A high-profile lawsuit involving Cornell University has renewed scrutiny of how colleges and universities handle reports of sexual assault, particularly when outside law enforcement declines to pursue criminal charges. The case raises a central question: can legal action against a university actually force the kind of systemic changes that make campuses safer for students?
To understand the legal landscape, NPR spoke with Baine Kerr, a retired Title IX attorney who built a national reputation litigating precedent-setting civil rights and campus sexual assault cases. Kerr explained that federal law imposes clear and comprehensive obligations on universities the moment they become aware of an allegation.
According to Kerr, once a university receives notice of a sexual assault report, it must take action. That action includes conducting an investigation in coordination with law enforcement. Crucially, he said, if outside police authorities or prosecutors choose not to act, the university's responsibilities do not disappear. The institution must still proceed on its own.
Kerr outlined what that process entails. Universities are required to hold hearings and impose disciplinary measures against individuals found through that process to have committed sexual wrongdoing. These requirements form what he described as a very comprehensive set of obligations, and he noted that universities are extremely well aware of them.
Beyond investigations and hearings, Title IX also mandates preventive education. Kerr pointed to orientation requirements for incoming freshmen as one example. Every new student must attend a session designed to train them in sexual assault prevention, a mandate that applies across institutions receiving federal funding.
Despite these requirements, the persistence of sexual assault on campuses remains a pressing concern. Asked why the existing framework has not done enough to shift campus culture, Kerr characterized the effort as a constant battle. He attributed part of the challenge to the natural churn of university life.
Students leave after four years or fewer, and new students arrive each year, meaning awareness and norms must be rebuilt continuously. That turnover makes it difficult to establish lasting cultural change, even when policies and training programs are in place. Each incoming class essentially starts fresh, requiring sustained effort rather than one-time fixes.
The Cornell lawsuit fits into a broader pattern of litigation that has sought to hold universities accountable when their responses to sexual assault reports are seen as inadequate. Such cases often aim not only at individual outcomes but at forcing institutions to revise policies, improve investigation procedures, and strengthen support systems for survivors.
Kerr's comments suggest that the legal obligations themselves are not ambiguous. The question is whether enforcement, compliance, and institutional commitment match what the law demands. When prosecutors step back, universities cannot use that as a reason to stand down, according to his reading of Title IX.
That distinction matters for survivors. A criminal case requires proof beyond a reasonable doubt and the cooperation of prosecutors, while a university disciplinary process operates under different standards and procedures. This means a survivor who cannot obtain justice through the criminal system may still have a path through the campus process.
At the same time, critics have long argued that university hearings can be inconsistent, poorly handled, or subject to competing pressures. Institutions must balance the rights of the accused with the safety of the accuser, a tension that has made campus sexual assault one of the most contested areas in higher education policy.
The Cornell case could serve as a test of whether courts are willing to demand more concrete changes. Lawsuits can result in settlements that require specific reforms, such as updated training, revised investigative protocols, or improved reporting mechanisms. Whether those changes translate into measurably safer campuses is harder to guarantee.
Kerr's perspective implies that the legal framework already provides tools for accountability. What may be missing is consistent execution. Training for incoming students, timely investigations, coordination with police, and disciplinary hearings are all required pieces, yet gaps in any one of them can undermine the whole system.
For universities, the stakes extend beyond legal liability. Reputation, student trust, and federal funding all depend on demonstrating a serious commitment to addressing sexual violence. A lawsuit like the one involving Cornell can force administrators to confront shortcomings they might otherwise overlook or delay addressing.
Ultimately, the answer to whether litigation can make students safer may depend on how broadly its effects ripple. A single case can produce policy changes at one institution, but broader cultural shifts require sustained attention across the entire higher education landscape, including the constant education of each new class of students.
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