Abstract
Campbell et al. provided a candid summary of a long-term strategic plan to address relationship violence and sexual misconduct (RVSM) at Michigan State University (MSU). Coming in the aftermath of a national scandal and public outcry regarding MSU's lack of response to RVSM on its campus, the authors describe a coordinated university community response to understanding the prevalence of RVSM on campus, developing policy to respond to RVSM, and reestablishing community and survivor trust. In this commentary, we explore the innovations and sustainability of MSU's strategic plan and its potential replicability at other institutions of higher learning.
We are grateful to Campbell and her colleagues for their description of an innovative and collaborative strategic plan to address relationship violence and sexual misconduct (RVSM) at Michigan State University (MSU). Following international media attention from the trial of Larry Nassar and survivors’ as well as community outrage regarding how MSU handled reports of RVSM incidents, the university strategically invested in a long-term plan, entitled “Know More, Do More, Support More,” to address RVSM at the university. Campbell et al. describe this strategic plan as a collaborative and inclusive process among students, faculty, staff, community organizers, and activists. This strategic plan is particularly concerned with the representation of diversity and marginalized populations that have been hurt or felt they had no voice within the university with regard to RVSM. Campbell et al. describe this multitiered and layered plan for restorative justice and healing within the MSU community in great detail, presenting an innovative strategic plan which is a commendable model of collaborative and intentional support and advocacy for RVSM survivors across institutions of higher education (IHEs).
We applaud the authors for emphasizing and lobbying for an increase in prevention and intervention training and resources (as evidenced, for example, by the significant increase in staff in the Office of Civil Rights and Title IX Education); however, we question whether the training and delivery of this initiative have been evaluated for efficacy. In other words, does the increase in training and resources matter? Has it changed the culture of the campus, the feelings of the survivors who felt unseen/unheard, and is this the most effective method to facilitate prevention and intervention awareness? If MSU is not measuring that, how does it know? While there has recently been an influx of empirical research on both public health prevention and responses to campus sexual assault (SA), significant gaps still exist in our knowledge regarding the effectiveness of training and policies implemented to address legislative mandates (McMahon et al., 2019). To be sure, studies that assess how well students actually understand such training and that empirically address how effective it is, are extremely limited (see, e.g., Newins et al., 2018; Newins & White, 2018).
We also commend Campbell et al. for stressing the importance of considering hierarchical challenges of power when undertaking a sensitive strategic plan such as the Know More, Do More, Support More, initiative. They described protections that were put in place to insulate nontenured personnel and nonfull faculty who served on the workgroup. This is very important, as there is potential for untenured instructors, females, racial/ethnic minorities, and lower rank (e.g., associate professor) faculty to become targets when they undertake such politically charged work and to suffer retaliation when they actively engage in advocating for significant systemic change within the university structure—especially if there is pushback from upper administration or system-level leaders. Campbell and the authors acknowledged this power dynamic and the potential threat to the job security of certain workgroup members. Therefore, the MSU workgroup selected individuals with the greatest academic freedom protections (i.e., tenure, full rank faculty) to advocate (and who vocally argued) for support and policy changes from MSU's leadership. At the same time, the wisdom of choosing tenure-protected faculty also limits the public voices and representation of members of the university community who may have been hurt or violated by those who see them as lacking power and protection. It is a double-edged sword at times to create spaces that are safe for the most vulnerable among our academic communities to be able to share their stories and to report those who may be predatory.
A critical concern we noted for the Know More, Do More, Support More, initiative at MSU is its impact on staff and support personnel's workload. Coming out of the time of COVID shutdowns, we face a period of unchartered territory where faculty and staff are being pushed out of healthy boundaries on workload and reporting high burnout and stress (Chronicle of Higher Education, 2020). If we are asking for a coordinated response within the university that is continually working on strategies and assessment of outcomes, how should we compensate for or adjust workload to accommodate for intensive service work for these types of initiatives? For MSU's workgroup, where group members offered course buyouts on teaching or relief from other administrative duties for taking on this major service role? We would imagine service on MSU's strategic plan workgroup required a significant amount of work from its members. How do we get upper-level administrators (e.g., deans, provosts, presidents, trustees, etc.) to support this recognition of hard work and value of such service? What would Campbell et al. recommend as appropriate compensation (or reallocation) for service and/or service acknowledgment to other IHEs who are contemplating replication of the MSU initiative? Has MSU made the RVSM workgroup a standing committee (rather than ad hoc) under Academic/Faculty Senate bylaws, where members are appointed or elected university-wide for a term of years, as a way to both formalize and quantify the service obligation and demonstrate the university's long-term commitment to this initiative?
