I have been thinking about the Cornell case, as I suspect many of you have, and as I know many of our students have, particularly those in our senior school. I do not intend to revisit its circumstances, which are horrific and disturbing. But one question from it has stayed with me, and it belongs to every school and every family: when we see something wrong, what do we do?

My thoughts on silence versus courage were made clearer in reflecting on the poignant and masterful address to students by Steve Beatty, Headmaster of Royal St. George’s College, an all-boys independent school in Toronto. Steve and I have been colleagues for many years, and I deeply respect how he navigates conversations with the boys and young men in his care. His remarks, which drew coverage in The Globe and Mail and The Washington Post, reminded me of our responsibility to speak up when we witness behaviour that is wrong or potentially harmful. I encourage you to read Steve’s address; his message deserves our collective reflection, and his commentary on the individual and collective responsibility of bystanders is important to hear.

I was reminded again of what courage looks like on Sunday when Dan Levy, one of my favourite comedians and Canadians, spoke out about the opening monologue on last weekend’s Saturday Night Live. Levy said he was left speechless that such blatant misogyny, excused as humour, could be aired on live national television, and that complacency about the objectification of women creates an environment that is harmful, and often dangerous, to women. This is not a women’s issue, he argued, but an “everyone issue,” and he urged men to speak up.

UTS is not insulated from the society in which we live. The attitudes, prejudices and behaviours that exist beyond our walls inevitably find their way into our children’s social media feeds, hallways and classrooms. We know our girls and young women face harassing comments and misogynistic attitudes from their peers, more often than not passed off as “just a joke.” There seems to be a belief amongst some students that humour is a valid excuse even as they do harm using sexist and demeaning language. After all, that’s what they see on television and social media.

We are also aware of the troubling rise in antisemitism and anti-Black racism in broader society, and know these attitudes are showing up in our own hallways, classrooms and online forums, sometimes subtly, sometimes overtly. And again, phrases like “but I was just kidding,” or “can’t you take a joke?” are offered to suggest that the problem lies not in the words said but in the obvious inability of the receiver to recognize the humour. When left unchallenged, the joker is emboldened, and the receivers of the hate feel powerless and blamed.

At a school like UTS, many students practise the art of argument, and sometimes use debate to push discussions towards a winning and losing ‘position’. But debate has rules that real life does not. In a round, every question has two sides; one side wins, the other side loses. When young people bring a debate framework to complex situations involving real people and real harm, something essential is lost. The person who was hurt becomes objectified – their human experience becomes nothing more than a talking point. A demeaning comment becomes a rebuttal to score against, or a hypothetical to explore as devil’s advocate from a psychologically and emotionally comfortable distance. Behind every one of these exchanges is a person on the sidelines who is watching and listening, learning from the silence or the cleverness around them whether they are safe.

We want our students to be rigorous thinkers, but we also want them to recognize the moments when the goal is not to win, but to listen, to care and to speak up. We want them to wrestle with the ambiguity that often exists in life and learn to sit with tension that is as uncomfortable as the situation surrounding it. Most importantly, we want them to be compassionate, caring citizens who commit themselves to creating an inclusive community, first at UTS and then after they graduate, in their workplaces and in all realms of their lives.

As a school, we have a responsibility to acknowledge these challenges openly and to state unequivocally that discriminatory, harassing and demeaning behaviour has no place in the inclusive and respectful community we aspire to be. We have a duty to help our students navigate these complex challenges, including the pervasive impact of social media and online influencers.