This is part of an unexpected series:
- Part 1: The Spirit Tested: Texas A&M
- Part 2: Integrity Tested, Integrity Demanded
- Part 3: Cancel Culture Tested
- Part 4: Academic Freedom Tested
- Part 5: Leadership Tested
- Part 6: Power Tested
Introduction
I want to be absolutely clear at the outset. As a conservative Republican, I agree with Rep. Brian Harrison on the substance of his concerns. Critical theory indoctrination has no place in public education. Students deserve to be taught, not ideologically formed. At the same time, critical theory should be studied rigorously, as the Colson Fellows program does, so Christians and citizens can understand, test, and refute competing worldviews. On policy, then, I stand with Harrison.
But policy agreement does not excuse destructive methods. And it is here that Harrison failed, spectacularly. Rather than pursue dialogue, due process, and principled reform, he defaulted to cyberbullying: blasting out videos on social media, framing the controversy through Texas Scorecard, and publicly humiliating President Mark Welsh without ever once attempting to meet with him. That is not leadership; it is political theater. It is not courage; it is pride.
This is the old problem of “the ends justify the means.” Harrison may have believed the cause was righteous, but his chosen means were corrosive. The moment you justify unbiblical or dishonorable tactics for the sake of “winning,” you have already lost. As Christians, we are not permitted to fight darkness with darkness. As conservatives, we cannot decry cancel culture and then employ its very tools.
And as Aggies, we cannot ignore the Core Values that define this university: respect, excellence, leadership, loyalty, integrity, and selfless service. Brian Harrison knows those words. He once wore that ring. Yet his actions in this case betrayed them. There was no respect for a seasoned leader, no loyalty to the Aggie family, no integrity in bypassing dialogue, no selfless service in the pursuit of personal spotlight.
If Aggieland is to remain true to itself, and if conservatives are to model the better way we so often preach, then we must say it plainly: Harrison’s methods were wrong. This article is not about his policy goals, which I share, but about the way he chose to pursue them. Because in leadership, the means matter every bit as much as the ends.
Timeline of Harrison’s Escalation
To grasp how Representative Brian Harrison helped drive the resignation of President Mark Welsh, we need to trace the sequence of his actions. What began as a student-professor conflict over children’s literature spiraled into a statewide spectacle, largely because of how Harrison chose to handle it.
1. The earlier clash over DEI (spring 2025).
Harrison and Welsh already had history. In the spring, Harrison accused Texas A&M of violating state law through its DEI programs. Welsh publicly responded, clarifying A&M’s compliance, and noted that he had offered to meet Harrison directly. Harrison declined, opting instead to file a federal complaint and amplify the issue through media. That set a precedent: bypass dialogue, escalate publicly.
2. The classroom incident (summer 2025).
In late July, during a summer session of a children’s literature course, a student challenged Professor Melissa McCool’s use of the “Gender Unicorn” as teaching material. The exchange was recorded and eventually shared. Multiple students, including Savannah Landers, later testified that the course had been saturated with LGBTQ+ themes unrelated to its catalog description. Some raised concerns directly with Welsh, who responded with personal calls and assurances that the matter would be addressed.
3. Harrison seizes the recordings (September 2025).
At some point, one or more students provided Harrison with recordings of classroom interactions and phone conversations with Welsh. Rather than approaching Welsh or A&M leadership privately, Harrison released the material publicly on X (Twitter). The posts were amplified by Texas Scorecard, which framed them as evidence of systemic indoctrination and weak leadership.
4. Political pressure escalates.
Within days, calls mounted for firings and resignations. Welsh had already convened deans, audited courses, and initiated disciplinary reviews — but the narrative, shaped by Harrison’s posts, was that A&M was covering up ideological indoctrination. Welsh’s methodical process appeared like foot-dragging in the court of public opinion.
5. The breaking point (mid-September 2025).
After it became clear that the professor continued teaching the material, Welsh acted decisively: the professor was dismissed, the dean removed from leadership, and the department head demoted. Chancellor Glenn Hegar publicly backed Welsh’s decisions. But the pressure did not stop. Harrison and others doubled down, demanding Welsh himself step aside.
