A Stunning Settlement, a Long-Overdue Reckoning
The headlines stunned the nation: Columbia University and New York-Presbyterian Hospital would pay a record $750 million to 576 women abused over decades by disgraced OB-GYN Robert Hadden. With a total of over $1 billion paid out to survivors, this is not just a case about one predator—it’s a chilling lesson in institutional accountability, denial, and the extraordinary power of survivors’ voices.
Consider this: Hadden, once a celebrated doctor in Manhattan’s elite hospitals, carried out unspeakable acts while shielded by the very institutions tasked with safeguarding women’s health. According to attorney Anthony T. DiPietro, whose dogged investigation unearthed crucial evidence, Columbia’s cover-up extends back decades. A pivotal 1995 letter, written by Columbia’s own Chair of Obstetrics and Gynecology, directly acknowledged Hadden’s abuse to one victim. “We are appalled by what you experienced,” the letter read, undermining Columbia’s public insistence, for years, that no one could have known what Hadden was doing behind closed exam-room doors.
If this all sounds tragically familiar, it should. Powerful American institutions—churches, Olympic organizations, universities—have far too often chosen to shield predators rather than victims, prioritizing reputation and liability over the people in their care. In 2018, the same patterns were exposed in the Larry Nassar–Michigan State University scandal, and just last year, the National Women’s Soccer League reeled from revelations of entrenched abuse. Columbia joins a grim roll call, forced to reckon not just with monstrous acts, but with decades of silence and complicity.
Delays, Denials, and the High Cost of “Protecting the Institution”
For years, Hadden’s victims tried to speak up. Complaints poured into Columbia and New York-Presbyterian—yet Hadden continued to practice, even after law enforcement took notice in 2012 and an indictment followed in 2014. According to a 2020 ProPublica investigation, hospital administrators routinely downplayed or dismissed concerns, and the institution’s apparent ignorance was later exposed as deliberate disregard.
What message does this send to survivors of abuse elsewhere? The slow grind of justice was made grimmer by what happened next. In 2016, then-Manhattan District Attorney Cyrus Vance Jr.’s office offered Hadden a plea deal requiring only the surrender of his medical license—no jail time, no sex offender registry. Many in the survivor community, alongside legal experts and advocates, saw this as a shocking failure of the justice system. As victim advocate Susan Ko, formerly of End Rape on Campus, put it:
“When the system is more interested in giving a predator the benefit of the doubt than protecting women, it sends a message: your pain is less important than professional decorum.”
Only years later, as the #MeToo movement forced public scrutiny and federal prosecutors stepped in, did Hadden finally receive a 20-year prison sentence in 2023. Yet, for more than two decades, hundreds of women were left to wonder: Would anything ever change?
The cost of shielding institutional reputation is staggeringly high—not just in dollars, but in the trust permanently lost by communities who once believed these organizations would protect them. This settlement, while historic, is more than a moral bill coming due: it is a searing reminder that damage control cannot substitute for actual justice.
What Real Accountability Looks Like
Columbia’s official response to the settlement has been predictably cautious. In a public statement, the university “commended the survivors for their bravery” and called the payout “another step forward in our ongoing work and commitment to repair harm and support survivors.” But what does true accountability require?
It’s not enough to write checks when the stakes are this high. As Harvard’s Dr. Lynn Sanford, an expert in institutional betrayal and trauma, stresses, “Public apologies and financial settlements mark a starting line, not the finish. Without genuine transformation—rooting out cultures of secrecy, actively listening to survivors, reforming reporting mechanisms—these cycles will repeat.”
A closer look reveals why settlements alone fall short. Survivors of Robert Hadden spent years, sometimes decades, fighting for acknowledgment. According to a 2024 Pew Research Center report, nearly 60% of Americans lack faith that colleges and hospitals adequately protect patients from sexual abuse. Trust cannot be restored with a press release. It demands transparency about past failings, meaningful changes in leadership, and a seat at the table for those harmed.
Beyond legalities and payouts, Columbia must answer the community’s pressing question: Who—if anyone—has been held truly accountable, besides Hadden? Will the lessons of this scandal open doors for more rigorous oversight, survivor-centered healthcare, and a system where victims’ warnings are met with urgency, not institutional self-interest?
If history is any guide, progress comes painfully slowly. But there is cause for hope in the steady, insistent pressure from survivors and advocates: those who refuse to let America’s most privileged institutions sweep the truth under gilded rugs.
Turning Pain Into Power—And Institutional Change
It’s all too easy to feel numb in the face of such systemic failures. Yet the Hadden case underscores why vigilance is not optional. Every survivor who stood up, every attorney who pieced together the paper trail, and every advocate who refused to back down is part of a movement forcing change—inside the Ivy League and beyond.
As you read this, ask yourself: Will the next vulnerable patient see a system that is truly safer and more just, or simply more prepared to issue settlements and statements? The work of making institutions accountable belongs to all of us. And if Columbia’s reckoning sparks real reform, it will be because survivors forced that change—one voice, one case, one hard-won step at a time.
