The Veritas Conflict (45 page)

“For example, if your class is discussing a political hot button and you know you’re politically liberal, you need to try especially hard to pull in the viewpoints of conservative students. Now, most of you may already be doing this—or think that you are. But let’s be honest.” He pointed to the statistics on the board again. “its rarely a level playing field. I know that most of you are fair-minded enough to make an effort, but are you really working at it? Do you go beyond just calling on a conservative student once in a while?”

He cocked an eyebrow. “For example, when was the last time you included materials in your syllabus that you totally disagreed with ideologically?” He leaned on the table, looking around. “And I’m not talking about some token paper that makes the other side look stupid, either. You need to spend
extra
effort,
extra
time, to respectfully bring in these neglected or even oppressed viewpoints. You might call it affirmative action for the classroom.

“We should have the same level of effort for ideological diversity in the twenty-first century that we did for racial diversity in the twentieth. Its just as critical—perhaps more so, from a university’s perspective—because it strikes at the heart of academia, at the heart of how our students learn to
think
. That, after all, is the primary skill students will take away from their college years.

“In just five years very few of my students are going to remember what year the Magna Carta was signed.” He clasped his right hand to his breast and sighed. “Much to my everlasting regret.” Several around the table laughed. Anton Pike’s expression darkened, his lips pressing together.

“They may not remember what they learned about the Magha Carta, but every day for the rest of their lives they will use what they learned about how to
think
how to process information, how to analyze. What service are we doing them if we refuse to allow them to analyze between conflicting opinions?”

There was a long pause; then Elsa Chasinov spoke up, looking around at the other professors for support. “I understand that you truly believe what you’re saying, Mansfield, and your passion is commendable. But I have to respectfully disagree with your conclusion that other ideologies are suppressed. You should see some of the arguments students in my science classes get into, about all sorts of things. And yes, I may have my own worldview, but it is—as my colleague noted—an open-minded worldview. You’ll have to come up with a much better argument than—”

“Elsa,” Mansfield leaned with both hands on the conference table, looking directly at her, “in your biology classes, when was the last time you allowed an intellectual
discussion of evolution versus intelligent design?”

The room broke up in a clamor of exclamations and disbelieving laughter. Mansfield breathed an urgent prayer as he saw Anton raise his gavel. He rapped on the table with his pointer, and his voice rose above the din. “Ladies and gentlemen, just how
open-minded
are your worldviews right now?”

The clamor quieted abruptly, the loud disbelief momentarily suspended.

“Elsa, when you or any of our science professors prohibit discussion of the holes or inconsistencies in the theory of evolution, aren’t you just as guilty as the seventeenth-century church officials who prevented a fair hearing on Galileo’s ‘heretical’ theory that the earth revolved around the sun?”

“That’s ridiculous, Mansfield, and you know it!” Elsa looked like she was trying not to laugh. “Galileo was a scientist who was obviously correct in his theories, but the creationists of today are just simple-minded—” Elsa broke off, a strange expression on her face.

“Just simple-minded, religious, nonscientific people who are obviously incorrect in their theories? So we don’t need to talk about them? Is that what you were going to say, Elsa?”

Elsa’s cheeks were pink, but she held herself straight in her chair. “Yes, as a matter of fact. Something like that.”

Mansfield’s lips twitched. “Do you see my point, Elsa?” He looked around at the others. “There’s actually quite a bit of interesting scientific research on the intelligent design theory, but few students are allowed to even hear about it, much less ask questions about it. Look, I’m not talking about something radical here.
Of course
evolution is the predominant scientific theory of the day, and
of course
its going to dominate our science classes. But when there are credible scientists also studying intelligent design, why is that discussion not even allowed for ten minutes of one semester?”

He gestured to the elegant trappings of the conference room. “This is one of the greatest thinking universities in the world! Why shouldn’t we have an intellectual discussion on the issue? Is it perhaps because it requires some sort of religious overtone, and we’re no longer comfortable mixing science and religion?”