6. Resignation (September 19, 2025).
Ultimately, Welsh resigned under mounting political pressure, despite broad support from students and faculty. His farewell letter reflected gratitude, humility, and deep affection for Aggieland, a sharp contrast to the tone of Harrison’s social media campaign.
From start to finish, Harrison’s fingerprints are visible on the escalation. At no point did he attempt private dialogue with Welsh regarding the classroom controversy. At every turn, he chose public confrontation, weaponized recordings, and leveraged media framing to achieve political effect. The result was not simply reform in a syllabus, but the forced resignation of a respected university president.
What the Students Did and Where It Went Wrong
No honest observer can fault the students for recognizing something was wrong in their classroom. By multiple testimonies, the course was saturated with material on gender ideology and LGBTQ themes that had little connection to its catalog description as “children’s literature.” Students were right to feel misled, right to question the professor, and right to seek redress through the proper channels.
Yet the way some students chose to respond short-circuited biblical and institutional principles of conflict. The viral classroom recording is the clearest example. Matthew 18:15–17 gives a clear order for handling offenses: first, go privately; second, involve one or two witnesses; only then, bring it before the larger body. But in this case, the leap was made from classroom disagreement directly to public exposure. What could have been addressed through faculty review and presidential oversight became fuel for a culture war once the video was released.
Savannah Landers’s testimony shows a more faithful path. She wrote to President Welsh, expressing her concerns. He personally called her back the next morning, listened, and promised action. That is Matthew 18 in practice — addressing wrongs through direct conversation with authority, not by spectacle. Other students followed her example, emailing Welsh or going to department leadership. Those steps aligned with both biblical principle and institutional process.
The problem is that alongside these private appeals came public recordings and their transfer to a state legislator. Once Rep. Brian Harrison had those clips, the conflict left the classroom and entered the political arena. At that point, the narrative could no longer be shepherded within Aggieland.
Students were right to stand against ideological indoctrination. They were wrong to weaponize recordings and accelerate the conflict into a viral storm. Motive may have been sincere, but the method matters. Respect, loyalty, and integrity — all core Aggie values — call for conflict resolution that is principled, not performative. The irony is that by skipping due process, the students opened the door for politicians and activists to take control of the story, reducing their legitimate concerns into talking points for someone else’s agenda.
Harrison’s Method: Political Bullying by Another Name
If the students’ mistake was short-circuiting due process, Rep. Brian Harrison’s failure was far more egregious. His handling of the controversy was not statesmanship; it was political bullying disguised as courage.
1. Bypassing dialogue.
The most striking fact is that Harrison never attempted direct dialogue with President Welsh regarding the classroom controversy. Welsh has said plainly that no such conversation took place. That omission speaks volumes. Scripture is clear about the duty of direct engagement (Matt. 18:15). Aggie tradition likewise prizes face-to-face honesty and loyalty. By choosing not to speak with Welsh, not even once, Harrison revealed that his interest lay less in resolution than in exposure.
2. Weaponizing social media.
Instead of conversation, Harrison went to war on X. He posted video clips and phone recordings, often stripped of their context, framing them as evidence of systemic indoctrination. Once published, the clips spread rapidly, inflaming outrage far beyond Aggieland. The effect was not to clarify but to caricature: the professor as villain, the student as hero, the president as coward. Such narrative warfare is the lifeblood of cancel culture, the very phenomenon Harrison claims to oppose.
3. Amplification through Texas Scorecard.
Texas Scorecard, a media outlet closely aligned with Harrison, amplified the controversy with breathless headlines. Their coverage hardened perceptions before facts could be weighed. Rather than illuminating, it inflamed. Instead of encouraging reform, it demanded scalps. The Scorecard gave Harrison the echo chamber he wanted, but Aggieland was left paying the price.
