On your left is the political beating heart of the Highlands-not one grand throne room, but the idea of how this enormous stretch of Scotland gets itself organised. Politics here isn’t just speeches and soundbites; it’s potholes, ferries, school decisions, planning permissions, and the eternal Highland question: how do you run a place that’s bigger than some countries, with mountains, islands, and weather that enjoys a surprise plot twist?
The main actor in this story is the Highland Council-Comhairle na Gaidhealtachd in Gaelic. Picture 74 councillors, all trying to represent communities that can be separated by sea lochs, snowy passes, and an occasional herd of Highland coos that absolutely will not be hurried. They meet and work out of the council headquarters on Glenurquhart Road in Inverness, but what they decide ripples right out to Caithness, Skye, Lochaber, and beyond.
Now, the way people get elected here is a bit more “choose your favourites” than “pick one and hope.” The council uses the single transferable vote system: you rank candidates in order, and if your top choice doesn’t need your vote-or doesn’t stand a chance-your vote moves along to your next preference. It’s built to be more proportional, which suits a place where people often vote for the person they trust, not just the badge on the leaflet. That’s why Independents have always mattered in Highland politics; local reputation is serious currency.
Council politics can feel like a ceilidh dance-partners changing mid-tune. In the 2022 election, the administration became a coalition of the Scottish National Party and the Independent group. They held 39 seats, while the opposition was a lively mix: Liberal Democrats, Conservatives, Labour, Greens, and a few Independents who refused to be neatly boxed in. And then came the reshuffles: a Conservative councillor stepping away to run as a Unionist but ending up non-aligned; resignations for health reasons; by-elections; and the formation of new groupings like the Highland Alliance. If you ever think your workplace has too many group chats, the Highland Council would like a word.
This constant motion isn’t new. Back in 2007, something fascinating happened: Independents started behaving like a party, even using a “whip”-that’s the system parties use to keep members voting the same way. Coalitions formed, collapsed, and re-formed with the SNP, Liberal Democrats, and Labour, plus splinter groups with names that sound like they should be folk bands. It’s politics with a Highland accent: practical, personal, and occasionally dramatic.
Zoom out a little, and you’ll see how the whole system was shaped. The Highland Council itself is relatively young-created in the mid-1990s when older regional and district councils were swept away. Early elections were simple, first-past-the-post, one councillor per ward. Later came boundary redraws, and in 2007 the big shift to multi-member wards and ranked-choice voting. Management structures changed too-once carved into big administrative areas, then later streamlined so wards became the clear building blocks again.
And it’s not just local government, of course. The Highland council area also sends representatives to Westminster and Holyrood. It has three UK Parliament constituencies and three Scottish Parliament constituencies, all sitting wholly within the Highland area. Here’s the tricky bit: by population alone, the Highlands might “deserve” fewer Westminster seats, but maps aren’t just maths. Geography and culture matter. You try drawing a tidy constituency line over sea, mountain, and island without upsetting everybody, and you’ll see why boundary changes are slow and controversial.
Ready for Inverness Cathedral? Just walk southeast for 9 minutes.
