Breckenridge Texan

The battle for control of Texas A&M.

Editor’s Note: This column originally appeared in The Dallas Morning News, where Glenn Rogers is a contributing columnist.

In the summer of 1976, I was a student at Texas A&M University, taking a political science class. I was trying to get into veterinary school and was very GPA conscious. My professor was a young liberal with unkempt long hair. I had the standard Corps of Cadets haircut. In appearance, politics and philosophy, we were worlds apart.

One late Friday afternoon, I ran into him at Northgate — a popular row of socializing establishments across the street from campus. We had some interesting discussions over more than one beer at the Dixie Chicken.

I thought I was going to fail his class because of our obvious disagreement on most political issues. Growing up in a small, rural conservative town and then attending Texas A&M, I had been quite sheltered from opposing views.

On the final exam I knew my answers to essay questions were highly inconsistent with his beliefs. Surprisingly, and to my relief, I made an A. In comments on the exam, he stated he did not agree with my conservative stance but was impressed with my arguments.

He never changed my views, and I never changed his, but we were allowed to have the interaction.

If that professor had not been allowed to teach due to differences of political ideology at the bastion of conservatism known as Texas A&M, neither one of us would have experienced this healthy exchange.

And now there’s a segment of Texas Republicans that wants to prevent just that kind of growth.

A political firestorm

In September, Gen. Mark Welsh resigned from his role as president of Texas A&M. A student’s confrontation with a professor about gender identity content in a children’s literature class was secretly recorded. State Rep. Brian Harrison, a prolific grandstander and media hound, proceeded to make the recording public by launching a relentless and vicious social media attack on Welsh. Public outcry from Aggies and non-Aggies alike led to calls to fire the popular university president over his handling of the situation. Lt. Gov. Dan Patrick inserted himself in the discussion supporting Welsh’s removal.

Not to be outdone by the Aggies, University of Texas grad (and governor) Greg Abbott called for the firing of the professor. Abbott does not have the authority to fire faculty, but does appoint university regents who do. He later stated that Texas will go after professors for “ideological differences,” sending chills up the spines of academics.

A proud history

Before proceeding, I must confess my bias. I am a second-generation Texas Aggie, a former member of the Corps of Cadets and Ross Volunteers, and the father of an Aggie. My old buddies from the cadet corps have sustained close friendships, with 45 consecutive annual reunions and continuous communication. Aggies are my closest friends.

Texas A&M, an all-male military college until the 1960s, is now one of the largest public universities in the U.S. with more than 79,000 students in College Station and nearly 170,000 in a statewide network of 12 universities. Despite the size and increased student diversity, A&M is still considered one of the most conservative large universities in the nation.

While participation in the Corps of Cadets is no longer compulsory, the Corps maintains around 2,500 members, is considered the “Keeper of the Spirit” and plays an oversized role in the university’s identity and leadership.

Past presidents

University presidents of the past have made major contributions, not just to Aggieland, but our great state, our nation and the world.

As a freshman, or “fish,” in the Corps of Cadets, I memorized (and still can recite verbatim) the inscription on the back of the pedestal supporting a statue of former university President Lawrence Sullivan Ross, which identities him as a “soldier, statesman, knightly gentleman.”

Another university president, James Earl Rudder, gallantly led forces during the D-Day invasion and scaled the perilous cliffs at Pointe du Hoc overlooking Omaha Beach. Under heavy fire, 50% of his men made the ultimate sacrifice, yet the Americans gained a crucial beachhead for Allied forces.

After the war, Rudder served as commissioner of the General Land Office of Texas and then president of Texas A&M College. Rudder led Texas A&M through remarkable and highly contentious changes that propelled the school to new levels of national prominence.

Former and active students mostly opposed his efforts to end compulsory military service and admit women. His effigy was burned along with angry shouts from a large crowd marching around his home. Yet, through his vision and strong leadership, the Corps of Cadets became optional and women and African Americans were allowed admittance. These were huge steps for an all-white, all-male military institution inaugurated in 1876.

On Veterans Day in 2020, I was honored to deliver the speech at a dedication in Rudder’s honor at the Central Texas Veterans Memorial in Brownwood. There, I met Rudder’s daughter and two nieces.

Rudder was succeeded by Alvin Luedecke, an Air Force general, general manager of the United States Atomic Energy Commission, and deputy director of the Jet Propulsion Laboratory during the Space Race.

In the early 2000s, Robert Gates assumed the office. He had served as director of the CIA before his term as president of Texas A&M, and followed that by serving as secretary of defense.

Most recently, Welsh, a four-star general and former Air Force chief of staff and commander of the U.S. Air Force in Europe, served as A&M’s 27th president.

The impressive legacy of university presidents in College Station is not to be taken lightly. It’s a post that should command respect, not fealty to the whims of Austin politicians.

Who is in control?

As I have written before, Texas state government is arguably controlled by Republican megadonors Tim Dunn and Farris Wilks and their cadre of allied organizations. Almost no one who wins a Republican primary in this state does so without their approval.

But controlling the Legislature is apparently not enough. Texas universities must now be enlisted to achieve these oligarchs’ march for control, indoctrination and compliance for all Texas citizens.

As a conservative, I support efforts to rein in diversity, equity and inclusion programs and prevent the promotion of transgender ideology. What I do not support are the tactics and underlying efforts by theo-oligarchs to control not only Texas government, but the entire public education system of our state, including public universities like Texas A&M.

The Wilks/Dunn cartel has aggressively pushed for purity tests for every candidate for Texas speaker of the House, all Republicans, for well over 15 years. Expect the same for future Texas A&M presidents. And expect the chances of horizon-broadening conversations, like the one I had with a liberal professor in 1976, to vanish.

What would Rudder do?

The Rudder Association was established in 2020 after vandalism of the Lawrence Sullivan Ross statue and a movement to remove it from the A&M campus. The stated aims of the organization are to defend and perpetuate the core values of Texas A&M.

I applaud its objectives, but having Michael Quinn Sullivan, the publisher of Texas Scorecard, a Wilks/Dunn mouthpiece, speak at its annual meeting is the antithesis of preserving those core values. Unfortunately, it appears Texas Scorecard and the Dunn/Wilks vast network is now exerting major influence over my alma mater.

Countless Aggies have courageously served this country to preserve our freedoms, including free speech and some ideological differences. Would Rudder’s courageous leadership have survived in today’s political climate of social media keyboard warriors and dominionist oligarchs? Could even a war hero and dedicated public servant with impeccable leadership experience survive politically today?

Rudder once defined courage as the “ability to do the right thing regardless of what’s happening.”

Rudder did the right thing in the face of German machine gun nests in France and angry protesters in College Station. For the sake of our state and one of its proudest institutions, I hope the next Aggie president faces down political pressure with the same courage.

Glenn Rogers is a rancher and veterinarian in Palo Pinto County. He served in the Texas House of Representatives from 2021 to 2025, representing Stephens County. He is a Dallas Morning News contributing columnist.