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Key Takeaways

  • Texas A&M's new policy requires administrative approval for courses discussing race, gender ideology, or sexual orientation, raising academic freedom concerns.
  • Professor Bright's ethics course was canceled because the university claimed insufficient syllabus detail prevented compliance with the exemption process.
  • No state or federal law prohibits discussing race, gender, or sexuality in college classrooms; the new policy stems from internal university reaction to past controversy.
  • Faculty organizations, like the AAUP, oppose the university's policy, arguing it restricts the exploration of critical social and ethical issues.
  • The policy's implementation impacts potentially hundreds of courses, prompting wider scrutiny of syllabi across Texas public university systems.
Alright, let's talk about what's happening at Texas A&M, because it's a big deal for academic freedom and public policy. Imagine you're a student, just three days into a new semester, and suddenly your ethics class gets canceled. That's exactly what happened to ten graduate students at Texas A&M's Bush School, and it's all tied up in how the university is interpreting its new rules on race and gender. Professor Leonard Bright's Ethics and Public Policy course (PSAA 642) was designed to explore how things like race, gender, religion, and sexual orientation shape public policy, and what ethical duties public servants have. Sounds pretty relevant, right? But the university pulled the plug, claiming Bright didn't give them enough info to prove his class met the new system policy. This policy basically says courses can't advocate for specific race or gender ideologies, or topics about sexual orientation or gender identity, unless they get a special waiver from top university brass. Now, Professor Bright sees things differently. He's been teaching this course since 2018 and even chairs the Texas A&M chapter of the American Association of University Professors (AAUP), a group that's openly against this new policy. He told the Texas Tribune that he made it clear: discussions on race, gender, and sexuality weren't confined to a single day. They were going to pop up *every single day* through debates, book reviews, and case studies. He couldn't just list specific dates for these topics because they're woven into the fabric of the course itself. The university's stance, articulated by Bush School Dean John Sherman, is that without that detailed information, they couldn't follow the proper process for getting an exemption. Sherman said they needed clarity to ensure the course aligned with the policy. He wrote to faculty, saying he took "no pleasure" in canceling the class but it was a policy requirement. He also noted that another Bush School course needing an exemption *did* provide enough detail and was allowed to continue. This isn't just about one professor or one class; it's part of a much bigger shift. The Board of Regents passed this policy last year after a classroom discussion about gender identity was secretly recorded and shared online. Conservative groups and politicians raised a fuss, and suddenly, similar reviews of course content started happening at other public university systems, like Texas Tech. Here's where the legal and policy implications really hit home. There's no state or federal law that bans talking about race, gender, or sexuality in college classrooms. But state law *does* require public universities to post course syllabi online. In the wake of that controversy, however, professors are now being asked to submit syllabi for administrative review *before* certain courses can even start. This adds an extra layer of scrutiny that wasn't there before. What are the potential impacts? Well, first, it raises questions about **academic freedom**. Can professors truly explore complex, controversial topics if they have to pre-clear every potential discussion point? Bright's argument is that you can't always predict where an ethical discussion will lead, especially when dealing with nuanced topics like social identities in public policy. Restricting that could limit the breadth and depth of a student's education. Second, think about **due process**. Professor Bright wasn't asked to change his course content; his course was just canceled because, according to the university, he didn't provide enough *pre-emptive* information. This could set a tricky precedent for how faculty are treated when their teaching touches on sensitive subjects. Were there clear guidelines and a fair process for what information was actually needed? Bright and the AAUP clearly think the policy itself is problematic. Third, there's the broader public policy impact on **higher education in Texas**. If universities are consistently censoring or altering courses to avoid topics related to race, gender, or sexual orientation, what does that mean for preparing future leaders and citizens? These are often highly relevant issues in public administration, law, and social sciences. If discussions are stifled, are students getting a complete education that prepares them for the real world? About 200 courses in A&M's College of Arts and Sciences could be affected by this policy. There was even a report of a philosophy professor being told to remove Plato readings on race and gender or be reassigned. While the university clarified it wasn't a total ban on Plato, it shows the ripple effect of this policy. Michael Johnson, associate provost for academic enhancement, said the university has created guidance and a framework for syllabus review, and that it's interpreted by faculty, department heads, and deans. But the cancellation of Bright's class suggests that even with guidelines, there's still a lot of ambiguity and potential for friction. Ultimately, this situation at Texas A&M isn't just about one canceled class. It's a critical legal and policy test for academic freedom, how public universities interpret state mandates, and what kind of education students in Texas will receive moving forward. It’s a story we'll be watching closely because the implications go far beyond College Station.