The Veritas Conflict (23 page)

“Aha! That lack is the very point!” Sharon leaned forward, tapping on the thick report in front of her. “Our concern in the classroom is less about the
presence
of something and more about its
absence
. There is very little academic support for the person living a nontraditional lifestyle. For example, while multiple textbooks in sociology, philosophy, history, and so forth refer frequently to the traditional ideas of marriage and the husband-wife-child family unit in their stories and anecdotes, almost none carry references to same-sex unions or gay parents of children. Gay, lesbian, and transsexual students reading these books see nothing they can relate to. They feel like outcasts—odd and unacceptable.”

“So what you’re saying—” Elsa settled back in her chair, clasping her hands behind her head—“is that gay students in my biology and physiology classes feel discriminated against because I don’t actively include their lifestyles in my academic curricula? Because my books and research materials are silent on the subject?”

“Exactly. You can understand how uncomfortable it is for
me
to constantly be confronted with this insidious bias in our textbooks day after day, much less for an eighteen-year-old gay student who already feels awkward in an unfamiliar environment and may not yet be comfortable with themselves and their way of being.” Sharon’s voice grew stronger, and she hefted the report in her hand. “It is obviously unacceptable for a university of Harvard’s caliber to let this silent bias continue. We must lead the way for inclusiveness in language and content, to support the choice of the gay lifestyle, for example, as a healthy alternative.”

Staring at her face, Mansfield felt as if a cold cloud were descending on the room.
He shivered despite himself and looked down the table. Elsa was pursing her lips, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Hmm. Interesting.” Without knowing why, Mansfield found himself suddenly praying for her.

Taylor Haller cleared his throat. “And another thing, if I may?” He glanced at Sharon.

“Please.”

Taylor flipped quickly through the task force report. “If you go to page 57, you’ll see another issue that is actually far more serious than the silent bias that Sharon is talking about. It actually relates to some content we’ve found in biology, sociology, and psychology textbooks, including one that you use in your class, Elsa. We’ve actually found several passages inferring that the same-sex impulse might be the result of pathology from childhood trauma or other wounds inflicted on a person’s psyche. You can imagine how frustrating it is to have finally eliminated—after many years of hard work—the archaic medical references to homosexuality as a type of illness, for example, only to have an equally damaging inference pop up in it’s place.” He jabbed his finger hard at the report in front of him. “And with all due respect, Elsa, you have this—this garbage in your classroom!”

Elsa was looking at Taylor curiously. “I’m not sure what you’re suggesting. These texts contain the latest medical research on all types of biological and behavioral issues, including the segments that you’re mentioning. I mean yes, some of it is controversial, but it
is
outlining rigorous and credible scientific testing and analysis, after all. So we can’t really argue that it doesn’t have its place in the scientific discussion, now can we?” She looked up, and stopped short when she caught his expression. “Can we?”

Taylor just stared at her and pursed his lips.

“Look, you’re not seriously suggesting that…” Elsa’s voice trailed off, and her eyes flickered back and forth to the various task force members. Their faces were flat, their expressions stony.

Mansfield could still sense the Lord’s restraint on his own participation. He prayed furiously.
O Lord God, break through the darkness surrounding this discussion. Give her the words to say and the courage to say them. Open her eyes to the tactics of darkness, and help her see them for what they are
.

From across the room Kai could see a sword glowing through the infestation, moving toward Elsa Chasinov. Etàn, his giant frame hampered on all sides by the grasping, hissing spirits, came within a sword’s length of the professor. The thick hordes would not permit him closer access, but Etàn at least had his mandate from the Lord. He rested
the tip of the blade on Elsa’s shoulder. The spirits surrounding her retreated slightly from the white-hot light that, for just a moment, blazed forth from the sword.

Elsa held up both hands, palms outward. “Wait a second. What exactly are you suggesting here?”

“We have found,” Sharon said, “that in order to have true diversity in academia we cannot be hampered by a bigoted environment. It’s important to avoid moral judgments against human beings who pursue lifestyles different from the norm. Obviously, the textbook passages were talking about make a hurtful judgment when they imply that same-sex attraction arises from some problem in a gay person’s past.” Her voice was indignant. “As if gay people start out as straight and are
made
to be gay somewhere along the way.”

“I’m sorry. I honestly don’t understand. Are you suggesting that we eliminate scientific data from the classroom simply because you don’t
agree
with it?” Elsa looked around at several other committee members around her. “Are we talking about censorship? Censorship at
Harvard?
”

Other faculty members began to murmur, and Mansfield sucked in his breath.
C’mon … keep going! You’re getting it!

Sharon looked affronted. “Of course not, Elsa! Of
course
we’re not talking about censorship.”

Sure you are
. Mansfield quivered with the strain of remaining silent.

“We were tasked,” Sharon gestured at her task force members, “with the responsibility of encouraging and protecting an academic environment in which all people can feel included. The university has rightfully decided that we must achieve a goal of real diversity, and as such there are unavoidable choices to be made. Either we are encouraging diversity or we are not. Sometimes, in order to achieve the greater good of real diversity, we have to set aside other things that are also good, such as exploring every little detail of every little scientific avenue of study.”

Mansfield’s thoughts shouted.
And exactly why is achieving diversity a greater good than learning
—
at a university of all places?

“As you yourself said, the textbook passages you are referring to are describing
theories
of behavior, not yet proofs. Wouldn’t it be better, given the potentially hurtful impact of the content, to wait until these theories are actually proved—or disproved—by science before including them in your curriculum?”

“But this is
science,
Sharon!” Elsa looked at her colleague, incredulous. “Much of the point of science involves delving into research areas that aren’t yet proven. We can’t just pick and choose what—”

“Sure we can. We absolutely should keep the greater good in mind.”

