A lawsuit involving Cornell University is raising fresh questions about whether the legal system can compel colleges and universities to do more to protect students from sexual assault, and whether such cases can force meaningful changes to campus culture.
The case has drawn attention to the obligations that institutions face under Title IX, the federal law that prohibits sex-based discrimination in education programs receiving federal funding. Those obligations exist independently of the criminal justice system, meaning a university's responsibilities do not disappear simply because prosecutors decline to bring charges.
To understand what the law requires, NPR spoke with Baine Kerr, a retired Title IX attorney who gained national recognition for litigating precedent-setting civil rights and campus sexual assault cases. Kerr explained that the rules governing universities are extensive and that schools are well aware of what is expected of them.
According to Kerr, the process begins the moment a university receives notice of an allegation. Once that notice exists, the institution must take action. That action includes conducting an investigation and coordinating with law enforcement, a requirement that reflects the expectation that campuses and outside authorities work together rather than in isolation.
Yet Kerr emphasized that the involvement of police or prosecutors is not a prerequisite for the university's own obligations. Even if outside law enforcement agencies or district attorneys choose not to pursue a case, the school's duties remain fully intact. The institution must still proceed with its own process.
A central part of that process is the holding of hearings. Through those proceedings, universities are expected to reach determinations about whether the conduct at issue occurred. When wrongdoers are identified through the hearing process as having committed sexual wrongs, disciplinary action must follow.
Kerr described this as a comprehensive set of requirements rather than a loose set of guidelines. He noted that universities are acutely aware of the scope of their responsibilities under Title IX, which suggests that failures to meet those obligations are not typically the result of ignorance about the rules.
Beyond investigations and hearings, Title IX also imposes preventive and educational mandates. Kerr pointed to orientation programs for incoming freshmen as one clear example. Federal requirements call for new students to receive training about campus sexual assault, and every incoming freshman is expected to attend a session designed to teach sexual assault prevention.
The existence of these mandates raises a difficult question: why, despite years of requirements, training, and enforcement, does sexual violence remain so prevalent on college campuses? Kerr characterized the problem as a constant battle rather than a challenge that can be resolved once and for all.
Part of the difficulty, he suggested, lies in the structure of campus communities themselves. Student populations turn over rapidly, with people leaving after four years or fewer and new people arriving to take their place. That steady churn means institutional knowledge and cultural norms must be rebuilt and reinforced continuously.
The Cornell lawsuit fits into a broader national conversation about how effective legal action can be in changing institutional behavior. Lawsuits can force specific reforms, establish accountability, and clarify the scope of a school's duties. Whether they can alter the deeper cultural dynamics that contribute to sexual violence is a more complicated question.
Advocates have long argued that compliance with procedural requirements alone does not guarantee safety. Investigations and hearings address individual cases after the fact, while prevention efforts aim to stop harm before it occurs. Both elements are required under the law, but their effectiveness depends on how seriously institutions implement them.
For universities, the stakes extend beyond legal liability. Schools face pressure from students, parents, regulators, and the public to demonstrate that reported assaults are taken seriously and that survivors are supported through the process.
Kerr's account underscores that the legal framework places the burden on institutions to act, regardless of what happens in the criminal system. A decision by prosecutors not to file charges does not release a university from its duty to investigate, hold hearings, and impose discipline where warranted.
That principle is likely to remain at the center of debates over the Cornell case and others like it. If courts or settlements produce new requirements, they could ripple across higher education, influencing how schools design their Title IX offices, train staff, and communicate with students.
Still, the persistence of the problem suggests that legal obligations and orientation sessions alone may not be sufficient. The battle Kerr describes is one that unfolds every year, as new students arrive and campuses must find ways to translate policy into practice.
Ultimately, the question posed by the Cornell lawsuit is whether litigation can do more than assign responsibility after harm has occurred. The answer may depend less on what the law requires, which is already extensive, than on whether institutions consistently carry out those requirements in ways that change behavior and protect students.
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