Where Are Cornell's Priorities?

When Cornell decided to embark upon the construction of a premier nanofabrication research facility, they gave the architect these directions: block as much of Phillips and Upson Halls as possible and make it look good. Duffield Hall was to be an architectural masterpiece that would transform the engineering quad from an unsightly mishmash of seventies facades into a beautiful space befitting this prestigious institution. Yet I am still waiting to hear even a single ooh or ahh from a student walking by. I have, on the other hand, heard many a complaint that typically includes a question of what on earth that random room is doing stuck to the side of the building. My answer is that Cornell is trying to show its wealth off in the wrong way.


For those of you who may not have walked down East Avenue in the last year, let me give you a mental image of Duffield so you have a frame of reference. The massive structure covered in metallic paneling looks like a large box looming over the intersection of East Avenue and Campus Road. Its barrel-vaulted roof makes it resemblant of an airplane hanger while it has six large chimney stacks popping out of the top to disperse the hazardous vapors coming from the laboratories. Then there's the architect's signature element: protruding from the top floor of the perfectly rectangular building is one cantilevered room. Architecture students say it looks like a mistake, like someone just took a room, slapped it on the side of the building and forgot they had put it there.


The structure required to make a room of that size -- supported only by one wall with nothing under it -- is not something to be trifled with. The expense of this room is immediately obvious to any passerby with a basic understanding of building design. Save giving off the image of luxury, that room was a costly endeavor with no practical purpose. The financial expense of that room has been justified for purely for aesthetic reasons, and for someone with a much different aesthetic appreciation than mine.


Unlike Princeton, which has so much money in their endowment that they have started giving educations away for free, Cornell has limited funds to be spending on construction projects. When the estimates came in on Duffield and were tens of millions of dollars more than originally expected, corners started to get cut. One of the items that got the axe was funding for an ultra-efficient heating, ventilation, and air conditioning system. In the original plans, Duffield Hall was expected to increase the campus energy load by about eight percent. Lowering the efficiency of the mechanical systems not only created a greater environmental impact but also a greater annual expense to be taken from the operating budget every year unless the university opts to pay for some radical improvement down the line. And we're not talking about five hundred dollar electric bills like many people have at home, but hundreds of thousands of dollars each year.


What does the efficient mechanical system have to do with the cantilevered room? One was saved and the other was nixed. One would have reduced University costs in the long-run and lowered environmental impact while the other would show off the University's wealth and please the architect. I believe the University made the wrong decision.


The decision has been made, though, and there's no going back at this point. While the University cannot change poor decisions made in the past, it has the opportunity to learn from its mistakes. The University is currently embarking on many large construction projects such as the new Life Sciences and Physical Sciences buildings. Similar questions of priorities will come up as the architects for those buildings go through design iterations.


One such question that resurfaces with each project -- then quickly quashed -- is the idea of putting photovoltaics (PV) on these new buildings. Photovoltaics are solar electric systems that create electricity by simply sitting in the sun. They do not move or make noise, they do not spew any dirty emissions, and they require virtually no maintenance. They can be incorporated into a building's envelope, becoming part of the building itself, thus displacing other construction materials while providing an integrated, aesthetically pleasing look. And the best part is, they make the most electricity in the mid-day when demand, and subsequently prices, are highest.


Yet, all good things have a catch. PV makes electricity which has a monetary value and, therefore, inherently has a financial payback. Good, right? Not the way Cornell thinks about it. The PV industry is still young and small, meaning that initial costs are high. Cornell pays a reduced electric rate because it is the largest electricity customer on this section of the grid so that the electricity produced by PV on campus has a lower monetary value than elsewhere. Combine the price of PV with Cornell's low electric rates and it makes for a very long time before a PV installation on a Cornell building would pay for itself. Thus, in every instance it has been proposed, "The Powers That Be" have decided that putting a large PV array on campus is not in the best financial interest of the University.


To put all this in perspective, I'd like you to imagine that PV had no more usefulness in this world than a cantilevered room overlooking the engineering quad. Suppose it were just a fancy material one could use to clad buildings and proclaim the thickness of one's wallet. Suppose people would construct an image of Cornell as a prestigious institution that is taking a leadership role in improving the energy situation of this country and the environment to boot just by walking past a PV array on a campus building. What then? Would the University decide that it is a good idea and choose to include it in the next major building on campus? Just because PV has a useful byproduct, it should not be judged solely as an unworthy economic venture while cantilevered rooms that end up costing the University money yet give nothing in return are considered features to be proud of. Next time the University's operating budget is strained, I'm hoping someone higher up makes the connection and reprioritizes in favor of energy conservation.

Archived article by Abigail Krich