4. The politics of humiliation.
Welsh was already addressing the issue internally: convening deans, reviewing syllabi, initiating audits, and eventually dismissing the professor. Yet Harrison framed him as weak, complicit, and unworthy of leadership. By never acknowledging the steps already underway, Harrison crafted a false narrative designed to humiliate rather than reform. It was political theater at its worst, high on spectacle, low on integrity.
5. A betrayal of Aggie values.
Aggie Core Values are not window dressing; they are supposed to define what it means to be part of this family. Respect. Excellence. Leadership. Loyalty. Integrity. Selfless service. Harrison, himself an Aggie, should have known better. Instead, his actions betrayed every one of those values:
- Respect: absent in his public shaming of Welsh.
- Excellence: sacrificed for expedience.
- Leadership: reduced to grandstanding.
- Loyalty: abandoned in favor of partisan optics.
- Integrity: compromised by selective framing.
- Selfless service: eclipsed by self-promotion.
6. The irony of cancel culture from the right.
Perhaps the deepest tragedy is that Harrison’s tactics mirrored the very critical-theory logic he claims to oppose. Progressives declare opposing views “harmful” and demand their removal. Harrison did the same: declaring certain classroom materials intolerable, demanding immediate removal, and vilifying those who hesitated. Cancel culture in conservative clothing is still cancel culture. It may score temporary wins, but it corrodes the culture of truth and honor we claim to defend.
Harrison may believe he was standing for righteousness. But his methods revealed pride, opportunism, and a hunger for headlines. That is not courage; it is cyberbullying. That is not reform; it is political theater. And that is not Aggie leadership; it is a betrayal of the very values this university holds most dear.
Theological Critique: Fighting Critical Theory with Critical Theory
At the heart of this controversy lies a tragic irony: in seeking to eradicate critical theory from Texas A&M, Rep. Brian Harrison borrowed its very methods. He fought critical theory with critical theory, and in doing so, undermined the very principles he claimed to defend.
1. What is critical theory?
Critical theory, and its offshoots in critical race and gender theory, reframe truth claims as power struggles. Disagreement is recast as harm, speech becomes violence, and dissenters are cast as oppressors. The end result is a culture of cancellation, where ideological purity is enforced not by persuasion but by pressure.
2. What Harrison did.
Consider Harrison’s playbook:
- He declared the classroom content harmful.
- He framed those who disagreed (including Welsh) as complicit in that harm.
- He bypassed direct dialogue and procedural integrity in favor of public exposure.
- He used social media shame campaigns and media allies to demand immediate removal.
This is precisely how cancel culture operates. The only difference was the ideological content: instead of “progressive orthodoxy,” Harrison was enforcing “conservative orthodoxy.” But the underlying method was identical, a weaponization of outrage to compel compliance.
3. Why means matter.
From a biblical standpoint, the means are never neutral. Romans 3:8 condemns those who say, “Let us do evil that good may come.” Proverbs 11:3 reminds us, “The integrity of the upright will guide them, but the crookedness of the treacherous will destroy them.” In other words, the end does not justify the means. To use the weapons of darkness is to surrender the battle before it begins.
4. The biblical alternative.
Scripture calls us to a different path:
- Matthew 18:15–17 (LSB): Handle conflict privately first, then with witnesses, then through the proper body.
- Ephesians 4:15: Speak the truth in love.
- Proverbs 18:17: Allow both sides to be heard before judgment.
- Romans 13: Respect proper authority, working through lawful means of reform.
This doesn’t mean we ignore indoctrination or tolerate error. It means we confront it in ways consistent with truth, love, and justice.
5. Why Harrison’s method cannot last.
Cancel culture wins quickly but burns out just as fast. It produces compliance, not conviction. It removes people, but it does not reform institutions. Harrison’s blitz may have forced firings and a resignation, but it did not build a healthier Aggieland. In fact, it left the university more divided, more suspicious, and more vulnerable to the very ideological battles he claims to fight.
Christians must reject this shortcut. We cannot fight critical theory by adopting its logic. We must stand on the higher ground of truth, integrity, and love of neighbor. Anything less is not victory, it is surrender disguised as success.
