The revelations of the past week have shaken Brown’s campus and will undoubtedly continue to send shockwaves as time progresses. As evidenced by the #moneytalksatbrown movement and social media campaigns, Brown’s internal justice system is increasingly perceived as a paragon of injustice and unfairness. I can’t imagine being a victim in a case like this one. The emotional and physical trauma of sexual assault is something that nobody should have to go through, especially when the details of a case are so public.
We are, however, in an era defined by narratives and quick judgements that can encompass discussion of emotionally charged issues. Narratives matter. They are definitional, informative and important in establishing how we interface with the world. But they can be all-encompassing. Privilege and power dynamics matter, but they do not necessarily mean that somebody is guilty.
As a freshman at Brown, one of the first things I learned was the power of narratives. In a first year seminar taught by Senior Lecturer in Education Luther Spoehr called “The Campus on Fire,” I learned about the issues of the 1960s by examining college campuses and considering the ways in which these micro-cultures distilled larger social issues and brought them to the forefront of national dialogue. Spoehr taught us, through the free speech movement at the University of California at Berkeley, that when we allow our preconceived ideas to define narratives, we open ourselves to rushed judgements and inaccurate conclusions.
Undoubtedly, we are the consumers of narrative language, and this isn’t healthy for anyone. In some cases, like the recent University of Virginia case that was featured in a discredited Rolling Stone article, the factual truth of the story wasn’t the only thing that mattered. There is still the amorphous conception that fraternities facilitate sexual assault. Though not all fraternities are responsible for sustaining predatory environments, that perception was so salient it went without challenge.
We are still feeling the repercussions and trying to understand the inner workings of “privileged” all-male circles. Fraternities are invariably responsible for these notions and are therefore responsible for challenging them. They need to work on altering the public perception that fraternities are elitist, racist promulgators of exclusivity. But not all fraternities are the same, and we need to use specific examples rather than widespread classifications.
Conceptions of justice at Brown have changed. Money clearly matters, and its perception as a driving force matters too; the school needs to work on addressing this issue. But we should not rush to judge an individual simply because of his background, financial privilege and fraternity membership, view them as markers of guilt and allow that narrative to dominate. This is problematic and contrary to what I believe is a key pillar of Brown and what I have learned here: the importance of nuance and challenging dominant narratives.
Societally, it is important to question the facts of a situation before drawing conclusions. We must remember and understand that there are human faces and identities behind those involved in the most recent claims. Regardless of guilt or innocence, there has been undeniable psychological harm done to all parties — including the accused — by the school and by us, the consumers of narrative.
This case is particularly tragic because the damage extends beyond those immediately affected: For many people, trust in Brown’s ability to handle serious cases is largely gone. I fear for women who have to overcome an incredible burden of proof — not only legal but also social. But I also hope that we as members of the Brown community do not devolve into demonizing individuals who may not be guilty based on incomplete information about what happened and without a discussion of individualized motives and a clear understanding about the opaque nature of the testing.
Wealth and power are not necessarily guilt. Mass opinion of guilty until proven innocent is very problematic, especially in the context of two different people.
In a March 9 article, The Herald reported on campus reaction to one of the accused student’s financial ties to the school. But until this issue is further investigated, it is only a question and not a conclusion.
But the question itself has raised salient points. Undergraduate Council of Students President Maahika Srinivasan ’15 argues that money played a role given that the student who allegedly served a drink with GHB has a team of two lawyers, whereas one of the complainants “doesn’t even have a lawyer.” Though I do not think that someone who has been accused of administering GHB has any choice but to employ professional lawyers, Srinivasan’s point is well-taken. In cases of such extreme importance, why are we not providing practitioners of the law for both sides? Columbia, after a major controversy of its own, is no beacon for justice in the realm of sexual assault, but the school now provides access to legal counsel for both parties in cases of sexual assault. In order to ensure that complex cases are handled with greater care, they should include at least some semblance of a professional legal structure, because what we currently have clearly failed everyone.
I do not have all the answers. I do, however, believe that the people perpetuating the concept that money and privilege equal guilt do not either. Before rushing to narratives that dominate public opinion, it is necessary that we understand a fundamental idea that the truth depends on where we sit.
Graham Rotenberg ’17 can be reached at graham_rotenberg@brown.edu.
