This forthcoming request from The Minaret is a general challenge to our readers. The incident that we covered regarding Rashad Callaway is what initially got us to begin thinking about many of the larger issues in this week’s edition.
Of course, it is important to stress that Callaway was never charged with rape, sexual assault or any crime related to this case in a court of law, as police investigators decided there was not enough evidence.
It should also be made clear that at the school hearings, Callaway was found responsible only for ‘sexual misconduct,’ a vague umbrella term that includes everything from flashing to sexual assault (details of exactly what type of sexual misconduct were not available), and that UT’s system, while having far-reaching powers over consequences in the university community, does not function as a criminal courtroom.
Nonetheless, we believe that by telling the story of Callaway’s incident, we would be able to shed greater light on many broader issues that are of principal importance to our campus.
Before we issue our challenge, we first want to explain to our readers how we decided to handle the story, in an attempt to establish a mutual trust.
We have grappled, literally for months, over how to handle and present this story, and we feel that we have done as good of a job as possible in covering all sides of the story while focusing on the broader issues that we feel are important.
Yet perhaps our toughest decision as a staff was opting to run Rashad Callaway’s name in print. Again, we must emphasize that Callaway has never been charged with a crime, much less found guilty of one. And we do not at all mean to imply that Callaway himself fits into any of the generalized statistics or trends that we’ve mentioned in the issue.
What we know for sure about Callaway is that he was found responsible for sexual misconduct by a UT administrative board, which purportedly functions for our safety and education, and that this verdict was not overturned during his appeal.
After a discussion again this week that lasted for hours, we came to a consensus that Callaway’s status as both a freshman and an athlete were germane enough to the story that we felt we had to run his name or risk libeling others in the same group. For example, if his name was replaced with a general descriptor like ‘freshman’ or ‘student athlete’ or both, it would call into question all members of those groups.
We also chose not to run the victim’s name for reasons aside from Florida law, which can be interpreted to prohibit it. Though Callaway was able to question his accuser in his hearing, we recognize the inherent unfairness of an anonymous person publicly accusing another of a crime, but we feel the university community is better served by us not attempting to learn and then report her name. We did not want to discourage future victims from coming forward.
Just as we did not simply conceal the victim’s name merely because we’re legally supposed to do so, we did not run Callaway’s name solely because it’s a matter of public record and we’re able to.
Now, as The Harvard Crimson wrote while defending their policy of publishing names, ‘journalism is all about trust’hellip;but that trust runs in two directions.’
Therefore, we challenge our readers to grapple with the many issues involved with this story as we’ve grappled with them. We made a prolonged and conscious effort to engage with all aspects of the story, and not to rush to judgment. We hope that our readers will do the same.
Though we apologize that a prolonged investigation has caused further anguish to those involved, we hope we’ve put forth our best effort to present a holistic package that encourages reflection and introspection rather than stereotyping and rash judgments. But it will be all for nothing if the greater issues are lost in a wave of name-calling and choosing sides.
Try to reflect upon the broader picture, and what it might mean for UT if 162 of its students are indeed sexually assaulted this year, as national averages imply. The person on whom you are passing judgment is likely to be a friend, a loved one, a classmate or even yourself.
‘He took away me. He stole me. He stole my identity. He stole my personality,’ said one victim at Kansas State. ‘I felt as if someone damaged my soul,’ explained another at the University of Cincinnati.
We don’t know a lot about what UT’s victims are saying, but we can all start paying more attention.