The Veritas Conflict (43 page)

Kai stepped up behind the giant angel, surveying the now-uncontested room. “General, as you can see, the ground is clear and the enemy was prevented from getting a message out.”

“Make sure the saints have time and protection to lay the groundwork. Each of these precious ones has been lasting all day, just as their colleagues have been praying and fasting in rotation all week. Give them as much time as they need.”

“Yes, sir.”

Petras looked around the room, meeting the eyes of each of the warriors chosen for just such a time as this. “It has been a long time, my friends. But with the Lord’s power, this ground will be retaken for His glory!”

The angels cheered. Petras drew his sword, extending it over the heads of the students. “Let us seal this place and protect their work.” Instantly, the room was enclosed within an arc of brilliant light, as the students began to pray.

Some of the young men and women sat and prayed silently. Others walked around the room, praying aloud in turn. Two students moved along the polished table, laying hands on every chair and praying for the occupant. Every now and then the students would join in snatches of a hymn or worship song, coming in unity before the throne.

And as they prayed, the warriors received their orders, moving to their assigned places in the room or departing for a strategic posting. Their faces were shining, their swords at the ready.

Sharon DeLay walked down the hall, nearly whistling. For some reason, she’d been in a great mood all day.

A demon flew behind her. He’d been in a terrible mood all day, ever since
that
had shown up. He glowered at the glowing warrior whose extended sword prevented him from sinking his claws into his prey. He was under the restraint of the Holy Spirit. He could feel it, and it irritated him nearly to distraction. At least they were almost there.

Sharon waved to Elsa Chasinov, and the two of them chatted in the hallway for a moment before making their way into the conference room.

The demon smirked and looked up at his tormentor as he flew through the wall—and straight into a blazing cauldron of light. The demon shrieked and clawed at his eyes as he shot back out into the hallway. What the heaven was going on?

Fifteen minutes later, amidst a sea of collegial chatter, Anton Pike tapped the gavel and tried to get comfortable in his seat. Something was wrong. He felt sick, but didn’t have the time to excuse himself and meditate. He was anxious to get this meeting over with. He had too many balls in the air as it was, and he needed to get with Victor soon to finalize their latest staffing decisions.

He tapped the gavel again, this time a little too loudly. “Let’s get started, shall we? I know we all have a lot to do today, and I’d like to keep things short.” He took a stack of papers and split it, passing the sheets to his left and right. Then he looked down at his copy.

“I’ll just run through our short agenda for today. First we’ll hear from a representative of the finance committee. Cheryl Crenshaw, the newly appointed director of the office of finance, will summarize the projections for next semesters budgets. She’ll tell you what resources you can expect to receive so you can plan for teaching assistants, your sabbaticals, and the like.” He grinned as he nodded toward the guest speaker. “Remember, we
like
Cheryl.”

Chuckles resounded around the room as he continued. “Okay, after that we have just some routine business: We need to send a few cases of cheating to the Honor Committee—” he glanced down the table—“Marvin, is there something special there, or can you just go ahead and skip that presentation?”

“That’s fine.” Marvin looked cheerful.

“And we need to hear from Howard about some of the schedule conflicts that might arise during the holidays,” he glanced at another professor, who nodded. “And then we’ll take a minute to talk through the latest proposal for reducing grade inflation. I know we’re all sick of the subject, but the president’s office wants to know whether we should hire a consultant.” He looked down at the final line on his agenda. “And finally, we have the last of the diversity task force reports. Professor Burke will address the subject of ideol …” Anton’s voice faltered, and he cleared his throat. “Um … ideological diversity?”

He looked around at the faculty members. “There must be some mistake. There’s no Professor Burke on this committee.” He scratched through that line with his pen. “I’ll just drop that from the agenda until we determine—”

“Actually, Anton, that’s my report.” Mansfield leaned back in his chair and reached for a stack of bound materials, which he hefted to the table. “Sorry about the mix-up. I don’t know how my teaching assistant’s name got listed instead of mine, but let me tell you how delighted he was to be promoted to full professor.”

The other faculty members chuckled. Anton plastered on a jovial smile.

“Well, Mansfield, you certainly seem to be well prepared. Do you have a copy of the report for every faculty member?”

Mansfield nodded.

“Good, good. Since I’m sure we’re all quite pressed for time, why don’t you just pass those out at the end.” He smiled around at the other members. “We can all read the task force conclusions for ourselves and then discuss them at some future date.”

Anton picked up his pen and gestured toward the first speaker. “Well, Cheryl, why don’t you—”

“Excuse me, Anton.” Jack Sprague, at the far end of the room, spoke up. “Sorry for interrupting, but I think its important to actually
hear
all the task force reports.”

Elsa Chasinov nodded. “Frankly, I don’t have time to read the bloody thing, so I’d prefer just to hear the presentation and make a decision based on the verbal recommendations. That would be a great deal easier.”

Others nodded their agreement.

