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Shuttered DEI offices. A terminated long-standing minority recruitment program. A multi-million dollar racial equity plan in jeopardy.

Over the last several months, Harvard has made significant changes to identity-focused programming — eliminating or rebranding entire programs abruptly and with minimal, if any, public explanation.

By continuously obscuring its rationale, Harvard does itself a serious disservice.

A university must be able to articulate a mission — principles to guide it in times of crisis and values to be championed. Though discretion can be prudent, Harvard’s silence leaves its students and the public with nothing to rally behind, eroding trust and undermining its defense in the process.

In July, the College replaced its DEI offices with a new Office of Culture and Community. When explaining the reason for the change to Peer Advising Fellows, College Dean David J. Deming seemed to acknowledge external pressures, although his official announcement to staff described it as embodying “our commitment to supporting our entire student body.”

A similar switch came in August, with the College eliminating proctor and tutor support titles for LGBTQ and first-generation or low-income students, instead establishing a new “Culture and Community” designation. Again, administrators emphasized that the change would ensure programming remains accessible to all students.

Yet, beyond these vague soundbites, fundamental questions remain unanswered. How exactly was the abolished programming inaccessible to students? What equips their replacements to solve this problem? And what about the real consequences facing students as a result of these changes?

Other shifts have been even more discreet. More than 50 years old, the Undergraduate Minority Recruitment Program used to include a range of activities designed to encourage minority high school students to apply to Harvard — from campus visits to contacting students and fielding communication. But when questioned by The Crimson, a spokesperson for the University wrote that the program “wasn’t doing any of these activities in recent years,” declining to explain what it was doing instead or why it was quietly eliminated in May.

Over at the Business School, similarly few details have been provided about the apparent shuttering of the school’s $25 million Racial Equity Plan. Administrators expressed a commitment to “incorporate the intention behind the plan in our efforts,” but they have not publicly clarified how much money was spent, where the rest of it is going, or what new efforts will look like. Of the nearly 70 people involved with the plan, every single one who could be reached by The Crimson for comment about the changes declined to comment or failed to respond.

So why are these changes really being made? With such opaque answers from the University, it’s difficult to say.

Is it all just an attempt to appease the Trump administration? Is it a sincere effort to be in compliance with the law? Or is it that administrators really do believe in their actions? Is Harvard finally reneging on the mythologized “liberal excess” of the academy?

In each case, there are plausible reasons to believe that it is any of the above, and thus speculation becomes pointless. Herein lies the most obvious downside to the opacity surrounding Harvard’s motives: for those who harbor concerns about the changes the University is making, it becomes very difficult to levy effective critiques or pursue accountability.

Of course, one might argue that this is the entire point. Given the current political moment, it makes sense that the University would be especially guarded about what it shares publicly. That said, the institution seriously underestimates the value that lies in transparency, and the damage that’s done when it is absent. It is an advantage to be able to shape the public narrative — every time Harvard fails to legitimately explain its actions, it surrenders this opportunity.

The University has articulated a compelling defense of itself before. When research funding was threatened, President Alan M. Garber ’76 made exclusive appearances on national news outlets and wrote passionately about “upholding our values.”

If the University was able to muster similarly principled messaging and offer concrete rationale for recent changes, it would go a long way towards building trust and improving discourse. People will certainly still have critiques, but at least they’ll be on Harvard’s terms, addressing the real content of its decisions instead of some imagined approximation of them.

Surely, Harvard has more to say about its pronounced transformation than the empty gestures and word-salad it has produced thus far. If administrators really can’t come up with anything better to justify their choices, I can’t think of a clearer sign that they are making the wrong ones.

When Harvard first decided to fight back against the Trump administration in April, the excitement was palpable. People on and beyond campus threw their support behind the University because it gave them a message they could believe in. It wasn’t just a fight for Harvard, it was a fight for higher education, for democracy, and for freedom.

For the University to meet the moment, it needs more than decisive action — it needs to be able to articulate a clear and principled vision of the values guiding it. But right now, Harvard’s silence is speaking volumes. It's past time that it figures out how to speak for itself instead.

E. Matteo Diaz ’27, an Associate Editorial editor and Crimson Diversity and Inclusivity Chair, is a double concentrator in Social Studies and Applied Mathematics in Leverett House.