The topic of Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) has become one of the most contentious issues in contemporary education. People on both sides are deeply invested in their views, often leaving little space for compromise. I recognize that my viewpoint may not resonate with the majority, and I anticipate that some readers may disagree—possibly quite vehemently. Nevertheless, I feel this discussion is too crucial to sidestep, particularly as DEI policies and the reactions against them have significant consequences for the mission of higher education. My goal is not to undermine the importance of inclusivity but to thoughtfully consider whether some practices have deviated too far from their original intentions, leading to division instead of promoting understanding. With this in mind, I share my insights on what we can learn from the events of 2024 and the path forward.
In her Inside Higher Ed article, Johanna Alonso captures the wave of anti-DEI legislation sweeping through states like Alabama, Iowa, and Utah. While it’s tempting to dismiss these bans as purely political posturing, one must wonder: did DEI initiatives go too far in the first place? If so, we’ve all just been handed a lesson in what happens when lofty ideals crash into the hard wall of public opinion.
Let’s face it: DEI—an acronym once spoken in hushed, reverent tones—has managed to polarize the nation. States like Idaho and Kansas prohibiting diversity statements in hiring didn’t emerge from a vacuum. These moves, as heavy-handed as they might seem, are reactions to policies and practices that, to some, veered dangerously close to ideological enforcement. For example, the University of Kansas had to issue an official statement and adjust its procedures following new state legislation banning policies that require students or staff members to sign statements of support for political stances. The statement from the Office of the Provost emphasized their commitment to complying with the law while maintaining an inclusive campus environment (source: University of Kansas Provost Office). When a university’s core business shifts from educating minds to scoring ideological purity points, what’s left? Hint: it’s not critical thinking.
Even more bizarre is the spectacle of universities preemptively dismantling their DEI structures, like Missouri’s flagship institutions shuttering offices without any legal necessity. According to reporting by Inside Higher Ed, the University of Missouri closed its DEI office to pre-empt a potential state mandate. The university stated this decision was made in response to anticipated political pressure, underscoring the challenges institutions face in navigating these contentious issues (source: Inside Higher Ed). One administrator, speaking anonymously, confessed that their university closed cultural centers “to avoid becoming a political target.” Such overcorrection doesn’t just compromise institutional autonomy; it sends a clear message: “We’re more afraid of upsetting lawmakers than upholding our mission.” Universities are supposed to be fortresses of thought, not castles built on political sand.
Take, for example, initiatives like black-only student lounges. While the idea might stem from a well-meaning place—providing safe spaces for underrepresented groups—the execution often falls flat. At Toronto Metropolitan University, Waterloo University, and the University of British Columbia, similar initiatives have sparked controversies for deepening racial divides rather than bridging them. Critics, as highlighted in a National Post article, argue that these spaces promote segregation under the guise of inclusion, creating exclusivity where unity is needed (source: National Post). Imagine a world where a “Caucasian Student Lounge” opened; the uproar would be deafening. Equity shouldn’t mean swapping one form of exclusion for another. It should mean shared spaces where all voices feel valued.
The question of whether DEI policies sometimes overreach extends beyond physical spaces on campus. While black-only lounges highlight how well-meaning initiatives can unintentionally deepen divisions, the case of Vijay Chokal-Ingam, an Indian-American student who pretended to be black to gain admission to medical school, illustrates how affirmative-action policies themselves can create complex and controversial outcomes. Vijay’s experience reveals the unintended consequences of a system that prioritizes race over individual circumstances, raising critical questions about fairness and the true purpose of diversity initiatives.
As detailed in his own account, Vijay found himself shut out of medical schools despite decent grades and test scores. Faced with rejection, he discovered that his chances of admission would improve dramatically if he identified as black. By altering his presentation, joining a black student organization, and listing his race as African-American, he was eventually admitted to St. Louis University School of Medicine.
Vijay’s story raises uncomfortable questions about fairness in admissions and whether affirmative action as practiced aligns with its intended purpose. His experience demonstrates how such policies can foster resentment and reinforce stereotypes. As Vijay pointed out, he was not disadvantaged—he came from an affluent family, drove a nice car, and attended a prestigious prep school. Yet, the system considered him an affirmative-action candidate based solely on his assumed race.
This highlights a fundamental flaw: affirmative action, while created to address inequities, can end up promoting exclusion and resentment, even among groups it seeks to help. Vijay’s account also sheds light on the stigma it creates for those admitted through these programs, potentially perpetuating the idea that they achieved success due to preferential treatment rather than merit.
Vijay ultimately dropped out of medical school, but his experience offers a powerful lens to examine whether DEI and affirmative-action policies truly serve their purpose. Are they helping those who are genuinely underprivileged, or are they creating new forms of inequity? Vijay’s story forces us to confront these difficult questions and rethink how we define fairness in education.
Here’s a universal truth: nobody likes being told what to think, especially by institutions they’re funding with their taxes. Legislators pushing DEI bans and universities enforcing mandatory DEI statements share one fatal flaw—they’re both trying to impose their worldview rather than invite discussion. Consider the University of Texas at Austin, where DEI staff layoffs immediately followed state legislation cracking down on DEI (source: Texas Tribune). As if that weren’t enough, UT went a step further by mandating compliance training to ensure adherence to the new rules (source: Texas Scorecard). Whether it’s mandating DEI training or its ideological counterpoint, “Anti-DEI” compliance training, it seems there’s no escape from having ideologies forced upon people. And when the dust settles, it’s often the students and faculty caught in the middle who become the true casualties.
A notable addition to the DEI conversation is the Anti-DEI Legislation Tracker maintained by BestColleges (link). While the tracker does delve into the nuances of individual policies, its use of an election-style, color-coded map—categorized into No Bills Introduced, On Watch, Bills Introduced, and Signed into Law—invokes political party symbolism that doesn’t benefit the conversation. This visual framing can unintentionally amplify divisions, as readers may be more inclined to associate the map with political allegiance rather than engage with the specific details of each policy. Instead of fostering a deeper understanding, such design choices risk reducing the discussion to a partisan spectacle, undermining the complexity of the issues at hand.
The backlash against DEI isn’t just a rejection of its goals but of how those goals have been pursued. Higher education has an opportunity here—a chance to weave just causes into policies that meet society’s values somewhere in the middle. Instead of dictating conformity, universities should champion collaboration. DEI initiatives should emphasize universal principles of fairness and shared goals rather than dividing students into identity-based silos. Programs could, for instance, promote team-based community service projects that bring together diverse groups to solve real-world problems.
Above all, institutions must remember their primary mission: education. Teaching critical thinking requires open dialogue, not dogma. If universities prioritize fostering intellectual curiosity over enforcing ideological frameworks, they will create graduates capable of navigating an increasingly complex world.
The DEI debacle of 2024 is not just a cautionary tale but an invitation to do better. Inclusive policies, when crafted thoughtfully, can align with societal values and strengthen the pillars of education. But stray too far from the mission, and the backlash writes itself. As we chart a path forward, let’s remember: balance is not a compromise; it’s the only way to build a foundation that lasts.
