He was nearly screaming now, but his face was a mask of serenity belying the intensity and volume of his words.
I am at pains to describe exactly what happened next; it was so unusual as to defy easy description. First of all, though Renault conducted his classroom on a bit more relaxed basis than did other professors, this level of latitude was remarkable even for him. Secondly, Ling had heretofore been relatively invisible as a student. Certainly he was known; he had some friends and bunkmates, but he’d never conducted himself in this way before. Thirdly, though we were an emotional and patriotic bunch, I think none of us were quite sure what side of the argument we should be on. All of this is of course, not an unlikely response to what was indeed a remarkable situation. What was unlikely was what M. Renault did.
Amidst the rising chaos of the moment, Renault extinguished his pipe, lay his lecture notes aside, raised his hands and gestured for our silence.
“Students, such outbursts are unnecessary. M. Ling has indicated that he has himself conducted research into these alleged incidents. He has said that he has seen with his own eyes the evidence of these so called crimes. Sirs, we are not barbarians. We are Frenchmen, and we do not shout down those who would challenge us, nor do we fear to face the facts that may arise. Perhaps there is something to what Ling has to say. As I have said, any doctrine can be challenged, provided you have conducted the research to back your claims. You sir,” he leveled his eyes at Ling, “say that you have done so.”
“I have.” Ling answered with a certainty that could only be described as bordering on arrogance.
“Well then,” Renault continued, “bring it next class period, subject of course to the constraint of Imperial Army Educational Protocol 15.”
With those words a gasp went through the classroom and Ling visibly shuddered, losing the composure of which he was so proud.
“But sir,” he stuttered, no longer certain of his words, “Sir, I…”
“Is there a problem M. Ling?”
“Sir, with respect, I withdraw my question.”
“Are you certain? I am willingly to pursue the issue with you further.”
Ling bowed and spoke rapidly, his eyes fixated on the ground in front of him. “M. le Professeur, if you will permit, I respectfully withdraw my inquiry.”
“If you insist,” Renault replied, and with those words, Ling saluted and took his seat. The rest of us sat stunned into silence, as Renault sighed and resumed the lecture as if nothing has occurred.
We were as military students subject to the Imperial Armed Forces Educational Protocol, and Protocol 15 was one section of the educational code with which we were all familiar. It was the section of the Educational Code related to the intelligence services and provided recourse for students to file grievances against their instructors if they suspected them of treason, sedition, academic malfeasance, propagandizing, or “acts unbecoming an officer in his majesty’s Imperial Armed Forces.” It was a simple enough section, and many have thought that it used to squelch honest conversation or academic integrity at the university. Nothing could be further from the truth, for both students and professors were protected under the code, and the penalties for bringing false allegations against someone, as well as the rules of evidence governing such accusations, were extremely high.
Despite the complaints of some soft hearted, empty headed radicals, it is actually a bastion safeguarding the intellectual freedom of professors and students. It was unusual though to hear it invoked. Had Prof. Renault invoked the Code against Ling, and had Ling been found in violation, he would have been stripped of his rank, expelled from the university, and quite possibly reassigned to a less than desirable posting. As I’ve said though, such things rarely happen.