I think it is important to realize that there are impacts for reporting sexual harassment and assault on the accused but that they tend to be small and that in some cases the institutional response to the accuser, formal and informal, is extremely damaging. Anonymous reports are both more likely to protect you and less likely to lead to results. If you are a legally mandated reporter and a woman/ally (ie more likely to be told about incidents), you will find yourself in a difficult position; that said, I have not seen any sort of punishment for those who fail to report, suppress reports, or even lie about what they know. If you are a victim, line up all the social and other resources you can if you plan to report the incident. If you are an ally, tread very carefully, and seek legal advice.

I’m glad Justin pointed out that this is an act of remembering or describing rather than imagining. As a philosopher who supported survivors and advocates at more than 70 universities — mostly in the US, but one or two in the UK, in many different fields — between 2008 and 2019, I have a few thoughts.

First, some advice for advocates:  

1. If you haven’t done so already, read Sara Ahmed’s excellent book, Complaint!, which explains why doors are often closed on those who complain and describes the power of complaint collectives.
2. If the complainant (the person reporting to you) is the person who experienced the harassment directly, don’t tell them what to do. By directing or telling, you risk becoming part of the longer-term problem by further diminishing the complainant’s agency or autonomy. The extent to which a survivor is able to maintain or regain a sense of agency and autonomy, to make the world their own — or at least predictable — again, is a good predictor of the extent to which she, or he, or they, will be able to shift from being a “victim” to being a “survivor.” So instead of responding with an assertive “this is what you should (or should not) do,” research the options and impartially lay them out, with clear caveats about what you do and do not know.
3. Don’t try to equate or compare the experience of the complainant with your own, or with another experience you’ve heard about. Every experience is different. And co-opting the complainant’s experience by aggregating it into your own story — or anyone else’s — can diminish the complainant’s sense of autonomy.
4. Be prepared to do some deep listening. These experiences are often tangled with — or bring to the surface — a mess of other interconnected harms and forms of oppression. Be prepared to check all of your assumptions and simply spend time listening and repeating back what you’ve heard. If you’re not prepared to do so, for whatever reason, find someone who is.
5. Document everything. Not just what was said, but the date and time and location you heard it, the full names and contact information for anyone else who was present, etc. Encourage the complainant to do the same. Contemporaneous records are important — not just for keeping reporting and/or legal options open, but also for helping possible future complainants.
6. Don’t use “public” channels such as email or text or social media for communication. These can be subpoenaed. It’s better to use Skype or WhatsApp, which will allow the complainant (and you) to maintain a reasonable level of privacy. Violations of privacy can threaten autonomy.
7. Maintain confidentiality and transparency about who you are going to talk to. Again, a sense of privacy is an important part of regaining autonomy. If you are required to relay the report — if, for example, you are a mandated reporter — clearly explain exactly who you are going to tell, what you are going to say, and why. If you want to share the report with a colleague or someone else who can help, ask permission to do so first.
8. Check the Academic Sexual Misconduct Database to see if there are any related reports, including reports involving the same philosopher at a different university: https://academic-sexual-misconduct-database.org/ (And if you know of a publicly documented case that isn’t in this database, please send a message to [email protected].)
9. The options for complainants will vary hugely according to university policies, the politics and norms of the geographic location, the details of the incident(s), whether there are other complainants, and the kinds of evidence. Make sure you’re familiar with the whole range of possibilities, including going to the media with an anonymous (but vetted) report.
10. Don’t pressure the complainant to get over the problem or get back to work, but do provide systems of support. So, for example, consider inviting the complainant to a reading group, or suggesting serving as a panel moderator or co-presenting at a conference, or introducing them to a (ideally junior) philosopher at another university who can serve as a role model or source of inspiration.

Some advice for those who have been harassed:

1. You’re not alone. The 2018 NASEM study showed that over 58% of female faculty and staff members experience some form of sexual harassment during their careers. A 2019 AAU survey found that 24% of graduate and professional students reported being harassed by a faculty member or instructor. And the harassment is not limited to male faculty harassing women. A 2016 ARC3 survey found that 38% of female graduate students and 23.4% of male graduate students experienced sexual harassment from faculty or staff.
2. Some women are more male than the men. Don’t assume that just because a faculty member is female (or “feminist”) she will be an ideal confidante. Start by asking what someone’s reporting obligations are — and what their views are on sexual misconduct in academia. If you haven’t developed a healthy sense of skepticism and the habit of trying to figure out what makes other people tick — why they’re in the game, what they value, what their goals are — now is the time to start. Trust should be earned, not granted.
3. If you haven’t done so already, read Sara Ahmed’s book, Complaint!, which explains why doors are often closed on those who complain and describes the power of complaint collectives. Don’t perpetuate the cycle of abuse by trying to control others; seek counseling and whatever else you need to do to learn to be able to develop genuine and reciprocal bonds with others.
4. This does not need to define who you are. Being a victim, or a survivor, is a choice. You have no obligation to report and no obligation to educate others, particularly the oppressor(s). As Audre Lorde so memorably put it in a paper delivered at the Copeland Colloquium at Amherst College (reproduced in Sister Outsider), “Whenever the need for some pretense of communication arises, those who profit from our oppression call upon us to share our knowledge with them. In other words, it is the responsibility of the oppressed to teach the oppressors their mistakes… The oppressors maintain their position and evade responsibility for their own actions. There is a constant drain of energy which might be better used in redefining ourselves and devising realistic scenarios for altering the present and constructing the future.” Seek collectives, seek solidarity — especially in groups where there is no pretense of homogeneity. Lorde ended the same paper with a poem: “We have chosen each other / and the edge of each other’s battles / the war is the same / if we lose / someday women’s blood will congeal / upon a dead planet / if we win / there is no telling / we seek beyond history / for a new and more possible meeting.”

