Sexual Violence, Music Schools and Musicians, and NDAs

I don’t usually write about true crime, and it’s generally wise to be careful when writing about sexual assault allegations that haven’t been accepted as proven in the criminal courts, so I’m approaching this with some caution.

It needs to be said.

A tiny fraction of sexual assaults make it into court, and because the evidentiary standard in criminal law is high (because–fair enough–we don’t want innocent people to go to jail), even strong cases may not result in convictions.

Legal claims can also be made in tort, my favourite kind of law, because it allows some autonomy for survivors of violence.

And claims can also be made in other forums: as human rights claims, or to employment tribunals.

But what all of these legal and quasi-juridical processes have in common is that they do a better job, in many cases, of protecting institutions than they do of protecting individuals.

We saw this with the protracted fight during the 1990s by residential school survivors. Hundreds, and then thousands of legal cases were filed against the federal government and the churches; survivors fought for years, and in some cases, linked to excluded residential schools and the faulty IAP, they’re still fighting.

Individuals face several daunting challenges in addressing harms done to them. There’s often a systemic abuse of power involved, and that power, whether it’s that of a tenured professor, or a CEO or a powerful producer–or a senior musician at a celebrated symphony orchestra–is its own natural deterrent.

Those of us who have reported any kind of harassment or discrimination know that we will feel the effects in our careers while those we report will likely escape with few or no consequences. It’s just how the process works.

And it’s still better than nothing, because by launching a complaint process you create a record, however faulty and inadequate, that something bad happened. The institution and the individuals you name can no longer hide behind the excuse that they didn’t know, or they didn’t understand the consequences.

But the career damage is real and enduring.

Retaliation after harassment complaints is common. Here’s a petition in support of former Vancouver Symphony violinist Esther Hwang. Robyn Doolittle at the Globe & Mail shared Hwang’s story last week, of harassment and assault by a senior VSO member that, when Hwang very bravely spoke up and got legal assistance, resulted in an NDA and the accused musician’s departure from the orchestra. An update here.

But it also effectively ended Esther Hwang’s contingently-employed career with the VSO.

And the damages award, to cover her counselling costs, was insultingly low.

Choosing to speak out, notwithstanding Hwang’s signed NDA, has now produced a cease and desist letter from the VSO’s lawyers, which is predictable. But given the public pressure that the symphony’s administration and board is now under, perhaps rather than promising to do better in the future, they could do better . . . now.

And perhaps writing them encouraging letters might be helpful. Mine’s grown to five pages, so I need to edit.

Unlike in many similar instances, there’s now support for Hwang from her fellow musicians: “A committee representing the full-time members of the VSO issued a public statement in support of Ms. Hwang. The musicians praised her for speaking out against what they called the ‘unethical and immoral’ use of confidentiality agreements in instances of alleged sexual violence” (Doolittle).

Hwang has also now decided to share the details of her experience, but I’m not going to link to the Substack documents in case she’s advised to remove them. I don’t want to compound any harm, here.

A quick primer:

An NDA, a non-disclosure agreement, is intended to enable a settlement agreement in an instance where allegations of harassment or other harm have been made but have not been established (usually) through a judicial process or formal investigation.

The NDA is often, although not always, tied to financial compensation. The complainant risks not only losing this compensation if they violate the NDA by speaking out, but may also be on the hook for potentially enormous legal damages by the individual or institution that paid the settlement award. The idea here is that breaching the confidentiality of the agreement causes reputational damage, to individuals and/or to institutions.

This is where my understanding of the law is a bit shaky, because during the very interesting and intense year I spent studying law part time at UVic (great law school!) I took torts but not contracts law, and this is a contract issue: one of the signatories to the agreement has reneged on a signed contract.

But should people who report sexual violence be cajoled/coerced/compelled into signing NDAs in the first place?

This is a transcript of a talk, so it’s a bit messy to read, but it touches on some key issues with the ubiquitous use of NDAs in settlement agreements in Canada. Here’s labour and employment lawyer Ronald Pink, K.C.: “The defendant has a continuing hold on you that ensures you remain silent, failing in which your settlement may be in jeopardy.”

But silence is, of course, the problem. It’s what enables serial abusers to escape the consequences of their actions for decades; it’s what permits institutions–whether orchestras, or youth groups, or universities–to conceal the open secret of institutional violence and betrayal.

And silence is baked in to the processes, and not just through the NDAs that purportedly resolve complaints.

In order to participate in many processes, including mediation, the first required step is agreeing to not share the complaint that you’re reporting (to HR, or to your union, for instance) with any other party outside the process, family/friends perhaps excepted.

This isolates people who have experienced harassment and discrimination of all forms, but it’s especially inappropriate in the case of people who are reporting sexual violence. They need all the support they can get, and they shouldn’t be told not to share their story, in any way and at any time that they choose.

So please consider signing this petition. If fundraising is needed, which may happen, please consider donating.

One of my 2026 resolutions is to research all artists whose concerts I’ll be attending. A fall highlight was a fabulous recital by a musician who, it turns out, is no longer welcome in a number of venues because of alleged misconduct. I wish I’d known before I bought my ticket.

The music world, like most other spheres, is still a long way from achieving equality for women and racialized participants; some very determined people, like violinist Lara St. John, are working hard to change this, and to address the culture of abuse that has been a part of some music schools and other noted institutions.

As a very beginner cellist, a somewhat less beginner pianist (whose teacher despairs of her ability to keep time) and as someone who has been immersed in music my whole life, I am so grateful for their efforts.