Anton forced a laugh. “Of course, I totally understand. But I’d really like to help Mansfield and his people a little more, since they’re the last in a long string of these reports. We’ve heard so many of these things that the recommendations all sound the same after a while.” He mimed writing down a boring proposal. ‘ “Convene a subcommittee to figure out how to implement the task force recommendations.’ It would be so much better if we all just read the report and came prepared to talk about it at a later date.”

“It might be better, but let’s be realistic,” Mansfield said. “We’re all very busy, and few of us are going to take the time to read through this thing.” He hefted it in his hands and grinned. “Heck,
I
don’t even want to read it, and its my report!”

“But since we’re all busy today, I was just thinking that—”

“Look,” Sharon DeLay said, a little irritated, “we all have midterms to grade, and the next meeting will be even more pressed. Let’s just take some time now and be done with it.”

Anton forced himself to nod pleasantly. “Sure, then.” He gestured at Cheryl Crenshaw. “Sorry for the sidetracking. Please go ahead, Cheryl.”

He returned his attention to the papers in front of him, not hearing a word the finance director said. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched Mansfield listen and take notes.
That blasted man
.

A mile across campus, but adjacent in spirit, a group of students sat in a quiet dorm room, oblivious to the raucous noise of other students clattering in and out of the building on a beautiful Friday afternoon. Their heads were bowed, and their prayers were fervent as they interceded for the meeting that was in progress.

Claire lifted her face to the sun outside the window, her spirit exuberant. She had the strangest feeling that a race was being run.
Go, God, go
.

“Before you open the reports in front of you—and at the risk of teaching the teachers—let me ask you a question that will set the stage.” Mansfield looked around at the expressions before him: attentive, interested. Usually the faculty members couldn’t wait to leave.

He was filled with a sense of peace and breathed a quiet prayer of thanksgiving. He could feel the prayers of those interceding for this meeting.

“Let’s go back to the reason why were doing this exercise of increasing diversity to begin with. Why does Harvard—and other schools—place such an emphasis on diversity? We all know its a good thing, but what purpose are we trying to serve?”

One of the professors leaned back, clasping his hands behind his head. “Well, we want to purposely include those who may have been excluded in the past.”

“Yes, clearly. But
why
are we making such an effort? Are we just doing it to be nice?”

The professor smiled, and his voice grew magisterial. “Ah, I see what you’re getting at. No, of course that’s not the only reason. Fundamentally, we recognize that pulling together students of all races and backgrounds will enrich our environment in a way that might not have happened organically.”

Mansfield tried not to smile at the professor’s pompous tone.

“Studies show,” the man continued, “that those students who are exposed to many different experiences and beliefs learn far more than those who are not.”

“Exactly.” Mansfield clasped his hands together, punctuating his point. He rested his elbows on the table and looked intently around the room. “As all of us have seen, a classroom learning environment is fundamentally better when, for example, I have a poor student from the inner city who is willing to speak up during a discussion of the Great Depression. The other students’ experiences and assumptions are challenged, and everyone learns more. I’m sure you all agree.”

Most of the heads nodded. Mansfield blocked out the peripheral sight of Anton Pike’s set face and hard eyes.

“As we all know—and have been trying to do—we must go beyond fostering diversity
of race alone in order to achieve a fertile learning environment. Since different life experiences and beliefs enrich our classrooms, having a wealthy black student isn’t much more helpful than having a wealthy white student. But having that inner-city student, regardless of race, who knows what its like to use food stamps and hear gunfire outside—now
that
will stretch and enliven everyone else in the classroom.”

He tapped sharply on the document in front of him. “That, ladies and gentlemen, offers a starting point for our discussion of ideological diversity. Simply put, ideological diversity is diversity of
belief—
so as you can imagine, its probably the most fundamental way of ensuring a fertile learning environment.”

Mansfield noted that curiosity was growing more evident on the faces of some faculty around the table. Others looked cautious. He smiled agreeably.

“What our task force has found over the past two years is similar to what Sharon talked about with the alternative lifestyles task force: the absence of one whole point of view.”

He nodded respectfully at Sharon. She looked at him, her e
yes
narrowing.

“But in this case, the lack is even more egregious and pervasive—a widespread, active suppression of diversity. Where Sharon was concerned that class materials never mentioned the gay point of view, what we have found is that certain other—much broader—points of view are either twisted incorrectly, never mentioned at all, or mentioned and mocked. These points of view are those that could be described as conservative or those that are faith based.”

The room began to buzz, and Mansfield continued quickly. “Harvard prides itself on being a marketplace of ideas, but unfortunately that marketplace is set up in a way that de facto excludes a massive amount of input. This report lists thousands of cases where students were prevented from learning because of bias against those with faith-based or conservative belief systems. The evidence for this prejudice was so overwhelming that we could probably consider it systemic.”

The room erupted in protest. Sharon DeLay sputtered, “It is the bigoted religious conservatives that have oppressed other points of view for so long—how can you argue that they’re the ones being suppressed?”

Taylor Haller’s mouth was hanging open in astonishment. “Are you trying to tell us that you Christian right-wingers need special protection? Because let me tell you—”