Taylor spoke into the uncomfortable pause that followed that question. His expression was thoughtful. “That’s an interesting point. If I’m honest with myself, I have to say that I am discomforted by students who say overtly religious things in my classroom.”

“If I might add to that,” Jack Sprague said, “I must admit to seeing this issue in a different light. Each of us believes strongly in the ‘tightness’ of our position, whatever that might be. And that’s fine. But when that translates into suppressing—or worse, mocking—the beliefs of others, we’ve gone too far.” He raised a warning hand.
“However
,
its one thing to avoid mocking an unappealing belief. Its quite another to actively include those beliefs when they may not be at all appropriate for an intellectual classroom discussion. I am most definitely not comfortable with the idea of using our classrooms as a religious platform.”

Mansfield inclined his head. “Absolutely. I’m merely trying to level the playing field so that—”

Rap! Rap! The
gavel cracked against the table, and Anton’s voice was congenial as he looked at his watch. “Well, now that we all respect one another’s positions, I move that we wrap up this discussion. We—.”

“Excuse me, Anton.” Mansfield’s voice was calm. “I’d like to have a few more minutes to present my recommendations and ask the steering committee to act on another issue of relevance. If that’s acceptable to my colleagues, of course.”

Several murmured assents could be heard.

Anton laid down his pen and adopted an amiable expression. “By all means, then.”

Mansfield stepped to his place at the table and flipped through the thick report. “If you’ll turn to page 6, you’ll see our conclusions.”

As pages rustled in response, he read several bullet points from the executive summary.

“ ‘In summary, it appears that the same environment that discourages conservative and faith-based ideologies at the classroom level is an outgrowth of higher-level administration policies—perhaps unrealized—that tacitly favor humanistic, secular ideologies.’ ” He looked up from the final sentence, which he knew by heart. “ ‘This bias, ladies and gentlemen, is verifiable, should not be tolerated in an esteemed institution such as Harvard University, and can begin to be addressed with a few simple actions on the part of the faculty and administration.’ ”

A chuckle rose from the chairman’s seat, and Mansfield looked up, irritated at the interruption.

“My dear colleague, before you continue I just have to make an observation.” Anton leaned back in his chair, clasping his hands behind his head. “It is fascinating to me that you would make the claim of such a pervasive bias in an institution that so values diversity. Frankly, your conclusion says more about
your
perspective than about any real problem at Harvard. Perhaps you are so steeped in your fundamentalist culture that you see true respect for diversity as some sort of bias or bigotry against your worldview. But that’s the exact opposite of the truth.”

Anton leaned forward, his voice measured and reasonable. “You see, Dr. Mansfield, hiding behind your claim of bigotry is the underlying assumption that
your
beliefs are inherently entitled to preeminence; therefore, anyone who dares to challenge that assumption must be biased.”

Anton placed his reading glasses on his nose. “That being the case, I believe we have spent more than enough time on this topic, and I know we’e all pressed for time.” He didn’t look up. “I move for a vote on Dr. Mansfield’s recommendations without further delay. Do I hear—”

“Excuse me, Anton!” Mansfield slapped his hand against the table. Several heads turned swiftly in his direction. “First of all, I haven’t yet presented the recommendations—or my other important findings—so how can we vote on them?”

“They are written in—”

“And second, I must address your accusation that I find bias just because people won’t accede to my supposed belief of superiority.” His voice quavered, righteous anger burning in his chest. “No,
no
. I want Harvard University to be a true marketplace of ideas—
including
religious and conservative ideas. You, Mr. Chairman, want it to be secular, without religious input, as if that would be neutral.

“The same argument,” he continued, turning back to his colleagues, “is often made in public high schools when people oppose religious input because of the separation of church and state. But the absence of religious input does not create neutrality. Instead, it leaves only one worldview standing: secular humanism. And secular humanism is
itself
a religion. It carries just as many beliefs about the order of the moral world, the existence of a deity, and so on as any of the other major world religions.