Thanks to Justin for this important discussion.

I dealt with multiple cases of sexual harassment/assault being ignored when I was at the University of Oregon. For those interested, one of the students, Laura Hanson, has written powerfully about the experience of her complaint being ignored after she was raped. Here is one of her discussions of that experience: https://eugeneweekly.com/2015/05/28/dragged-through-the-mud/

Heidi’s suggestions and those of others are all excellent. I would add a general point.

In the United States, sexual harassment/assault cases are handled by the college’s Title IX office, under its Title IX director. It is essential to understand that the principal job of this office/director is to defend the image of the institution–as distinct from the safety of students, etc. This was stressed to me by a former law student of mine, Ken Lehrman, who was Title IX director of Penn State during much of its problems. His exact words were: “The job of a Title IX director is to defend the university’s ‘brand’”—i.e. the first concern is public relations. The fate of students, the accountability of predators, etc.– all take second place to defending the “brand”. So if your complaint may end up hurting the “brand”, forget it. The system is loaded against you.

Upon finally realizing what a moral sewer the University of Oregon was, I began suggesting to complainants that they immediately speak to an attorney, and offered to help them do it. This is what happened in Laura Hanson’s case. When she sued the university, its response was to rifle through her confidential counseling records to dig up dirt on her. She eventually won, and the university was forced to change its policies on counseling records after the head of the counseling center resigned in protest.

Have you been victimized? Are you a victim/survivor? If so, put yourself first and prioritize what you need to do to keep it together and get through this moment of your life which may seem like an unending nightmare. With respect to the situation that you find yourself in now, you don’t owe anything to anyone. You don’t owe it to anyone to report. You aren’t obligated to demand that your harasser/assailant/institution provide an apology, offer acknowledgment of harm done, or compensate you. You certainly owe nothing to the institution, which will want you gone. Nor do you owe anything to philosophy and other philosophers. Under neoliberalism, taking space and time for yourself can be a radical political act.
 
If you do report, it is likely to go badly for you (take it from me). When this happens, and if you feel as if your life has fallen/is falling apart around you, it may well be the case that it has/is and you will need to find ways to deal with that; that is, you may very well be on your own with respect to how to resurrect your career; how to restore your self-esteem, your sense of self-worth, and your confidence in the importance of your contributions to philosophy; as well as how to endure living on a low(er) income/in poverty if you lost your job. Perhaps you will need to relocate to a different city, move to a smaller residence, or move in with family or friends. Hold your head high. You can do whatever you must. Feel no shame or embarrassment. Don’t give your harasser/assailant/institution more control over you than they have already taken. But, also, don’t expect anyone in the field/profession to help you. Don’t expect unconditional support from your colleagues, teachers, or fellow students. You are unlikely to receive it, especially if you are (for example) disabled, “uppity,” not deferential enough, don’t have a prestigious educational background, are working class, aren’t unambiguously heterosexual, or have expressed unpopular opinions in a public forum.
 
Myself, I have found relief and recovery in writing, blogging, journaling, building a community of disabled philosophers, solitude, one-on-one counseling, and even mundane tasks that provide distraction, such as laundry. Thus, consider making an appointment with a counsellor or therapist, ideally someone with a feminist analysis of the events and trauma with which you may be grappling. If you don’t have the salary and health insurance coverage of a fulltime faculty member, doing so may require considerable investigative effort on your part. Consult your city’s sexual assault/rape crisis centre, local feminist/women’s resource centre and health clinics, and your GP (if you have one) for referrals or onsite arrangements. Many feminist and other left-leaning therapists and counsellors have sliding scales for payment (i.e., you negotiate the fee; you pay what you can) for at least a certain period of time. Even if you hold certain beliefs (as I do) that urge you to avoid subjectifying yourself in a confessional mode, as Foucault would put it, you may find it a reprieve that there is a safe place where you can go to talk, yell, cry, or sit in silence.
 
Yours in solidarity and struggle.