When a jury ordered the University of California to pay 8.6 million dollars to former UC Irvine researcher Rachel Crary
When a jury ordered the University of California to pay 8.6 million dollars to former UC Irvine researcher Rachel Crary in June 2025, it was punishing a familiar failure: the university knew a professor was harassing students, a second woman had reported nearly identical conduct, and it still did not act. But the deeper problem with Title IX at the University of California is not that the system is uniformly too lax or too harsh. It is that the severity of the process depends on who stands accused. The same institution that shields senior faculty comes down hard and fast on students. The leniency toward faculty is documented. At UC Berkeley, investigators found astronomer Geoffrey Marcy had violated the harassment policy repeatedly from 2001 to 2010 against at least four students, yet he received only a private warning and kept his job until public pressure forced his resignation in 2015. Law dean Sujit Choudhry, found to have repeatedly touched and kissed his assistant without consent, was penalized with a 10 percent cut to his 415,000 dollar salary and an order to apologize. A 2018 California State Auditor review found the leniency was structural: campuses took an average of 220 days to discipline faculty against 43 days for staff. Of 124 employees found to have violated policy over three years, roughly one third were still employed, with faculty routinely routed into an early resolution process that avoided formal sanction. For students, the same system runs the other way. UC Santa Barbara expelled a student it identified as John Doe without a hearing or any chance to confront his accuser, relying on an investigator who interviewed the parties separately. Santa Barbara County Superior Court Judge Donna Geck ordered him reinstated in December 2017 for violating the university's own procedures, and in August 2018 held UCSB in contempt after its appeals panel reissued a decision identical in every respect to the one the court had already rejected, forcing the university to vacate the finding entirely. The dispute kept Doe out of school for roughly 18 months. A separate Santa Barbara judge described a UCSB Title IX proceeding as arbitrary and unreasonable. The two records describe one process applied unequally. It can expel a student on an investigator's written summary while giving a tenured professor with a documented history a private warning, and it disciplines staff in about six weeks while taking seven months over faculty. That inconsistency is itself the fairness failure, because a credible process applies the same standard of proof, the same right to be heard, and the same timeline whether the accused is a freshman, a lab manager, or an endowed chair. The structure makes the imbalance almost inevitable: each campus runs its own Title IX office and negotiates its own resolutions, while the Office of the President and the Regents absorb the verdicts and settlements after the fact. For the graduate students and postdocs who sit near the bottom of that hierarchy, the stakes cut both ways. They are the group most exposed to a faculty harasser the institution is slow to remove, and, when they are the ones accused, the least able to afford the litigation it takes to overturn an unfair finding. The remedy that auditors and courts keep pointing to is the one the university has resisted for two decades: a single adjudication standard, with the same evidence rules and the same right to a hearing, applied the same way to a student and to a dean.
