State Representative Brian Harrison is outraged. About what, exactly, depends on the day.
On April 9, for example, his outrage stemmed from a motion on the House budget bill that passed 126-20. The motion called for moving nearly 200 amendments—including Harrison’s anti-DEI (Diversity, Equity, and Inclusion) ones—off the debate table. Already anticipating slogging through 14 hours of debate, most lawmakers jumped at the chance to avoid back-and-forth on those divisive amendments that had virtually no chance of being adopted.
Harrison, however, wasn’t having it.
“This is outrageous,” Harrison said, his raised voice incongruent with his cherubic face. “This tyrannical motion effectively silences millions of people.”
This wasn’t the first time (nor certainly the last) that Harrison, a second-term representative for the 10th district in solid-red Ellis County, had taken to the mic on the House floor to berate his peers and rave against the chamber’s leadership. It’s also not the first time he’d been thwarted by embarrassingly lopsided votes.
Harrison is one of about a couple dozen or so ultraconservative Republicans who form a loud but relatively ineffective insurgent faction in the House. Of the group, Harrison is the loudest and most ineffective, so much so that even his most sympathetic compatriots have declined to join in his performative shows of outrage, and have even publicly bristled at his attention-seeking tactics.
Harrison started this session angry when state Representative Dustin Burrows, a veteran Republican from Lubbock, won a hotly contested race for House Speaker. Harrison has repeatedly accused the new speaker of conspiring with Democrats, and was one of over 20 reps who voted against the new House rules, which he dubbed the “Democrat Empowerment Act.” (Note: the House rules for the first time banned Democrats from chairing committees.)
While many of his fellow right-wingers have opted for a more strategic approach under Burrows’ speakership, Harrison has never let up. He’s incessantly complained about the House moving too slowly to advance key legislation and for taking off long weekends in the early months of the session.
His disdain continued to build until April 8, when he filed a motion to vacate the chair. The parliamentary maneuver to remove the sitting House speaker requires a simple majority vote, though it’s rarely been invoked—the last time it was successful was in 1909. Harrison gave an impassioned speech, declaring that in his brief tenure at the helm, Burrows has acted “tyrannical” and “forfeited [the] moral authority” needed for the role. The speech was met with boos, and laughter, especially in response to Harrison’s claim that he’s “not here to fight for Brian Harrison’s interests.”
“Let them laugh, let them hiss, let them scoff,” he shot back.
On a vote to kill Harrison’s motion, only the freshman state Representative David Lowe joined with Harrison as it was struck down 145-2. Four progressive Democrats and one Republican voted “Present Not Voting.”
Jim Henson, director of the Texas Politics Project at the University of Texas at Austin, said that since the Republican legislative majorities have solidified in Texas, this type of vocal, dissenting hard-right legislator has become a perennial feature of each legislative session. “There are disruptive forces on the right in the House that want not just to push their policy priorities but want to disrupt and change the process,” Henson said.
There’s been a revolving cast of right-wing reps who’ve played this role in recent sessions, most infamously former Bedford state Representative Jonathan Stickland, who waged war against the House leadership from the floor by routinely trying (and sometimes succeeding) in killing major legislation.
Though Harrison has certainly slowed down the legislative process at times, he’s been more successful at drawing attention to himself than instigating change in the legislative process. “There is a healthy dose of ambition and self-interest in the approach that he’s taking, and that’s generating a lot of opposition among his colleagues, including Republicans,” Henson said.
Take, for instance, state Representative Tony Tinderholt, a leader of the House’s hardliner faction who unsuccessfully challenged Dade Phelan for the speakership last session. After Harrison’s failed attempt to take out Burrows, Tinderholt issued a scathing statement suggesting the Midlothian state rep has appropriated the anti-establishment reform cause for his own political ends. “Today’s effort was not about reforming the Texas House. There was no path to improving our chamber today. A coalition of conservative legislators stood together. Representative Harrison stood for himself,” Tinderholt said.
Some of Harrison’s crusades warrant his outrage and attention—such as his emphasis on the GOP prioritizing costly new pet projects over property tax relief, the routine lack of transparency in the committee process, the clubbiness of those inside House leadership, and the ways in which dissent is sometimes squashed on the floor. But Harrison’s insatiable scorched-earth tactics and his holier-than-thou rhetoric have alienated his fellow House members to the point where valid criticisms remain unheard, or more often, ridiculed. So, he soldiers forward as an army of one—and perhaps, he prefers it that way. “Harrison, R-Himself, has been called a ‘Stunt Queen’ and is the worst possible messenger for what could have been some compelling arguments,” wrote the Capitol insider and Quorum Report editor Scott Braddock. “Being right but doing it wrong helps no one.”