“Therefore, the absence of so-called religious input is not neutral but is instead actively hostile to faith-based points of view. And therefore you, Mr. Chairman, are guilty of exactly what you accused me of: You believe that the secular worldview is inherently entitled to preeminence, that it should be our default ideology.”

He slapped his thick report down on the desk. “I am not proposing action because I assume Christianity is inherently entitled to preeminence—although I do believe the absolute truth of the Christian gospel will win in the end—but because I believe we must allow a true marketplace of ideas and because squelching a whole stream of thought leads to both bias and an intellectual deficit. That’s why my primary recommendation is to convene a subcommittee—just like the other subcommittees from the other diversity task forces—to determine specific ways to counter this disturbing trend.”

Mansfield looked around at his colleagues. Jack, Elsa, Taylor—all the faculty members looked like people who had sat just a bit too long on a prolonged car ride. Jack stirred, murmuring something about moving to a vote. Others doodled with their pens, avoiding Mansfield’s eyes.

Anton leaned forward and raised his gavel. An instant later he paused and looked around at the awkward silence in the room. He closed his mouth and sat back in his chair, a small smile playing on his lips. Mansfield could practically hear his thoughts:
“All the more rope to hang himself with …”

Mansfield pulled something off his finger and flung it to the table, where it clanged and skittered along the polished surface. Everyone jumped slightly, their attention sharpening on the spinning signet ring. One by one, they looked up at Mansfield’s solemn face.

“That ring has a crest on it, a motto that’s been part of our unequaled heritage for hundreds of years.” Mansfield picked up the ring, turning the face toward his colleagues.
“Veritas
. Truth. We have a struggle for truth today, ladies and gentlemen, a struggle for
veritas
. We have thousands of young, impressionable seekers of truth come through these doors every year looking to visit and perhaps even make a purchase from the marketplace of ideas. My question is this: Will we allow all ideologies an equal spot in that marketplace?”

He breathed a silent prayer as he reached into his briefcase and pulled out a bulging folder. “Ladies and gentlemen, it seems clear that right now this argument doesn’t carry much weight with you. You truly don’t believe there’s much evidence—despite the numbers—that we face a systemic problem with suppression of ideological diversity.” He placed the folder on the table and looked at his colleagues. “I have here the smoking gun that proves you are wrong.”

He began to bring out one item after another: a yellowed sheaf of parchments, a small clothbound book, an old leather-covered folder. He laid them side by side on the desk in front of him.

“At our last meeting this committee—at the urging of the alternative lifestyles task force—sent a strongly worded request to the president’s office to expedite the release of certain scholarships for gay students that had been endowed three or four years ago. Remember? These materials here, ladies and gentlemen, document grants and endowments given for
faith-based
purposes, enormous sums that have gone unused or misused for decades or—in some cases—even hundreds of years.”

Mansfield noted with satisfaction the astonishment on many faces around the room. He was careful to avoid glancing in Anton Pike’s direction.

He held up each item, outlining the donor and their Christian directives—the Crist lectures, the Donaldson scholarships, the Grindley professorship. He described which moneys had sat unused, which had been misused.

Jack Sprague raised his hand. “But, Professor, you can’t seriously be suggesting that Harvard University hire a professor to teach creation science or some such thing just because a devout donor in the eighteen hundreds endowed a chair for that purpose?” He looked around at his colleagues. “Would we keep an instructor on staff to teach about UFOs just because someone long dead thought they were interesting? I mean, its quite understandable that you’d like Harvard to look into these lost endowments, but to require adherence to such outdated, eccentric stipulations would be crazy.”

“Really, Jack?” Mansfield’s tone was amused. “Have you ever heard of a little library expansion project that painstakingly cut out Wideners upstairs window, just so not a brick could change?”