Mansfield shook his head slightly, exasperated.

Sharon caught the movement out of the corner of her eye and shot a glare in his direction. “For example, would you say—would any of you say—that biology classes in the first half of this century were correct in teaching the medical theory that African-Americans couldn’t see well at night, or that their brains didn’t work like those of white people? Of course not. It was hurtful to those minority students who attended university and had to listen to that garbage. But it was the
science
of the day!”

Various faculty members nodded thoughtfully, and the room grew silent. Mansfield watched Elsa look around, her brow furrowed.

Sharon gazed calmly at the others around the table, measuring her words. “We as faculty at a leading university in this country must ensure that this same sort of hurtful bias does not continue today.”

Mansfield saw agreement in the eyes of many around the table. Elsa drummed her fingers on the table for a moment, then leaned forward and looked at Sharon. “Let me—

Rap! Rap! Rap!

All heads snapped toward the front of the room. Anton Pike set down the gavel and looked at the clock next to the door. “In the interest of time, we need to wrap up this discussion and move to a vote on the proposals before us. I have a conference call in a few minutes, and I’d like to take agenda items for our next meeting before I leave.” Pike glanced down at the executive summary. “You outline several recommendations on page 4—eliminating pejorative books and introducing gay/lesbian issues into classroom curricula, for instance. You then conclude that for the next step, the task force should select members of this steering committee to decide how those recommendations would be implemented—in essence, creating a subcommittee to come up with specifics.” He looked up briefly from reading the report. “Do I have this right?”

“Absolutely.”

“So right now all we need to decide is whether or not to convene the subcommittee to take this to the next step? We aren’t voting on any of your page-four recommendations yet?”

“That is correct.” Sharon looked around the table. “We’re simply asking this steering team to endorse our findings and allow us to continue working to develop an implementation plan. The larger committee can vote on the specifics in a few months.”

“Well then, let’s have a voice vote.” Anton’s voice was brisk. “All in favor say aye.”

A series of assents rippled around the room.

“All opposed, nay.”

Mansfield and a few others—Elsa among them—gave a quiet dissent.

Bang
! The gavel came down. “The ayes have it, and the motion is carried.”

Sharon raised her hand.

“Yes, Sharon, anything else?” Anton glanced at the clock again.

“Just one more quick matter. We would like to send a note from this steering team to the president’s office about something we discovered during our research. Over three years ago, the American Gay and Lesbian Alliance provided Harvard with an endowment to fund five scholarships a year. These scholarships would be given annually to seniors who had made significant social and/or academic contributions to the advancement of gay, lesbian, and transsexual rights.

“Unfortunately, the actual implementation of the endowment has gotten bogged down in paperwork in the finance department, and not a single scholarship has been given. For
three years,
seniors have come and gone without these scholarships, and many of these students could have benefited from the funds, I’m sure. This delay is utterly unacceptable, and I would like to send a strong complaint to the president’s office.”

Anton made a note. “Absolutely.” He looked around the room. “Are we in agreement?” When everyone nodded, he rapped the gavel. “Well then, we’ll send a note to the president tomorrow.”

He pulled a page from his organizer. “Okay. Let’s take agenda items for the next meeting, and my assistant will type it up and distribute—” A soft buzz from his pager interrupted him. “Rats, my conference call is on.” He strode quickly to the door and handed the paper to someone outside. “My assistant Martin will take any agenda items, in addition to the few I already have listed.” Pike slipped out.

Martin went down the list checking off items and adding new ones as various faculty members chimed in. Mansfield prayed furiously, wondering how on earth he was going to bring up the Ideological Diversity Task Force report without raising red flags that would alert Anton Pike.

“… then Professor Gannett will go through the plans for our holiday schedule. And wrapping it up, the committee will hear the final diversity report from the ideological diversity task force. That discussion will be led by Professor … um … Burke.”

Mansfield grew still.
How did Ian’s name get listed?

“Any further agenda items?” Martin looked around the room. “Well then, it looks like this meeting is adjourned. Thank you, Professors.” He rapped the gavel lightly.

Mansfield remained in his seat as his colleagues began rising and stretching, a slow grin playing across his features.
Well, I’ll be
.

TWENTY-ONE

T
HE VIEW FROM THE FORTY-FIRST-FLOOR
corner conference room was magnificent, but the twelve men and women surrounding the table took little notice. It served its purpose of impressing visiting clients, but otherwise there was little point in lingering on the view. Time was money.

More and more files and spreadsheets cluttered the desk as the group conducted its business. From time to time, people on the conference call chimed in. The participants were all good humored, but the tension in the room was evident. The quarter earnings were due in, and the stakes were high.

Just outside the room, the phone rang at the ultra-tidy desk of an executive secretary.

“Helion Pharmaceuticals.” The secretary’s pleasant voice dropped a notch. “Certainly, Mr. Pike. I’ll get him right away.”

She punched the hold button and stood quickly to her feet. One of the new receptionists was approaching, and the executive secretary raised a hand, forestalling the newcomer, as she rapped on the conference room door.

“Mr. Statton? I’m sorry to interrupt. Mr. Pike is on the phone—”

The door was jerked open by an irritated man wearing a gray wool suit, starched shirt, and expensive tie.

“What!”

“Sorry to interrupt. Mr. Pike is trying to reach you—he and his brother. He said they couldn’t get through on your cell.”

She could hear expressions of consternation on the other side of the door.

The man quickly checked the tiny cell phone on his belt. “He’s waiting for our figures. Tell him I’m on my way down to thirty-nine. Transfer the call to my second extension there.”

“Yes, sir.” The executive secretary watched as he collected several sheets of paper and then headed at a brisk clip toward the elevators. She waited a moment, and then punched the transfer sequence.

The young receptionist leaned casually on the desk. “The boss is a busy man.”