A Red-State Governor Went to Harvard and Was “Surprised.” That Says More About Politics Than College Campuses
by
Angela Valenzuela, Ph.D.
December 22, 2025
A former red-state governor went to Harvard expecting to be mauled by “woke lions.” Instead, he found students who listened, disagreed civilly, argued seriously, and went about the work of learning. He was surprised.
He shouldn’t have been.
What he describes at Harvard is not exceptional. It is what you would find on most college campuses in this country—including public universities, regional institutions, community colleges, and yes, UT–Austin. Not perfection. Not ideological purity. But classrooms where people with different views show up, talk, test ideas, and—more often than not—treat one another with respect.
The governor’s surprise exposes the real problem: politicians don’t know universities because they rarely experience them as places of learning. They know them through caricature—viral clips, outrage narratives, and a political economy that rewards attacking higher education rather than understanding it.
If more politicians actually taught a class, they might stop legislating from memes.
What happens daily on campuses doesn’t resemble the culture-war fantasy. Students are not a single political bloc. Faculty are not indoctrination machines. Courses are not scripts handed down from some ideological central committee. They are messy, human spaces where disagreement is routine and learning is slow.
At UT–Austin, I see the same thing this governor saw at Harvard: veterans sitting next to first-generation students; conservatives arguing with progressives; students wrestling with evidence, history, and ideas they didn’t expect to encounter. That’s not radical. That’s education.
The danger isn’t that universities refuse debate. The danger is that politicians increasingly refuse to see universities as democratic institutions at all. Instead, they treat them as enemies to be disciplined—through funding threats, curricular bans, loyalty tests, and the elimination of entire fields of study. That’s not defending free speech. That’s narrowing it.
The governor invokes Alexis de Tocqueville’s “spirit of association.” Good. But that spirit doesn’t survive intimidation. It survives when academic freedom is protected, when faculty expertise matters, and when students can explore ideas without fear that the state is watching the syllabus.
Here’s the challenge: if politicians truly believe in dialogue, they should do what this governor did—show up. Teach. Stay long enough to see how ordinary and unglamorous learning actually is. Sit through student presentations. Read their writing. Talk to students who disagree with you and still want the conversation.
They might be surprised again.
And if they are, the next step matters more than the essay they write about it: stop governing universities through suspicion and spectacle. Democracy doesn’t get rebuilt by attacking the few places where people are still practicing how to live with disagreement.
It gets rebuilt by entering those spaces—and telling the truth about what you find there.
I was a red state governor. What I saw at Harvard surprised me.
The spirit of association remains alive in unexpected places.
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