As another academic year picks up steam, last week brought both good news and bad news from Emory University.

The good news is that the Hon. Leah Ward Sears began her term as interim president on September 1. An alumna of Emory Law School, she adds to a number of distinguished firsts in her résumé the distinction of being the first African American to lead Emory and only the second woman to do so. Judicious, widely known and admired in Georgia, and deeply devoted to her alma mater, she brings fifteen years of experience as an Emory trustee to the job. I got to know her during the first ten years of her trusteeship, while I was still working in the President’s Office, and I have great respect for her. I wish her every success in helping to guide the institution through the minefields being laid for universities by the administration in Washington, DC. It will not be an easy job.

Unfortunately, the bad news is that one of the first campuswide communications from the President’s Office at Emory last week announced the termination of offices and programs intended to foster diversity, equity, and inclusion. This news is unsurprising in view of similar developments at other universities under pressure from the Trump administration. The White House seems intent not only on shifting the supposed cultural biases of universities but also—through the elimination of hundreds of millions of dollars of scientific research grants—on weakening the intellectual firepower of institutions that have been, until now, the envy of the rest of the world.

According to the statement from President Sears, “Closing offices or reimagining lawful programs is not, after all, the same as ending our unwavering commitment to fairness, belonging, and opportunity for all, values that are part of Emory’s DNA.” And there is part of the rub. Institutions, after all, do not have DNA. Human beings have DNA, which determines their eye color, handedness, hairline, blood type, and many other traits without a bit of effort, attention, or even thought from the individuals who carry the DNA.

An institution, on the other hand—a university—cannot be so effortless, inattentive, or thoughtless. Any values it holds dear must be deliberately embodied and made manifest through intentional policies, practices, and programs that will carry forward its vision and mission. As Alexis de Tocqueville famously observed, democracy in America has its foundation in “habits of the heart,” which are formed and nurtured by organizations, civic associations, and rituals that knit together the moral fabric of a community. Without these organizations and their attendant offices, “values” remain simply wordy ideals. The same is true for universities.

Emory history has lessons for how institutional values and the moral fabric of a university community must be made concrete through real programs run by competent and dedicated people. The lawsuit that Emory brought against the State of Georgia in 1962 for the right to integrate was a declaration of the institutional value of inclusion regardless of race. But the admission of Black students did not by itself make that value real. As the protests by Black students in 1969 made clear, a university can allow people in without making them feel that they belong. Belonging and opportunity depended on changes in institutional habits and the creation of programs like the African American Studies Department.

Women had a place at Emory beginning in 1917, but as late as the 1980s and 1990s, women did not always feel safe on campus, they had a harder time advancing professionally, they were underrepresented in leadership roles, and sexism remained a powerful “value” for many on campus, especially in the fraternities. The creation of the Center for Women and the Women’s Studies Program (now the Department of Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies) helped not only to change policies and habits but also to manifest a set of values—among them respect, fairness, and security—in which the university could take pride.

Similar paragraphs could be written regarding the emergence of institutional consciousness about the belonging and rights of gay, lesbian, bisexual, and trans people; about students who are not U.S. citizens; about members of our community with physical or emotional challenges; and about persons with different religious beliefs than those of Emory’s founders, or with no religious belief.

In 2005, Emory launched a ten-year strategic plan called “Where Courageous Inquiry Leads.” That plan drew on the language of the vision statement that had been crafted two years earlier, a statement that held forth the promise of a university that was internationally recognized for being “inquiry-driven” and “ethically engaged.” The values articulated in that vision had to be mapped onto measurable goals achieved through new programs or significantly beefed up old ones.

The point is that as Emory has clarified its values, its ideals, over decades of institutional evolution, the university has had to innovate, invent, and discover ways to allow those values to shape people’s lives in real, practical ways. Some of those innovations have been programs in diversity, equity, and inclusion. They have formed and nurtured the “habits of the heart” of Emory people—the values by which we interact with each other.

The question, then, is this: If the federal government is going to make those programs go away, how is Emory going to create new ways to incarnate and institutionalize its values of fairness, belonging, and opportunity for all going forward? How will Emory continue making its values concrete? On this question, last week’s statement makes only vague reassurances. I hope that the coming year will bring clear and persuasive answers.