A major strength of this work is that this was a data-driven project. Results of the Know More climate survey revealed a large percentage of students, faculty, and staff self-reported RVSM victimization, with a concerning portion of this occurring on MSU's campus. Not surprising to researchers of RVSM, only a very small portion of victims of RVSM at MSU indicated they reported their assault to police (including campus police), the Title IX office, or other officials. This statistic is a proxy for the lack of trust between the university community, administration, and/or policing officials at MSU in their ability to investigate and respond to RVSM victimization. This is not an issue specific to MSU, but a consistent issue that is plaguing universities across the country (Richards, 2019; White House Task Force to Protect Students from Sexual Assault [White House Task Force], 2014c). The disparities between self-reports of RVSM incidents and reporting these incidents to officials also demonstrate the struggle that victims experience with fear of retaliation and victim-blaming from intimate others and institutional entities when considering what they should do about their victimization and whether they should report it. For survivors, the only two things they control in their journey and experiences are who they tell and how they cope with their trauma.
Data from the Know More climate survey also led to several questions for the authors here. The response rate for the initial climate survey (RTI International, 2019) at MSU ranged between 15.0% and 41.8% for subgroups of students, faculty, and staff by sex. We wondered if this was the desired or expected response rate, given all of the factors Campbell et al. cited on institutional and outside funding support. While the response rates in the Know More climate survey were consistent with national campus climate surveys (e.g., The Association of American Universities [AAU], 2020), less than one-quarter (15,000 out of 62,000) of the MSU campus responded to the initial climate survey. With the vigorous and public administrative support and representativeness of the workgroup, did they expect a higher response rate? An ongoing challenge for researchers doing Title IX research in university settings is that newly victimized persons commonly do not respond to these surveys (or are at risk of not responding) because they are in trauma. It is possible the rate of RVSM victimization is much higher than what was reported and the gap between victimization incidents and official reports is much wider at MSU than reported? In addition, university communities often experience greater survey fatigue/rejection because universities often oversurvey their students, faculty, and staff. How would Campbell et al. recommend other universities deal with this consequence when considering replicating the strategies described in the Know More, Do More, Support More, initiative? How did they incentivize participation beyond the rewards of having one's story told?
We commend the MSU initiative for being transparent with the process and reports generated from the campus climate study and making this information easily accessible online for internal and external review. This is a blueprint for others doing research on RVSM and facilitates both replication and open discussion of methodology, findings, and accountability. Without question, the ready availability of the Know More survey information and workgroup activities on various MSU websites allows for the download of survey information and replicability, as well as criticisms on methods and results and discussion regarding public policy and campus and community feedback. Such actions promote trust in these data and in the collaborative process that has been created. This is the epitome of a truly coordinated community response (CCR) model that addresses RVSM holistically.
For several years now, intense media coverage of highly publicized aggravated SA cases has brought public pressure for transparency and accountability of offenders on college campuses. Major charges of various groups, such as the White House Council on Women and Girls and the Task Force to Protect Students from SAs (White House Task Force, 2014a, 2014b), were to provide IHEs with trauma-informed tools, strategies, and information to inform effective responses and prevention for SA on campuses to facilitate the development of robust sexual violence policies. Yet, questions remain about the safety and openness of reporting on campuses across the country. A substantial challenge to the transparent MSU model presented by Campbell et al. is that many other IHEs would not permit this level of transparency and survey/data sharing, as other IHEs may not be pressured by university stakeholders (e.g., alumni, boosters, students, faculty, community members) for such a level of transparency following a sensationalized scandal. Therefore, we wondered, how Campbell et al. would recommend others wishing to replicate MSU's model at their university could get administrative and university buy-in for developing and publicizing a similar program—especially in the absence of a campus crisis like that experienced at MSU?
We applaud the workgroup for Know More, Do More, Support More, for thinking “outside the box” when confronted with rigid university policies and procedures. While unsuccessful in revising MSU's mandatory reporting Title IX procedures to provide exemptions for reporting, the workgroup created alternative pathways for survivors to find safe spaces to report and ensure their confidentiality. Creating a safe space for victims to maintain confidentiality is important because victims often feel they control very little regarding their victimization, except their ability to tell their story and their choice about how they cope with their trauma. Relatedly, we also commend the team at MSU for developing a comprehensive strategic plan and survey that were trauma-centered and victim-focused in keeping with best practices, acknowledging the mistakes and damage to the larger community and marginalized subpopulations. This is noteworthy since, as just one example of many, sexual violence and related issues may be considered taboo among Black communities and within other communities/cultures of color (Hattery, 2009). Adding to the complexities regarding forms of interpersonal violence and race is the argument that the voices of Black women largely go unheard (Potter, 2015). The MSU initiative publicly acknowledged the lack of trust and the many years of systemic failures that had fostered a culture of silence and distrust on the MSU campus, and within communities of color, in particular, regarding RVSM perpetrators.
