A collaboration between Lewis McLain & AI
https://www.utexas.edu/academics/texas-statement-academic-integrity
When the University of Texas faculty released “The Texas Way: Academic Freedom and Its Responsibilities,” the intent was unmistakable. It was not a legal document, a political maneuver, or a coded message. It was a straightforward declaration of principle — that teachers should pursue truth, teach honestly, avoid indoctrination, and respect differing views. In an age that seems to doubt everything, that message should have been unifying. Instead, predictably, it became a target for some.
Almost as soon as it appeared, a familiar cycle began. Commentators dissected every phrase, searching for a hidden agenda. Lawyers and critics combed through the text, parsing its meaning like a contract instead of a creed. Words such as “balanced,” “germane,” and “indoctrination” were treated not as plain appeals to fairness but as traps waiting to be sprung. What should have been seen as a reaffirmation of trust was instead viewed with suspicion. The irony is that the statement itself warned against exactly that — the habit of turning open discussion into a minefield of motives. Why can’t a person say to another, “Be Good!” and more explanation be required?
There is a deeper issue here, and it goes far beyond one university document. We are living in a time when moral clarity itself is treated as a threat. The more plainly something is said, the more certain people become that it must be hiding something. Cynicism has become a reflex. Clarity invites attack, and sincerity is mistaken for strategy. The result is a culture where even the simplest affirmations of integrity are smothered under layers of analysis and doubt.
Reflection: The Spirit of the Texas Way
There is something discouraging about watching a plain statement of good sense be treated like a crime scene. The University of Texas faculty’s “Texas Way” declaration could hardly be clearer: pursue truth, teach honestly, avoid indoctrination, and respect differing views. That’s not controversial; that’s civilization. Yet the moment such a statement appears, a familiar pattern unfolds — analysts dissect every word as though it hides an ulterior motive, and critics line up to prove offense where none exists.
This reflex to litigate language before listening to meaning reveals more about the critics than the text. The urge to find fault, to anticipate grievance, to pre-arm for battle — these are habits of distrust, not of scholarship. They reduce moral principles to procedural puzzles. Academic freedom, like integrity, cannot be safeguarded by endless disclaimers; otherwise, it turns into an extended shelf of IRS-type regulations. It thrives when communities act in good faith, understand the plain meaning of words, and hold one another to standards of fairness and honesty without needing a lawyer present.
The “Texas Way” speaks to the better side of our civic character — one that assumes clarity of intent and answers good faith with good faith. The critics would do well to read it not as a legal brief, but as a declaration of shared trust: that we can teach, learn, and reason together without the perpetual suspicion that every word hides a trap. Common sense, not cynicism, is what keeps academic freedom alive. Is a professor who doesn’t know the difference between teaching and proselytizing really qualified to be in the position? Can they teach a course on Political Science and still have the students guessing their political affiliations by the end of the semester?
That reflection captures something essential — not only about the Texas Way but about the times in which we live. Academic freedom, like public trust, cannot be preserved by contracts alone. It depends on the willingness of people to take each other at their word. When faculty, students, and citizens stop doing that, no number of policies will save the principle. Legal language can define conduct, but only good faith sustains community.
The tendency to attack rather than understand reveals a deeper insecurity — a loss of confidence in our shared moral vocabulary. Once upon a time, we knew what words like integrity, fairness, and truth meant without needing to footnote them. We trusted that an honest statement of intent was just that: honest. Today, however, clarity is treated as provocation, and good intentions are met with preemptive suspicion. It’s a disease of doubt masquerading as vigilance.
The Texas Way stands as a modest antidote to that cynicism. It does not demand agreement on every issue; it asks only for honesty, humility, and respect in how disagreement occurs. It reminds educators — and the public — that freedom and responsibility are two sides of the same coin. One without the other leads to either tyranny or chaos. It also reminds us that universities, like democracies, depend on trust as their unseen infrastructure. When that trust collapses, rules multiply — and meaning drains away.
We would do well to recover the older Texas instinct: to take words at face value, to assume good faith until proven otherwise, and to remember that plain speech is not a flaw but a virtue. Texans once built towns, companies, and churches on a handshake — not because they were naïve, but because they believed a man’s word was his bond. That same cultural DNA can still guide the life of the mind.
The Texas Way doesn’t need to be “interpreted.” It needs to be lived. Its call to pursue truth, teach honestly, avoid indoctrination, and respect differing views is not a political statement. It is a cultural one — an appeal to rediscover our shared sense of fairness and restraint. If every reader applied those words in spirit, rather than searching for loopholes, the meaning would be self-evident and the controversy nonexistent.
Common sense is not beneath academia; it is its foundation. The more we replace trust with suspicion, the more we destroy the very freedom we claim to defend. Let the lawyers have their policies and the cynics have their doubts. The rest of us can still recognize a plain truth when we see it — and honor it for what it is.
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