CW: sexual harassment
Maybe it’s the American in me but when I think of an investigation, or at the very least an arrest, my mind flashes to the Miranda Rights. I’m sure you can think of a scene in a movie or TV show – “You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.” It’s a famous script, one that we could all probably parrot, and I’ve perhaps naively believed the same right existed here. There does not exist a true equivalent here in England, as “police caution” suggests that staying silent, though one may choose to do so, can harm your defence. Looking into the new Statute XI policies, which deal with student misconduct and discipline in the 2025/2026 Oxford Student Handbook, this pattern is echoed here: “You have the right to not answer any question, but such silence will be taken into consideration in any subsequent disciplinary hearing.”
Talk about damning. Or, at the very least, confusing. Regardless, this is just one aspect of the Statute XI changes instituted by the University. Others include newly established jurisdiction for the University to conduct independent investigations – without having to wait for the police to conclude its own investigation first – if there is belief that misconduct has occurred or an individual is “likely” to cause harm. At first glance, these changes may be a push towards greater accountability, but in truth, they blur the line between protection and punishment, instead encouraging an overreach of institutional power. In a time when universities worldwide are grappling with the implications of campus safety and freedom of speech, Statute XI’s latest amendments do more harm than good.
Research published in 2023 suggests that over half of Oxford students experienced some form of sexual harassment or misconduct within a single year. This is a massive issue. The University knows this; there exists a dedicated research study, OUR SPACE (Oxford Understanding Relationships, Sex, Power, Abuse, and Consent Experiences), to investigate the numbers, experiences, and impacts of sexual misconduct and harassment on campus. The Office of Students (OfS) is even running a 2025 local parallel survey to the National Student Survey (NSS) on sexual misconduct, and an independent research agency is overseeing the data collection and governance. These are serious efforts to create accountability and change and, as a researcher myself, I commend their prioritisation of safety, privacy, and anonymity.
But it’s no longer just about data collection and survey design. By expanding Statute XI to enable the University to initiate more internal investigations without a police complaint being filed, institutional power is now imbued with quasi-judicial power – leaving a system that can be unchecked, unbalanced, and unaccountable. Universities were never supposed to function as courts, and doing so runs the risk of turning justice into an arbitrary process.
Currently, the updates to Statute XI suggest that any alleged breach in conduct will be investigated by the Proctor’s Office, who hold the power to summon individuals, interview, gather evidence, and call upon witnesses as needed. Proctors act like officers, and misconduct can thus be defined as academic or non-academic in nature. Escalations to this protocol would then be taken to either the Proctors’ Disciplinary Hearing (PDH) or to the Student Disciplinary Panel (SDP), with PDH hearings only occurring if the student consents. The policy states that in “serious cases”, PDH options will not be offered, and instead, the Proctor investigation will be escalated directly to the SDP.
Proctors also have the wherewithal to impose “precautionary measures” on students during an ongoing investigation, such as preventing someone from entering a specific building. Whilst those who have restrictions placed on them can appeal, these new powers set the worrying precedent that proctors can take measures against students, not on the basis of what they have done, but what they might do.
Now, let’s think about this together. On what grounds can the University determine if someone is “likely” to cause harm? Or that certain precautionary measures are necessary? What kind of hops, skips, and jumps does someone need to make to arrive at such an assessment? Can you really tell me this is some sort of objective science? (It’s not, dear reader.)
This notion of “likelihood of harm”, that is, the risk of X happening when applied in this way, can only lead to one thing: subjective bias. Disparities in disciplinary action do exist, and the data shows that this type of bias can disproportionately affect black students.
Masquerading as a judicial system, too, does little to help the University handle its sexual misconduct problem. If anything, we get much closer to administrative paternalism, where judgement becomes the currency, and decisions are now being made on perceived risk and likelihood of crime. This results in some being considered as worthy of protection and others being labelled as a threat, which all becomes even more concerning when considering the recent influx of protests and debates on freedom of speech on campuses worldwide. Encouraging this type of judicial overreach begs the question: will students now have to self-censor for fear of being perceived as “likely” to cause harm?
Murky investigation procedures, in the name of justice, have already shown to be ineffective at Cambridge, where new procedures for sexual misconduct were to follow civil (“balance of probabilities”) as opposed to criminal (“beyond a reasonable doubt”) standards of proof. But there is no real definitive approach to these “investigations”, ranging from email exchanges to actual evidence-gathering pursuits.
Though these Statute XI updates may have been intended to increase accountability, safety – and perhaps even protect victims from potentially retraumatising police investigation procedures – the University is now at a concerning crossroads. Safety becomes more about compliance, rather than community, wellbeing, and genuine support, with little transparency in procedure and a high likelihood for mislabelling a “threat”.
By, in some instances, allowing proctors to both prosecute the case and sit as judge, Statute XI warps administrative power, confusing justice with jurisdiction. The goal is to educate, not to adjudicate, and so if the University really is hellbent on dabbling in the art of jurisprudence, then we really do have a problem.
Editors note: This article reflects the opinion of the author, and not the editorial position of Cherwell. When contacted for comment, a University spokesperson said: “The changes to Statute XI, approved by Congregation, are designed to make disciplinary processes clearer, accessible and more effective. They were introduced to ensure that the University meets the appropriate regulatory requirements on harassment and sexual misconduct outlined by the Office for Students in Condition E6 – a condition of registration for higher education providers. The changes enhance the University’s ability to investigate serious misconduct and follow extensive consultation across the collegiate University, including with students via the Oxford SU. They also bring the University into alignment with many colleges as well as sector good practice guidance, including that set out by the Office for the Independent Adjudicator.”