Before Harrison began his residency as the then-nascent rabble rouser at the Texas Capitol in 2021, he was (gasp) a politically appointed government bureaucrat in the Bush and Trump administrations, most notably as the chief of staff for the Health and Human Services Secretary Alex Azar from 2019 to 2021. In between government stints, he ran a labradoodle breeding business. He left the Trump administration for the political arena and was one of several Republicans in a crowded 2021 special election to replace the late GOP Congressman Ron Wright’s in the 6th Congressional District.
He ran as a MAGA warrior (though he didn’t get Trump’s endorsement), but garnered just 10 percent of the vote as then-state Representative Jake Ellzey went on to win. That campaign did, however, help catapult him to victory in the special election battle for Ellzey’s Texas House seat.
In an early April interview with the Texas Observer, Harrison said his agenda this session is modeled on President Donald Trump’s “American First Liberty Agenda.” Hence his “Texas First Liberty Agenda,” where he said his priority is to make Texas the “number one state for liberty in America.” To him, this means shrinking the role of government as small as possible.
“We’ve got a reputation in Texas for leading in freedom and liberty, but for far too long, we’ve just been coasting on that reputation,” Harrison said. “As government grows, liberty decreases and I’m looking to reverse that trend.”
He says this as his fellow Republicans have controlled every statewide office and both legislative chambers for two decades. Texas also spends $1,500 less per capita than the national average for spending by state, according to the nonpartisan Tax Policy Center.
On January 31, Governor Greg Abbott issued an executive order calling for state agencies to end all DEI hiring practices and Harrison has since taken it upon himself to become Abbott’s enforcer. Upon Burrow’s election as speaker, Harrison was able to use his relative seniority to secure a coveted position on the powerful House Appropriations Committee, which controls the pursestrings of state government. Using that high-profile post, he questioned several agency leaders at budget hearings about their DEI practices. That quickly led to one of the first headline moments in the early days of the session.
During a February 27 subcommittee hearing, he questioned Texas Water Development Board Chair L’Oreal Stepney, who is Black, about the Board’s hiring practices with an intensity that left Stepney, an Abbott appointee, in tears. Democrat Representatives Nicole Collier and Armando Walle both came to Stepney’s defense during the hearing. “You merit this position. You and many who have fought long and hard to be in the positions of authority that you deserve to be in,” Walle said. “The attacks on people’s character has got to stop. I call on my colleagues to quit these attacks.”
Abbott, Burrows, and Lieutenant Governor Dan Patrick all took to X to defend Stepney. Representative Greg Bonnen, appropriations committee chair, called Harrison’s behavior “unacceptable.” For his part, Harrison told the Texas Tribune his line of questioning was “perfect.”
In addition to state agencies, Harrison has been particularly concerned with how universities are “promoting DEI.” He filed House Bill 2339, which would prohibit universities from offering courses or programs in DEI or LGBTQ+ studies, and House Bill 2311, which would remove the language protecting curricula and research from Senate Bill 17, which prohibited DEI offices and practices at Texas public universities.
“The people do not want their money to be used by the government to fund things like DEI and liberal gender ideology,” Harrison said. “Our public universities are for education, not for indoctrination, and unfortunately, that’s not the case right now.”
He’s targeted his ire at the state’s two flagship universities, Texas A&M and the University of Texas at Austin. He’s accused A&M of flouting anti-DEI mandates, and even referred his alma mater to the Trump admin. This has drawn rebuke of A&M’s president, who accused Harrison of spreading blatant falsehoods. “Your posts are routinely inaccurate and misleading,” President Mark A. Welsh III wrote in a February letter. ”I won’t stand by when I see inaccuracies about our institution spreading quickly.”
He said his crusade against gender and ethnic studies isn’t a social issue, but rather, a fiscal one. “Over my dead body are you going to rob my constituents blind to pay for [LGBTQ+ studies],” Harrison said.
The state pays for about 10 percent of UT’s full budget; at the university, the LGBTQ+ studies program’s $59,566 budget comprises less than 0.01 percent of the total operating budget for the 2024-2025 fiscal year. By comparison, UT’s conservative Civitas Institute, which was created under Lieutenant Governor Patrick’s direction, is nearly 200 times larger.
