Texas Southern University's Future Hangs in the Balance as New Regents Take Control

Texas Southern University stands as a beacon of opportunity, a place where first-generation students and communities of color have long found a path to brighter futures. Yet, the recent appointments to its Board of Regents, announced by the governor’s office, stir a mix of cautious optimism and unease. Ben Proler, Alithea Sullivan, and Lauren Gore bring impressive resumes, but their arrival raises a question that lingers like a stubborn fog: will they serve the students or the political machine that placed them there?

Proler’s business acumen, Sullivan’s legal expertise, and Gore’s military and legal background paint a picture of capability. On paper, they’re a strong fit for a university striving to grow its endowment and research profile. But TSU’s mission isn’t just about numbers. It’s about nurturing talent in a state where equitable funding for historically Black institutions remains a fight, not a given. The stakes couldn’t be higher, and the governor’s picks signal more than just new faces at the table.

These appointments land at a pivotal moment. TSU grapples with leadership turnover, stagnant state funding, and pressure to align with broader university systems, a move that could dilute its unique identity. The regents’ decisions will ripple through lecture halls, dorms, and communities for years. Will they champion the students who rely on TSU, or will they bend to political winds that prioritize control over progress?

TSU’s new regents aren’t just stewards of a university; they’re players in a larger game of power. Proler, a Shell manager and Navy Reserve lieutenant, brings corporate and military discipline. Sullivan, a Harvard-trained attorney, offers legal sharpness. Gore, a veteran and private equity partner, blends battlefield grit with boardroom savvy. Their credentials impress, but credentials don’t tell the whole story. In Texas, gubernatorial appointments often come with strings, and many regents have historically been major political donors, raising questions about whose interests they truly serve.

Data paints a troubling picture. Studies show two-thirds of Texas university regents have donated to the governor’s campaigns, fueling perceptions of a system where loyalty trumps merit. This isn’t unique to TSU, but it hits harder at an institution already stretched thin, where every dollar and decision matters. When regents prioritize political agendas, like pushing for system integration or cutting programs deemed too progressive, students lose out. TSU’s independence, a hard-won badge of its HBCU legacy, hangs in the balance.

Contrast this with TSU’s needs: more on-campus housing, better student services, and faculty support to boost graduation rates. Alumni and advocates have been vocal, demanding leaders who see TSU as more than a political chessboard. The university’s strategic plan aims for 10,000 students and a $125 million endowment by 2025, ambitious goals that require regents to fight for funding, not just nod along to state mandates. Yet, some argue these appointments are a step forward, bringing fresh perspectives to a board in need of stability. That view falters when you consider how often connected insiders steer resources away from classrooms to flashier projects, like athletics or donor-driven initiatives.

The counterargument, that experienced appointees bring valuable networks, isn’t baseless. Gore’s ties to KIPP Texas and Sullivan’s legal pedigree could open doors to partnerships. But networks alone don’t fix underfunded student services or leadership churn, with TSU cycling through four presidents in a decade. What students need are regents who’ll roll up their sleeves, not just leverage their Rolodexes. The risk is real: when board members double as political operatives, universities become pawns, not priorities.

This isn’t just about TSU. Across Texas, regents shape policy, from tuition hikes to curriculum battles. In Houston, board members have pushed athletic programs over academic needs; in Austin, they’ve tangled with lawmakers over faculty governance. TSU’s regents, new and old, will face similar choices. Will they advocate for students, or will they play it safe, aligning with a governor’s office that’s shown little urgency in closing funding gaps for HBCUs?

TSU’s potential is boundless, but only if its leaders prioritize the right things. The university’s plan to expand research, grow enrollment, and stay independent isn’t just a wishlist; it’s a blueprint for transforming lives. Students aren’t asking for miracles, just resources to match their ambition: more advisors, updated labs, a campus that feels like home. The new regents could be catalysts, using their clout to secure state funds and protect TSU’s autonomy. But that means standing firm against pressures to conform, whether it’s joining a state system or bending to legislative overreach.

History offers lessons. Past TSU boards have fought tooth and nail to keep the university’s mission intact, even when state support wavered. Today’s regents inherit that legacy. They also face a Texas where legal education, a TSU strength, is evolving fast, with diverse graduates entering a tech-driven field. Sullivan’s legal background could guide TSU’s law school to new heights, preparing students for AI-powered courtrooms. Gore’s military service could inspire programs that support veterans, a growing TSU demographic. Proler’s business ties might attract corporate partners. But none of this happens if politics overshadows purpose.

The alternative, letting TSU drift into a state system or starve for funds, isn’t just a policy failure; it’s a betrayal of every student who chose TSU for its promise. Other viewpoints, like those pushing for system integration as a cost-saving measure, miss the mark. Consolidation often strips institutions of their soul, turning unique campuses into cogs in a machine. TSU’s value lies in its independence, its ability to serve students who might otherwise be overlooked. That’s worth defending.

The new regents have a chance to prove skeptics wrong, to show they’re here for the students, not the governor’s favor. They’ll need to listen to alumni, engage with faculty, and fight for every dollar TSU deserves. Anything less sells short a university that’s been a lifeline for generations.

Texas Southern University isn’t just another school; it’s a proving ground for resilience and dreams. The new regents, Proler, Sullivan, and Gore, hold its future in their hands. Their choices will decide whether TSU thrives as a hub of opportunity or stagnates under political weight. Students deserve leaders who’ll battle for their success, not just polish their own resumes.

This moment demands courage. TSU’s regents must reject the easy path of compliance and embrace the harder one of advocacy. They owe it to the students, the faculty, and the communities that TSU has served for decades. The governor’s office may have appointed them, but their loyalty belongs to Texas Southern, to its mission, and to the countless lives it transforms. Anything less would be a failure not just of leadership, but of vision.