Editor’s Peniel E. Joseph holds the esteemed Barbara Jordan chair in ethics and political values and serves as the founding director of the Center for the Study of Race and Democracy at the LBJ School of Public Affairs, University of Texas at Austin, where he also holds a professorship in history. Renowned for his scholarly contributions, he authored “The Third Reconstruction: America’s Struggle for Racial Justice in the Twenty-First Century.” The perspectives articulated herein are solely his own. Explore additional opinions on CNN.

For nearly a decade, I've had the privilege of being part of the University of Texas at Austin faculty. As a historian deeply engaged in the study of racism and activism, April brought profound challenges not just to me, but to the entire Longhorn community. What began with the slashing of resources dedicated to our students culminated in distressing displays of law enforcement crackdowns right on our doorstep. The pain is palpable.

This spring, our university motto, “What Starts Here Changes the World,” feels bitterly ironic. On April 2, President Jay Hartzell dealt a crushing blow through an email, announcing the dismissal and demotion of nearly 60 individuals—a direct consequence of the university's rigid adherence to Senate Bill 17, which effectively banned Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) initiatives outside of research and teaching domains. In his communication, Hartzell stated, “associate deans previously focused on DEI will resume their full-time teaching roles,” while eliminating funding for positions supporting those deans and a handful of DEI-focused staff across campus. These aren’t just positions; they represent members of our community.

The myopic nature of this decision galvanized over 500 professors, myself included, to express a vote of no confidence in the president's leadership.

The sting of the recent firings is amplified by this institution's deep-rooted history of exclusion and discrimination—be it based on race, gender, sexuality, or identity. The symbolic significance of the "40 Acres," the original land allocation for the university, embodies both tangible campus grounds and intangible community pride. Yet, woven into this prideful tapestry is a darker narrative of racial injustice, a narrative that necessitated the relentless activism of students and community members to dismantle age-old barriers.

The journey towards social integration for Black and marginalized communities at this university mirrors the rise of academic disciplines such as Black, Women and Gender, and Mexican-American Studies—a testament to the resilience and academic contributions of historically marginalized groups. Witnessing the emergence and flourishing of these programs, only to see them dismantled in a critical juncture, is deeply unsettling. Countless students have confided in me their fears, anxieties, and disillusionments. Colleagues and I have lamented the regression of racial justice, not just within Texas but across the nation, over the past several years. The disappearance of erstwhile allies, though anticipated, is nonetheless disheartening.

What compounds the present disillusionment is the reckless squandering of the goodwill amassed in the recent past. George Floyd's murder in 2020 catalyzed a nationwide reckoning with America's legacy of racial oppression. I bore witness to this reckoning, actively participating through writings, interviews, and speeches—each a fervent plea for the realization of a Beloved Community forged from the embers of centuries-long racial strife, political schisms, and police brutality. For a fleeting moment, it seemed change was imminent, as corporate America embraced the Black Lives Matter movement, fostering opportunities, recognition, and dignity for employees of color.

In recent years, universities have expanded their Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion (DEI) programs not only to foster an inclusive environment for historically marginalized students but also to rectify past moral transgressions rooted in racial segregation. Yet, the University of Texas at Austin, fondly known as the “40 Acres,” has a significant journey ahead. Established in 1883 as a racially segregated institution of higher learning, it didn't admit its first Black student until 1950, when Heman Sweatt, despite facing immense obstacles, began his law school journey—a journey that remained unfinished. Even after the legal mandate for integration following the Brown v. Board of Education decision, early Black students at UT—dubbed the “precursors”—faced a hostile racial climate, barred from campus dormitories, Greek life, and subjected to widespread disrespect.

Fast forward to 2024, a moment marked by paradox. While the university proudly announced the establishment of a School of Civic Education to promote viewpoint diversity favoring conservative perspectives, it simultaneously executed mass terminations of DEI-affiliated staff, a move squarely aligned with the agenda of the far-right. As a scholar-activist deeply entrenched in the study of race, democracy, and power dynamics, I've witnessed with growing dismay the detrimental effects of anti-DEI legislation on my students, colleagues, and staff.

The political upheaval gripping the nation extends far beyond DEI concerns, encompassing global issues such as protests against the atrocities in Gaza. This tumultuous moment has transformed campuses like Columbia and Emory into arenas reminiscent of the turbulent clashes between anti-war activists, Black Power advocates, and law enforcement in the 1960s and 1970s. However, UT stands apart from many of these institutions. Our distinctiveness lies in our public mission—to harness higher education as a force for positive, life-altering change in Austin, Texas, and beyond.

