Do our current debates over DEI mean that we now have to relitigate all of America’s history? To look at recent headlines, you could be forgiven for thinking so.
Recently, the Air Force was hit with a stunning example of malicious compliance in the wake of President Trump’s executive order banning discriminatory diversity, equity, and inclusion (DEI) programs. After the EO resulted in a temporary takedown of educational material on the Tuskegee Airmen, America’s first black fighter pilots, the takedown sparked backlash, including from Sen. Katie Britt (R-AL) and newly-instated Secretary of Defense Pete Hegseth, with the material on the Airmen quickly being reinstated. But the brouhaha, unfortunately, injected more racism accusations into an already-fraught discussion about how we talk about this country’s battles against the prejudice of our past. And now another historical figure is getting the magnifying glass of DEI scrutiny: Jackie Robinson.
The Department of Defense took flack for deleting an article highlighting the accomplishments of Robinson, the first African-American Major League Baseball player in the modern era. As per reporting from the Associated Press, the error page on Robinson’s article contained “the letters “dei” added to the URL.” After scrubbing it from the site, the Department reinstated the piece, but the backlash had begun.
Stephen A. Smith blasted the mistake and contended it “was [not] an honest mistake at all.”
Others argued that Robinson’s story, as the first MLB player to break the color barrier, was a perfect example of why modern DEI programs are necessary.
“In Major League Baseball, Jackie Robinson was the definition of a DEI hire, and that’s why we need [DEI],” sports podcaster Nick Wright said in a video. “The reason DEI policies came to exist was to make sure deserving people from all colors… had a shot.”
Wright asserts that if one doesn’t believe that Jackie Robinson was a ‘DEI hire,’ then one must believe that the racism-laden system he was forced to confront was synonymous with meritocracy, writing, “If your argument is, ‘when the numbers were literally 98 to 2, white guys to everyone else, that’s when we had a merit-based system,’ then make that argument.”
The problem is, no serious critic of DEI — and perhaps no serious person — believes that. Jim Crow was not meritocratic. No one with a shred of common sense would look at the color-segregated MLB that Robinson came into and conclude it was completely merit-based.
Making History
Robinson made history when he took the field for the Brooklyn Dodgers in April 1947 (a year before President Harry S Truman would integrate the American military), sporting the number 42 on the back of a blue-and-white Dodgers jersey. His ascension to the MLB field was fraught with no small amount of controversy. Dodgers manager Leo Durocher notably had to hit back against racist sentiments from Robinson’s teammates: “I do not care if the guy is yellow or black, or has stripes like a f**kin’ zebra. I’m the manager of this team, and I say he plays. What’s more, I say he can make us all rich.”
Robinson faced tremendous racism in his career from both fellow players and fans (including being arrested in 1944 after refusing to sit in the back of a bus), and yet achieved tremendous success, winning Rookie of the Year in 1947, playing in six World Series (including the 1955 Dodgers championship), and took the National League Most Valuable Player Award in 1949. What, then, does his story have to do with DEI?
Wright contends that Robinson was only able to succeed because the DEI policies of his day gave him a shot… “that’s why such policies exist, and that’s why we’ll defend them.”
Wright’s comments betray a fundamental misunderstanding of DEI. It’s no new insight to point out how modern DEI initiatives are not synonymous with nondiscrimination. The days when the defense of DEI was as simple as “DEI just means not being racist, so stop asking questions” are long gone, buried under strata of genuinely terrible policies enacted in the name of DEI that, in practice, amounted to different treatment based on race.
Is Jackie Robinson analogous to an IBM employee wondering whether their race puts them on the wrong (or right) end of a recruiting diversity quota? Is Robinson analogous to a PwC applicant waiting to see whether their race makes the cut for ‘underrepresented’ to be eligible for an internship? Is Robinson analogous to a banker in 2020 wondering if Wells Fargo is recruiting them based on merit or simply to fulfill the company’s newly instated diversity quota policy?
DEI Treats People Unequally
These examples are worlds apart from that of Jackie Robinson. To claim that the overt race-based practices of Major League Baseball in 1947 are remotely equivalent to the workforce and academic space of 2025 is the kind of claim you only get to make when you assume, as Wright does, the premise that you’re arguing: that most modern DEI initiatives tangibly reduce bias and don’t treat people differently based on their race. But right now, we’re looking at a growing mountain of evidence that that’s not the case.
To say that Robinson was a “diversity hire” ignores the fact that he was simply seeking the same opportunity as white ballplayers. While his signing to some extent aligns with DEI principles of racial integration, Robinson’s entry into Major League Baseball was based on his ability and performance, not his immutable characteristics. It was, perhaps tellingly, only his critics who saw such characteristics as defining.