Melbourne, Australia – A respected name once etched in golden letters at the top of Australia’s private neurosurgical hierarchy, Greg Malham is now the epicenter of a disturbing exposé revealing a culture of sexism, intimidation, and unchecked power in elite healthcare.

It began with a viral moment — a video of Malham tearing down an election corflute of Monique Ryan during the federal campaign, casually remarking, “Always gotta bury the body.” But what might have seemed like a distasteful joke ignited an avalanche of testimony from nurses, radiographers, and even former patients — exposing a pattern many say was decades in the making.

Malham, once a celebrated figure at Epworth HealthCare — Melbourne’s largest private hospital — was described by colleagues as a man with a “God complex”, whose charm masked a culture of deeply entrenched misogyny. Former nurse Katie recounted how his “crass remarks about women” and uncomfortable physical gestures created a theater environment where many staff simply “felt unsafe.”

Another ex-staff member, Maddison, described the environment as “toxic,” stating:

“I felt uncomfortable, intimidated, scared, stressed, and embarrassed. I left the theater and burst into tears.”

The Royal Australasian College of Surgeons issued a rare public condemnation following Malham’s corflute incident, labeling it “abhorrent.” Their Surgical Competence and Performance Framework clearly outlines that repeated disrespect toward staff or patients is unacceptable.

So why, despite multiple complaints and an official investigation by AHPRA (Australian Health Practitioner Regulation Agency), is Greg Malham still practicing — now at Warringal Private Hospital under “temporary credentialling”?

That question gains more weight when tied to the tragedy of Laura Heffernan, a bright 34-year-old nurse who took her own life in 2014. In a coronial brief now made public, Laura’s suicide note placed direct emotional blame on her relationship with Malham. She described feeling “disgusting & used & humiliated & ashamed” after discovering he had been romantically involved with both her and his ex-wife simultaneously.

Her words were haunting:

“I don’t think the pain of how someone could be so hurtful … will ever go away.”

The revelations were described by Ruth, a close friend and key witness, as “a waste of a beautiful life.” Despite the gravity of Laura’s accusations, Malham never contacted her family nor responded to police inquiries.

Critically, multiple Epworth nurses described a culture where Malham’s behavior was tolerated, perhaps even shielded, due to his stature and revenue contribution. Ruth told Four Corners,

“They’re the top of the food chain. They are seen as almost untouchable.”

This kind of unaccountable environment is being called out by others like Dr. Yumiko Kadota, who abandoned neurosurgery training due to its “toxic dude-bro culture.” Kadota’s post about Malham’s viral video attracted a flood of messages from women who shared similar experiences.

“It’s a typical locker room chat where you get away with misogyny because no one holds you accountable,” she said.

Only 16% of neurosurgeons in Australia are women, as pointed out by Dr. Ruth Mitchell, herself a practicing neurosurgeon. She emphasizes how female trainees are burdened with “emotional labor” — not just learning surgery but managing the egos and behaviors of male colleagues.

Even Epworth CEO Andrew Stripp was forced to confront the imbalance, stating simply:

“All 25 neurosurgeons here are men. That is not OK.”

So, why does this culture persist?

Critics argue that the private hospital system has long enabled high-earning doctors to act without accountability. Staff feared retaliation. Complaints allegedly vanished. One nurse who stood up for Laura Heffernan was quietly let go.

Now, as Greg Malham continues to operate — without having addressed any of these allegations publicly — a growing number of former staff and patients are calling for change. A zero-tolerance policy is promised by Ramsay Health Care, the owner of Warringal Hospital, but many question whether such policies are truly enforced when prestige and money are involved.

“It’s time we stopped worshipping the hands that hold the scalpel,” said a former nurse.

“No life is worth losing to someone else’s ego.”

This is not just a story about one man.
It’s a story about unchecked power, silence in the face of suffering, and the cost of ignoring the warning signs until it’s too late.

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