Prior to the dissolution of the university's Division of Diversity and Community Engagement (DDCE), UT boasted the largest initiative of its kind nationwide—a testament to our unwavering commitment to providing a world-class education accessible to students from all walks of life.

The recent violence targeting student protesters and the implementation of anti-DEI legislation are symptomatic of a broader assault on freedom of speech and expression. These actions unfold within a political landscape characterized by attacks on voting rights, reproductive freedoms, and a disturbing trend of book bans and threats against college students expressing dissenting views. The surge in antisemitic incidents following the October 7 massacre is deeply troubling, and my thoughts are with the hostages' safe return. Equally abhorrent are the instances of anti-Palestinian, anti-Muslim, and anti-Black sentiments that have surfaced during this period.

Regrettably, instead of fostering healing and reconciliation, our leaders have exacerbated political and ideological schisms. The far-right has weaponized fear, defamation, and falsehoods to stifle freedom of expression on college campuses, undermining public trust in longstanding institutions.

For those of us committed to cultivating a vibrant, multiracial democracy in the heart of the largest former Confederate state, these assaults signify more than a mere backlash against what I've termed the nation's "Third Reconstruction." What Texas is undergoing is an outright attack on democracy, mirroring similar efforts in states like Florida under Governor Ron DeSantis and here under Governor Greg Abbott's tenure, where conservative lawmakers aim to "reclaim" universities from a perceived "woke mob.

I recently participated in two demonstrations at the university—one in support of Palestinians and free speech, where I was heartened by a small pro-Israel presence amidst a larger gathering, and the other, a long-overdue protest advocating for DEI. Simultaneously, elsewhere on campus, activists setting up encampments were met with law enforcement resistance, casting our beloved community in a negative light.

Despite these challenges, what sustains my hope are the students and allies among faculty and advocates here in Austin. Many of them are steadfast in their commitment to confronting the anti-DEI backlash and nurturing a multiracial democracy from within.

As I stood beneath the scorching sun, engaging in conversations with students and colleagues, encountering familiar faces and forging new connections, I was reminded of the profound promise and potential inherent in higher education—a promise I first encountered in New York at the age of 17 when I embarked on my journey at Stony Brook University. My time there fundamentally transformed my life, laying the groundwork for the voice I possess today. Higher education, with its complexities and contradictions, serves as a mirror reflecting our society's evolving understanding of dignity, citizenship, and democracy.

It operates as a multifaceted engine driving wealth creation, job opportunities, policy advancements, technological innovations, artistic endeavors, and scientific breakthroughs. Yet, amidst this multifaceted landscape, the humanities—the exploration of our intellectual, spiritual, and moral essence through critical inquiry—often languishes in the shadows, despite its paramount importance.

Amidst all the buzz surrounding Artificial Intelligence and technological advancements, we must not lose sight of the essential horizon—the imperative of nurturing a multiracial democracy essential for the flourishing of our universities and our nation. This cannot be achieved by scapegoating DEI programs, resorting to violence against student protesters, or jeopardizing the livelihoods of faculty and staff.

The events of April serve as stark reminders that institutions of higher learning can be wielded as tools to suppress dissent and stifle freedom of expression. The slogan "What starts here changes the world" holds profound truth, but it is a truth that can manifest in multiple directions. It is incumbent upon us—students, faculty, and staff collectively—to reclaim this mantra and shape it into a source of pride once more.

For my part, I remain steadfast in my belief in the transformative power of a just university, and I am committed to fighting for its realization.

In conclusion, as we navigate the complexities of higher education and confront the challenges that threaten the very essence of our democratic ideals, it is imperative that we remain vigilant and unwavering in our commitment to justice, equity, and freedom of expression. The events of April serve as sobering reminders of the fragility of our institutions and the urgent need for collective action.

Despite the obstacles we face, I am buoyed by the resilience and determination of our students, faculty, and staff. Together, we possess the power to reclaim the transformative potential of our universities and reaffirm their role as beacons of progress, enlightenment, and social change.

As we look to the future, let us redouble our efforts to foster a truly inclusive and multiracial democracy within our campuses and beyond. Only by standing united and steadfast in our convictions can we uphold the promise that "what starts here changes the world" and ensure that it changes it for the better.