getting the services it deserves.
Let’s start with the university. The tragic collapse of its finances has already been pored over in great detail. Last week a damning independent report, the Gillies Review, said the governing court failed in its most basic duties. No management accounts. No challenge to assumptions. No grip.
Only when the university was staring into the abyss did resignations begin. Principal Iain Gillespie stepped down. Shane O’Neill, his deputy, initially took over before also departing. But by then, the damage was done. The university came close to an extinction-level event.
Yet others who held key roles during that period remain unmoved.
Dundee council chief’s wall of silence
When The Courier asked Dundee City Council chief executive Greg Colgan – who sits on the university court as the council’s representative – how he’d discharged his duties, we got silence.
Despite being flagged in the report as having a conflict of interest in key financial roles, Mr Colgan refused to say anything. He wouldn’t even confirm whether he still felt his position was tenable.
This is one of the city’s most powerful public servants, earning more than £160,000 a year – and when a major crisis hits one of Dundee’s most important institutions, he simply ducks the question.
That’s not leadership. It’s a dereliction of duty.
Mr Colgan’s council has form. Look at the Olympia swimming pool – closed for two years and handed a £6.1 million repair bill. When The Courier asked for a breakdown of those costs under Freedom of Information, the council replied that the work wasn’t “repairs” but “refurbishment”. As if playing with words could explain why the public was left in the dark.
The Scottish Information Commissioner called this out as “puzzling” and said the council had “deliberately misconstrued” the request. Even after being ordered to look again, they’re still refusing to release the full details – now hiding behind “commercial confidentiality”.
Public money. Public building. No public answers.
A swimming pool doesn’t carry the same economic weight as a university. But the mindset behind both failures is the same.
NHS Tayside whistleblowing failure
Then there’s NHS Tayside. A junior doctor blew the whistle on claims that part-time medics were being underpaid, with timesheets altered to stop them claiming overtime.
The health board dismissed the concerns. They didn’t interview the key staff member. They didn’t audit the system at the heart of the claim. Then they told the whistleblower there was “no evidence”.
But there was no proper investigation in the first place. That only came to light after the national watchdog intervened and found NHS Tayside had failed in its duty to take the claim seriously. The board has now apologised – but the doctor who raised the alarm has already left, disillusioned and angry.
‘Secrecy hides problems and makes them worse’
MSP Michael Marra has gone even further. He says NHS Tayside is “fundamentally dishonest” and more concerned with “managing headlines for SNP politicians” than doing the right thing.
Let’s not pretend these are isolated blunders. This is a pattern – a public sector culture where too many in charge act like they’re above the rules. Paid with your money. Protected by the press office. Answerable to no one.
They block questions, stall interviews and hide behind jargon. They treat fair scrutiny like a personal attack. And they hope, time and again, that the press will give up and the public will move on.
But secrecy doesn’t just hide problems – it makes them worse. And it corrodes trust from the inside out.
Some in senior roles act like the local media is the problem. An inconvenience. A distraction. Something to manage – not engage with.
They’re wrong.
Just look at the case of Professor Sam Eljamel. The disgraced surgeon harmed patients for years while under investigation. It wasn’t the health board or the government who brought the full story to light. It was journalism. The Courier’s relentless reporting kept the pressure on, gave victims a voice and helped force a public inquiry.
That’s not an irritation. That’s accountability.
In too many cities across the UK, the local press is effectively gone. In Dundee, it’s still going strong – and some in power clearly wish it wasn’t.
I’ve worked in newsrooms across Scotland for two decades, reported from Holyrood, and edited The Courier for six years. I’ve never seen a culture of secrecy as deep and dangerous as the one tightening its grip on this city’s institutions.
But this isn’t about the newspaper. It’s about trust, democracy and good governance. Because – as the university’s financial meltdown demonstrated – when people in power stop answering questions, everything else starts to fall apart. Public money gets wasted. Staff lose faith. Services decline. And no one takes the blame.
Dundee is a proud, ambitious city. It deserves institutions that are open, honest and strong enough to face scrutiny. It deserves leaders who don’t run from questions. And it deserves a public sector that remembers it exists to serve the people – not itself.
Here’s what needs to happen:
- FOI laws must be respected – not dodged
- Whistleblowers must be protected – not punished
- Journalists must be treated as a vital part of public life – not a threat to be neutralised
- And public officials must remember who they work for.
So here’s my message to those running this city’s institutions.
You can keep dodging. Keep spinning. The Courier will still be here – watching, reporting, holding power to account.
We know that’s our job.
It’s time you remembered what yours is.
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