A Better Path for Reform
If Harrison’s approach showed us what not to do, then what should reform look like? How can Texas A&M, and higher education more broadly, protect students from ideological indoctrination without descending into the same cancel-culture tactics we oppose? The answer is not rocket science. It requires courage, clarity, and fidelity to principles, biblical and Aggie alike.
1. Clarify the catalog.
Every course must match its description. If a class is listed as “children’s literature,” students should not find themselves navigating a semester-long immersion in gender ideology. Faculty should have freedom to select texts, but those texts must align with the stated purpose of the course. Transparency is the antidote to suspicion.
2. Create conscience protections.
Students should never be punished for raising good-faith questions. In the viral classroom exchange, the student asked respectfully, “How does this apply to children’s literature?” That is not hate speech; it is academic inquiry. A&M should adopt explicit conscience protections ensuring students can dissent respectfully without fear of dismissal.
3. Strengthen due process.
Complaints about classroom conduct should follow a clear, quick-turn pathway: professor → department head → dean → provost → president. Had this process been visible and efficient, the controversy might never have left campus. Matthew 18 reflects the same wisdom: escalate step by step, not all at once.
4. Study critical theory, don’t indoctrinate.
Critical theory should not be taught as dogma in a children’s literature course. But it should be studied in philosophy, history, or cultural studies, where students can analyze, test, and critique it. This is how the Colson Fellows program approaches competing worldviews: not by ignoring them, but by studying them deeply enough to see their flaws. Shielding students from ideas makes them fragile; equipping them to evaluate ideas makes them strong.
5. Model public communication discipline.
Welsh’s failure was not integrity but narrative control. In a social-media age, leaders must communicate clearly and quickly. Silence creates vacuums; vacuums breed speculation. If Aggie leadership had narrated their actions in real time “we are auditing syllabi, meeting with deans, reviewing standards” the space for Texas Scorecard’s narrative would have been smaller.
6. Root reform in Aggie values.
Reform is not just about policy; it is about culture. Respect demands civility. Excellence requires diligence. Leadership calls for courage. Loyalty requires faithfulness. Integrity forbids deception. Selfless service rules out self-promotion. If Aggieland truly embodies these values, reform will not need to borrow cancel culture’s tools.
In short, reform is possible, but only if it rejects Harrison’s playbook of exposure and humiliation. Real change comes through transparent catalogs, conscience protections, due process, worldview education, disciplined communication, and fidelity to core values. Anything less is a short-term win with long-term costs.
Conclusion: Ends, Means, and Aggie Values
At the end of the day, this controversy is not just about a classroom, a professor, or even a university president. It is about leadership — and the way leaders choose to pursue reform. Representative Brian Harrison may claim he was standing for truth, but his methods betrayed the very principles he claimed to defend.
Yes, indoctrination must be rooted out of public education. Yes, critical theory must be studied but not preached. On these ends, I stand with Harrison. But the way he pursued those ends, through cyberbullying, social media grandstanding, and narrative manipulation, was a betrayal of both biblical truth and Aggie tradition.
The Bible is clear: the ends do not justify the means. Romans 3:8 condemns those who would do evil that good may come. Matthew 18 commands us to address conflict privately before going public. Ephesians 4:15 calls us to speak the truth in love. Harrison ignored each of these principles. He chose the path of exposure over dialogue, humiliation over reconciliation, and pride over humility.
And as an Aggie, that choice is doubly disappointing. The Core Values of Texas A&M, respect, excellence, leadership, loyalty, integrity, and selfless service, are not optional extras. They are supposed to guide how Aggies engage the world. Harrison’s actions undermined every one of them.
In the end, the resignation of Mark Welsh was not a victory for truth but a casualty of political theater. Cancelling a leader may score short-term points, but it cannot build long-term reform. If conservatives borrow the weapons of cancel culture, we will only perpetuate the very sickness we claim to fight.
The call, then, is simple: we must choose faithfulness over expedience, integrity over exposure, and reform rooted in values rather than performance. Anything less is not Aggie leadership. It is surrender dressed as victory.