Though gender and ethnic studies make up a seemingly small percentage of taxpayer dollars, Harrison said any amount of money going towards these programs is “taxpayer abuse.”
“If the University of Texas doesn’t cut this crap out, they don’t need a single penny more from my already over-taxed constituents,” Harrison said.
In late March, Harris ventured from the Capitol grounds to the UT campus to go “undercover” at a “transgender conference.” The conference in question was the Women’s and Gender Studies’ annual graduate student academic gathering, titled “Rethinking Health and Well-being: The Politics of Collective Care and Body Sovereignty.” Harrison professed horror at what he witnessed—”pronouns everywhere,” for one—in a 25-post thread on X, complete with pictures. He succeeded in drawing online attention as his dispatch drew over 4 million views. The following day, he released a statement demanding that UT immediately terminate its Women’s, Gender and Sexuality Studies Department.
He also posted that he stole a book from the University’s LGBTQ+ library. The Department of Women’s Gender, and Sexuality Studies chair filed a police report with the UT Police Department on March 29 for the theft.
When asked if he knew about the police report, Harrison laughed and said, “the University of Texas is a government entity, and I’m a constitutional officer of the state of Texas.” (State lawmakers are immune from most criminal arrests during legislative sessions, though people who commit petty theft are rarely subject to jail time.)
“I’m very proud of my actions,” Harrison said. “As far as I’m concerned, if other elected officials in Texas want to go and remove everything from the LGBTQ library, that’d be just fine,” Harrison said.
Harrison says this is all part of his elected duty to eliminate government spending and cut taxes.
“I’m one of the only elected officials in Austin fighting to protect taxpayer money. “I am fighting like hell for the taxpayers. There’s nobody in Austin fighting harder for taxpayers,” Harrison said. (It’s declarations like these are why many of his colleagues dismiss him as a self-centered charlatan.)
The House budget, passed April 10, included a total $51 billion of property tax relief—about 15 percent of the total budget—including $6.5 billion in new tax cuts. Harrison was one of the 26 members to vote against the budget, which he railed against as “the most liberal, bloated, reckless budget in the history of Texas.”
In 2023, none of his bills passed. With a month until the end of this session, all 71 of his bills currently languish in committee. One such bill, House Bill 872, his anti-ESG bill, was first called to the Committee on Judiciary and Civil Jurisprudence at the end of April, but Harrison missed the layout and the bill was ultimately pushed to next week.
The extra week didn’t do much for Harrison, who floundered as multiple committee members grilled him on the bill. Each time a committee member questioned his knowledge on the bill, Harrison responded petulantly with “that’s not true.” In a tense exchange, committee Chairman Jeff Leach called Harrison out for being on this phone: “I’ve never had a member actively on his cell phone while he’s laying out and answering questions from a fellow member.” Harrison asserted that he was not tweeting, but rather was looking up answers to a member’s questions. A heated Leach eventually threatened to cut Harrison’s mic. “When you lie, and you mislead, and you deceive not only the fellow members of the House, but the people of Texas, you deserve to be called out, and your microphone deserves to be cut off,” Leach said. “Frankly, I’m just tired of this nonsense.”
The Midlothian Republican constantly criticizes the House for being, as he sees it, a “corrupt den of liberal dysfunction.” For Harrison, this is illustrated the time spent passing honorific resolutions, like that of Representative Lauren Ashley Simmons’ resolution in early February, to Beyoncé, a native of Houston, for winning the Grammy for Album of the Year for Cowboy Carter. (The House devotes part of its floor time, especially early in session, for members of both parties to pass such honorific measures.) The House spent about five minutes speaking on the resolution; Harrison has tweeted about the resolution over two dozen times since February.
The Observer reached out to some top Democratic legislators about this session’s anointed heal, but none agreed to talk on the record. The Texas House Democrats’ X account, however, makes the minority caucus’ views clear: “Brian Harrison, of all the clowns, you’re the court jester.”
This past Saturday, with time running out in the final weeks of session, the Texas House worked the weekend for the first time to take up a large agenda of bills—including marquee conservative social legislation dealing with biological sex and transgender healthcare. Harrison started that morning with a parliamentary maneuver to call out the lack of a quorum on the floor, which delayed the chamber from starting its business.
When the House finally did come to order, Harrison took to social media to complain that a brief interlude for a mariachi band performance was emblematic of the leadership’s purposeful ineptitude. “GOP priorities are dying because we wasted the first half of session, and property taxes are increasing,” he wrote. “Texans, you’ve been betrayed.”
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