Content warning: This editorial contains references to sexual violence.
On Sept. 28, Cornell University responded to a lawsuit filed by a woman we know only as Jane Doe. Her complaint alleged that seven members of Cornell’s Chi Phi fraternity drugged and gang raped her in October 2024. Only two were expelled, while the other five wrote essays to “mitigate” the harm they’d done.
Jane Doe dropped out, and the university went silent. Two years later, America has turned its tides in an outpouring of support. The shock is warranted. But the surprise isn’t.
It’s time to face the fact that the “Cornell incident” isn’t just born of Cornell problems, or limited to a Cornell issue. When Jonathan Newell texted the Chi Phi group chat inviting them to assault Jane Doe, seven men went into the room, but over fifty watched behind their screens. That same year on Penn’s campus, only four people formally reported sexual violence to the University, yet one in five respondents in a university-wide sexual misconduct survey answered that they had experienced it.
In that gap between the four individuals who submitted an official report and all the rest who didn’t, there lie miles of forms to fill out, immeasurable amounts of University silence, and finally, outrage — but only when trauma seems worthy of a headline.
Too often in their responses to sexual assault, universities prioritize bolstering their own image over making targeted investments in student safety. Pushing alternative resolution methods — like confidential resources and restorative justice practitioners — over informing students of their right to report without a full-blown investigation attached allows Penn to do two things, neither of which involve administering justice or accountability. First, it saves the institution what it sees as the bureaucratic nightmare of Title IX proceedings. And second, it avoids the blemish of another official sexual violence report on its annual government-mandated disclosure. This is one of many covert ways by which the University silences survivors: it responds to cries for help with talk of “resources.”
Even our own student government officials have taken advantage of this tragedy, priding themselves upon paving a new path forward while, in actuality, directing students to the same institutional routes that have created our present culture of violence. On Monday, the Undergraduate Assembly sent out an email that began with three sentences acknowledging the Cornell “incident.” They were followed by 17 more sentences, each containing a bureaucratic step to effectively nowhere. The number of nods to University-sanctioned resources, which is to say University-approved methods of resolution, was matched only by the emptiness of the promise of change.
Overshadowing student-focused groups like Abuse and Sexual Assault Prevention, these administrator-led initiatives won’t address the epidemic of rape culture on our campus. New layers of bureaucracy will not protect students. A list of “resources” or a haphazardly assembled taskforce are not substitutes for genuine care and support. We don’t need another ad hoc committee — we need accountability from the ground up. From University policy to Greek life and clubs to Penn’s social fabric itself, made up of thousands of tiny ties between students, we must challenge the roots of sexual violence and the culture that lets it happen in silence.
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In destructive ways that are far from unique to Cornell, the social structures of college campuses often allow perpetrators of sexual violence to go unpunished, even after they graduate. Diego Sarabia worked at Wells Fargo, Matthew Ingalls at DataAnnotation, and Scott Norris at Glenfarne Group LLC. Sound familiar? Statistically, you know someone with these aspirations who has committed the same harm. You’ve walked by them on Locust, you’ve stood in line next to them at a downtown, maybe you’ve even coffee chatted them at Stommons. Their positions of power shield them from accountability, and their entire network is incentivized to brush off allegations if it means they can get a job referral. Buying into this willful innocence is what creates the problem.
Perhaps we can agree with one point from the UA email: “Penn is no exception.” It’s true. One way to read that statement is to recognize that sexual violence happens far too often on college campuses everywhere. To see it as a horrific truth, but an inescapable one. And the other way to read it — but the way in which we must — is that the University will fail us if we don’t acknowledge its failures, and our own, first. Let’s turn away from the administrative bloat and bureaucratic buzzwords for a moment. Let’s turn toward what a perpetrator, or a survivor, looks like: someone you know. Let’s meet the insidious gaze of campus rape culture. Let’s not be afraid to look ourselves in the eye, and to say that we, as a community, must do better to eliminate sexual violence from college campuses, once and for all.
Editorials represent the majority view of members of The Daily Pennsylvanian Editorial Board who meet regularly to discuss issues relevant to the Penn community. This body is led by Opinion Editor Ingrid Holmquist and operates independently from the newsroom. Questions or comments should be directed to letters@thedp.com.
