At Cornell, Title IX Failed Too
When mistakes are made, our instincts are to do everything and anything possible to minimize them and keep them hidden. Failure, after all, is a deficiency. And such deficiencies just cannot be permitted in the workplace, particularly if that workplace is a college campus.
The last few weeks, though, have shown us that the actions on the Ivy League campus at Cornell University were nothing but a master class in failure and operating in a deficiency mindset. In our search for something positive, the best we can do is find one of the 57 on the group chat who seemed to find remorse for the evening’s “activities” the next morning, yet his half-hearted apology hardly wins him a gold star, a hall pass, or even an atta boy in light of the drip-drip-drip of information that continues to come to us from Ithaca.
So it now leaves parents, alumni, law enforcement, politicians, professional activists, women’s rights advocates, and all those who just believe in human decency to ask what comes next. In the expected level-headedness of a mob, we’ve now heard everything from all 57 on the group chat should be expelled from Cornell to a full-scale doxxing campaign should be launched to prevent every single one of them from ever receiving gainful employment again, while quiet voices from the cheap seats just repeat quietly, “Duke lacrosse, Duke lacrosse.”
What gets lost in demands for doxxing and outrage over essays as a disciplinary policy is the role of federal Title IX in the process. In fact, it’s like Title IX wasn’t even a factor at the start, the middle, or the conclusion of this circus of a kangaroo court.
For those unfamiliar (or those who think they know, but don’t), Title IX is a federal civil rights law passed in 1972 that states that “no person can be excluded from, denied the benefits of, or discriminated against under any educational programs or activity that receives federal money based on their sex.” It also ensures that schools and educational programs cannot treat students or staff unfairly just because of their sex, gender identity, or sexual orientation.
Specifically to this case, Title IX requires Cornell to handle reports of sexual harassment, sexual assault, stalking, and relationship violence seriously.
Get Patrick Riccards’s stories in your inbox
Join Medium for free to get updates from this writer.
While all are still ascertaining all the facts, let’s give Cornell some interim grades here. Jane Doe was denied the benefit of attending classes, when Cornell refused to let her withdraw and refund her tuition when she ran into her alleged attacker each day in class. According to Cornell Police’s own notes, she was treated quite differently after her report was filed than her accusers were. And based on some of the sentences some of the Cornell 7 received, it’s damn hard to say the Cornell Administration took these reports seriously, particularly when alumni were involved.
Title IX enforcement is tough business. I should know. As a former university administrator, I was responsible for Title IX. It was a never-ending quest to find those willing to serve on panels and willing to take the mandatory trainings. Every case before us presented some form of conflict, from a faculty member, coach, administrator, or friend. First instincts were to decide based on the personality and perceived sincerity of the accused, not on the facts of the case. And those accused students with connections in the administration — usually through the athletic department — came in thinking they were untouchable, while first-gen students with no juice came in just expecting a harsh sentence.
But a funny thing happens when the rules are applied evenly to all, and justice doesn’t see status or family connections or whether one starts on the soccer or lacrosse team. The victims can be heard and believed. Justice can prevail. Equal punishments can be administered. And the system strengthens.
From what we’ve heard so far, the Title IX process at Cornell has been used as a cudgel, intended to protect the wealthy, the powerful, and the athletes. That’s the antithesis of its intention. When signed into law, it was meant to give voice to the voiceless and to ensure that Jane Does on thousands of campuses had a right, an irrefutable right, to be heard how they have been victimized. That’s the model we need to get back to.
When I was leading that Title IX office on my campus, there was much clutching of pearls because by the second semester, the number of reported cases to the office had risen significantly. Of course, this must be a failure of leadership and a personal failure of mine. Heads around the table bounced up and down like bobbleheads, like I was the pied piper of sexual assault complaints.
Until the campus safety director spoke. He explained the leadership team misunderstood crime statistics, particularly SA stats. After so many years of flat numbers, the increase was actually a good thing. We all knew incidents were happening on campus. For far too long, too many women chose not to report, believing nothing would ever be done. After watching me work for some time, I was told, they finally believed there was someone who would listen, who would believe, who would act, and who would act fairly. And we did.
Every Jane Doe deserves, and should demand, that same sort of process. No shame in coming forward if they suspect something. Respect during the investigative process. Support throughout the investigative process. And explanation of the final decision.
If it was you, your wife, your girlfriend, your partner, or your daughter, you’d demand it. Why should another Jane Doe receive less from our criminal justice system?