While these efforts are laudable, a key question remains whether this effort is sustainable. Is this a replicable model for other IHEs? According to Campbell and her colleagues, MSU received grants from the Victims of Crime Act and Violence Against Women Act programs and discretionary funds from the MSU President's Office to fund the creation of additional staff positions for crisis response at their Center for Survivors. MSU also restructured its university to create a new Prevention, Outreach, and Education Department under the newly created MSU Office of Civil Rights. There are few large national grants to support this type of initiative (especially without a major controversy or media event about sexual violence on campus), and the pool of grants continues to shrink and become more competitive. When the grants and discretionary funds donated by MSU's current president to support newly created staff lines end, how will MSU continue to fund the new staff lines and educational/training efforts? Has MSU earmarked general fund dollars or other major funds from its budget to ensure the long-term sustainability of this project? What happens when the administration changes and a new president no longer view RVSM as a top priority, or another hot issue, such as academic bullying, comes to the forefront of the administration's attention and requires funds currently being used for the RVSM initiative? How would IHEs in states that have university systems that are much larger than in Michigan—such as California and Texas—model this initiative? How do smaller schools that are facing fewer and/or declining enrollments, less funding from state appropriations, and dire needs of students, faculty, and staff coming out of COVID to get this RVSM model to the top of their university's priority list? Again, while the MSU workgroup may not be able to answer all these questions for other IHEs, we believe these are key considerations for other IHEs to ponder as they explore duplication of the efforts and CCR developed at MSU.
Two additional issues came to mind when reading Campbell et al.'s article. First, a contemporary challenge to the replication of MSUs, and similar, RVSM initiative is potential external resistance from legislators and external stakeholders. Currently, 36 states have introduced or enacted state legislation that prohibits open discussion and support within public institutions regarding critical race, lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer/questioning, intersex, and asexual/agender (LGBTQIA+), and feminist topics that address how policies, procedures, and legislation condone and perpetuate systemic racism within public institutions; another 17 states have or will consider expanding educational curriculum on systemic racism, inequities, and historical treatment of ethnic minorities (Stout & Wilburn, 2022). Summoning from the template per the Trump Executive Order 13950 (which was subsequently kiboshed by President Biden upon taking office) forbidding federal agencies and contractors from perpetuating policies across nine concepts based on race or sex, much continues to be debated about what this new state legislation means to academic freedom, research, and speech within and outside academic classrooms. Consequently, there is the potential for conflict between state legislators—who affect state budget appropriations to IHEs—and a university implementing an RVSM initiative like Know More, Do More, Support More. How do researchers, community allies, and activists trying to hold IHEs and university community members accountable for sexual violence on campuses move forward on these issues and get support from state legislation in states with conflicting agendas? Arguably, effective RVSM initiatives in IHEs will have to consider race/ethnicity, LGBTQIA+, and gender status when developing strategic plans and policies, offering training and educational opportunities, and evaluating efficacy, and controversies continue about what these new laws mean and how they will impact IHEs and the professors that teach/research in these areas (Minowitz, 2022).
Lastly, with regard to the Know More, Do More, Support More, initiative at MSU, we wonder how has the university addressed the larger public health concern regarding the comorbidity of RVSM trauma and other mental health issues? Mental health needs have become a central prioritized focus for health initiatives across IHEs, with mental health challenges to faculty, students, and staff increasingly recognized as an issue of focus in the 2022 Survey of College and University Chief Academic Officers (Jaschik, 2022). As well documented during the COVID-era within academia and in federal publications, the magnification of health inequities is further highlighted within populations who have suffered concentrated disadvantage or marginalization experiences (Loya, 2014; Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration [SAMHSA], 2022). These populations experience an increased risk of SA (Bent-Goodley, 2007) and programming requires sensitivity to these issues. Moreover, mental health services traditionally offered to students at IHEs have been heavily taxed during and after COVID (National Academies of Sciences, Engineering and Medicine, 2021). Many IHEs are struggling to keep up with student demand for mental health services on campus, and creating university initiatives that further burden these systems may be calamitous without an infusion of additional staff, more physical space, and increased funding.
Although some of these issues seem overwhelming and complex, it is absolutely necessary for the work to continue on our college campuses that have been undertaken by the MSU workgroup. Their work is inclusive, innovative, diverse-sensitive, and inclusionary; it inspires transformational change, transparency, and accountability in spaces that have lacked these qualities for many years. We look forward to assessments that explore the efficacy of these efforts on the Michigan State campus and to lessons learned that can help inform other communities in need of such leadership and vision.
Footnotes
Authors’ Note
The opinions and views expressed in this manuscript are solely those of the authors and do not reflect the official positions of any university affiliation.
Declaration of Conflicting Interests
The authors declared no potential conflicts of interest with respect to the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
Funding
The authors received no financial support for the research, authorship, and/or publication of this article.
