Scotland’s Quiet Rebellion Against Silence: a lesson for Canadians

Bamboo covered windows on the Scottish Parliament in Edinburgh.

In a world where survivors are too often asked to sign away their voices, Scotland is showing what it looks like to take a principled stand. Over the last few years, a quiet but meaningful shift has been unfolding in Scottish institutions—one that could reshape how we understand justice, accountability, and healing.

The shift began in earnest with Scotland’s universities. In 2019, several institutions pledged to stop using non-disclosure agreements in harassment cases, and by 2024 that commitment had hardened into policy. Universities Scotland, representing all of the country’s higher education institutions, made it clear: they would not use NDAs to settle complaints of harassment or abuse. Survivors would not be silenced. They would retain the right to speak, to report, and to seek support without fear of legal repercussion.

This may sound like a small step, but in a sector where institutional reputation often trumps transparency, it was a bold and necessary act. It offered something far too rare: a clear signal to survivors that their stories matter more than the brand.

That message has since rippled outward. In the legal and advocacy world, organizations like the Scottish Women’s Rights Centre have been pushing the government to adopt broader reforms. While their recent work has focused on introducing specialist courts for sexual offences and improving protections in the criminal system, their stance on survivor voice is unwavering. They understand that a survivor's ability to speak openly—without being legally bound to silence—is not a side issue. It's central to justice.

And yet, while education and advocacy are moving in the right direction, some public institutions are lagging behind. Over the past several years, it was revealed that Police Scotland had spent millions in public funds on severance packages that included confidentiality clauses. Though the exact details of these agreements remain unclear, the concern is obvious: when a public body uses NDAs to cover internal misconduct, it undermines public trust and accountability. Survivors and whistleblowers deserve better than that.

The tension between policy and practice in Scotland reflects a broader question facing governments around the world: will we allow survivors to speak on their own terms, or will we continue to protect institutions at their expense? In higher education, Scotland has chosen the former. In the public sector, the debate is ongoing. But the groundwork has been laid.

Canada is asking these same questions. Across provinces and federal discussions, there is a growing recognition that NDAs have too often been used to shield abusers and silence survivors. While some steps have been taken—most notably in British Columbia and Ontario, where private member bills have been introduced—there is no national legislation in place to prohibit NDAs in cases of sexual misconduct. Yet, with survivor-led movements gaining ground and growing public pressure for transparency, the moment is ripe. Scotland’s example shows that transformation can begin with policy and cultural commitment before becoming law—and that institutions don’t need to wait for legislation to do the right thing.

This isn’t just a legal issue. It’s a moral one. What Scotland is beginning to recognize—and what others would do well to learn—is that healing does not come from silence. It comes from truth-telling, from community, and from knowing that your story will not be locked behind legal language or buried in a settlement file.

The real test now is whether Scotland will take what it has learned from its universities and enshrine it in law. Policy is powerful. But legislation—binding, enforceable, survivor-led—would send a message that no one, in any sector, should ever be forced to choose between justice and their voice.

Scotland is not all the way there. But it may be closer than most.