A former Cornell University student has accused seven college students of sexually assaulting her in 2024. The allegations are horrifying and deserve serious investigation. But they remain allegations.

Tompkins County District Attorney Matthew Van Houten has said that the woman’s sworn statement to police at the time described her participation in drug use and sexual activity as voluntary, conscious, and consensual. More recently, a separate police interview was reported in which she said she believed she had been raped. The criminal investigation has since been reopened.

Those conflicting accounts are exactly why investigations exist. Yet on social media, determining what actually happened can almost seem secondary.

The seven men have been publicly identified. Their photographs have circulated online. People who have never reviewed the evidence, spoken with anyone involved, or read the available statements have nevertheless reached definitive conclusions about their guilt.

Democrat politicians have also entered the debate using language that goes beyond simply calling for an investigation. Representative Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez referred to the accuser as a “survivor” during a September 27 town hall in Ithaca. She said that “those men were protected by an institution and granted an Ivy League degree as a reward.” She also described the controversy as evidence of a broader “culture of rape” at elite institutions, including Cornell.

Those comments came while the criminal investigation remained unresolved and after prosecutors reopened the case.

New York Governor Kathy Hochul called the allegations “nothing short of horrifying,” praised the accuser for coming forward, and demanded that outside counsel conduct a “transparent, independent review” of Cornell’s handling of the case. That “outside” counsel ended up being state Attorney General Letitia James.

Unlike AOC, Hochul did not publicly declare the accused men guilty. Together, the responses show that public pressure is no longer driven only by Instagram posts and celebrity outrage; elected officials are now helping shape the national conversation before the renewed criminal investigation concludes.

The Cornell case reflects a much broader cultural problem. Young Americans have grown up in a culture that increasingly rewards emotional certainty over patience, evidence, and nuance. The most powerful argument online is often not the one supported by the most evidence, but the one that produces the strongest emotional reaction.

We see this far beyond allegations of sexual misconduct.

Graphic images from Gaza circulate online, and people immediately believe they have settled complicated questions about war, international law, and genocide. Videos contrasting billionaires with struggling workers go viral, and socialism is presented as the obvious moral answer to economic inequality. A sexual-assault allegation appears on Instagram, and questioning any part of the accusation can itself be treated as evidence that society does not take women seriously.

The culture has increasingly become one of feeling first and investigating later.

Alan Dershowitz has spent years arguing that the #MeToo era weakened due process by encouraging the public to treat serious accusations as evidence of guilt before fully examining the facts.

After facing sexual-misconduct allegations that he denied and maintained were false, Dershowitz argued that due process should not disappear simply because an allegation is serious. In his 2019 book Guilt by Accusation, he criticized what he described as a # MeToo-era tendency to treat an accusation as evidence of guilt before the accused has a meaningful opportunity to respond.

Dershowitz has also argued that false accusations harm genuine victims. If accusations alone become enough to destroy someone’s reputation, skepticism can eventually grow even toward legitimate claims.

Being publicly accused of sexual assault can permanently change someone’s life even if the allegation is later disproven or never substantiated. An accusation can become attached to someone’s name before a prosecutor files charges, before a jury hears evidence, or before investigators determine what actually happened.

In those cases, punishment can begin before guilt is established.

The principle of innocent until proven guilty exists for moments exactly like these. It is easy to defend due process when public pressure to abandon it is low. The real test comes when an allegation is horrifying, emotions are intense, and millions of people believe they already know what happened.

Taking victims seriously and protecting the rights of the accused are not contradictory principles. A society capable of doing both is one concerned with justice, not outrage.