Amidst the second week of classes, the University released its 2024 Annual Security Report on Sept. 4 — a 32-page document attached to a student-wide email. On the sixth page, a chart — ever so considerately shaded in a gradient of grays — greets readers with wholesome news: 28 reports of rape, 22 cases of fondling and a whopping 82 incidents of Violence Against Women Act offenses, which include stalking, domestic violence and dating violence — some of which are the highest statistics within the past six years. Silently and shamefully, Cornell sweeps these numbers into our inboxes under the guise of performative care and activism; yet by doing so, it fails all of us with its idleness and lack of actual, palpable change.
This report is the product of the Jeanne Clery Act: a consumer protection law that commands transparency of crime data and policies on college campuses across the country; amongst its various mandates is that universities report all campus crime statistics. Institutions seem to think that posting a report – a PDF of winding paragraphs that is most likely suffocating in the pile of stressed inboxes of students and faculty – is enough. Yet is the institution truly addressing the issue or simply not neglecting it? While Cornell did fulfill its legal obligation, what did it, along with other universities, truly accomplish? The answer is nothing much. Cornell tried to hide a trove of frightening statistics in a dense, unreadable document.
The report unveils a troubling spike in sexual assault and VAWA offenses that took place on campus in the past year, with a significant increase in stalking and rape cases. Stark and simple, however, the report seems to instead strip away the humanity, vulnerability and gravity from such incidents; they are reduced to mere numbers – splotches of ink printed on paper. Ironically, the very act of reporting these statistics clashes with its intention of highlighting the severity of these crimes, yet to what end does it actually memorialize them?
As I first perused through the report, I was of course shocked and dismayed by the alarmingly high numbers of sex crimes that all took place in the very halls and streets I stroll through every day. To think that behind the data could be faces of students who perhaps could have taken the same classes with me, waited in Libe for an afternoon coffee or crammed for an exam the night before as we all have done is simply rattling and distressing – to say the very least.
Yet, the concern, fear, disappointment and the accompanying urgency were quickly vanquished by the unforgiving rush of student life — relentless pings of emailing professors, a text message from my roommate, or awaiting organic chemistry homework just a tab away. Life continues, and the report — along with all it represents — is overrun by a tide of to-dos and tasks.
In fact, Eric Reilly’s news article that covered the annual report mustered 1,368 views in the first 20 days it was published. In contrast, the most popular story boasted 22,000 views in the same amount of time – about 16 times more than the former. This data demonstrates how the University as a whole might share my initial reception of the report; a skim of the article’s headline is sufficient for a headshake of distress or furrowed brows before being swallowed up by other headlines or flashy graphics.
As a woman and Cornellian, what am I to do with these printed digits? As felt with most sex crimes, a sense of helplessness lingers, accompanied by loneliness; there is no direct answer as to what we as individuals can do for our own safety except arm ourselves with pepper spray, avoid walking back alone past midnight, drown out noise with music-pumping headphones or have our phones clutched in our hands case of an emergency. The answer, it seems, is to just hope for the best.
In one of my English classes, I read German writer Hermann Hesse’s Siddhartha — a novel about a man’s many-lives-long quest to grasp at enlightenment and truth of the self in the era of Gautama Buddha. As both the protagonist and readers embark on this journey of the spirit and sin, Hesse raises the question of whether mere knowledge is enough to reach enlightenment. The answer: it is not. Instead, his overlying argument is that only through experience can one truly learn and reach fulfillment in life.
Of course, the book of Siddhartha and the Annual Safety Report are worlds drastically apart, and I certainly do not believe one should experience falling victim to any crime on campus to understand the gravity of the situation. However, Hesse’s philosophy does raise a question: how truly effective are these numbers — this data, this knowledge — flashing before my eyes on my laptop screen at 6 p.m. on a Sunday? Could progress even stem from such reports?
Some may argue that mere acknowledgement is the first step to progress. After 34 years of reporting such crimes, however, the promise of improved safety rings hollow as we all witness the increase of these very offenses. Yes, we may all read the same report, the same numbers, the same color blocked chart and the same percentages, but why doesn’t this information influence profound change? It seems to fall on deaf ears.
Information alone is not enough, and I fear it never will be. Cornell, send out more than just an email with the annual report attached to it; explain to concerned students why a place of education and equality is teeming with discrimination and crimes; pay for more lights on campus so late-night studiers, such as myself, can feel more at ease on the journey home. Such progress can only be pursued if the University as a whole — administration and students — actually begin to care. We have acknowledged the issue, but what comes after? That is what we must all ask ourselves.
Serin Koh is a fourth year student in the College of Arts and Sciences. Her fortnightly column And That’s the Skoop explores student, academic and social culture, as well as national issues, at Cornell. She can be reached at [email protected].
The Cornell Daily Sun is interested in publishing a broad and diverse set of content from the Cornell and greater Ithaca community. We want to hear what you have to say about this topic or any of our pieces. Here are some guidelines on how to submit. And here’s our email: [email protected].