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On Saturday, in the second-floor ballroom of the brick-and-mortar heart of our downtown Ithaca office, The Sun gathered to elect its 144th Editorial Board. Hours and hours of deliberation ensued as the next generation of editors, for a paper that has remained unwaveringly independent since 1880, were elected by their peers.
With these words in June, President Michael Kotlikoff announced what he called “financial austerity” at Cornell: “We must immediately address our significant financial shortfalls by reducing costs and enacting permanent change to our operational model.”
David Duffield’s $371.5 million gift to Cornell University is being celebrated as a triumph of innovation, vision and progress. New laboratories will be built. Nanoscience will advance. Engineering will bear his name for generations. And yet, for all its magnitude, the gift is ultimately irrelevant to the most urgent problem we face: how to keep ourselves from destroying one another.
Crossing between the spheres of science and politics, former United States Congressman Rush Holt brought his breadth of experience to a talk and panel discussion in Goldwin Smith Hall on Thursday. Holt reflected on how the current state of science in the U.S. came to be and outlined possibilities for where it can head in the future.
Up a dirt driveway in Trumansburg, New York, amongst a patchwork of grass and snow, I could see a red barn perched welcomingly against the sunset-streaked horizon. Bohemian sun and moon decals ornamented the outside walls, and a row of solar panels lined the roof. Through the top window, illuminated by the glow of lights strung between the battens, the outline of a crowd was visible: Friends, family and townspeople gathering to enjoy an evening of Americana tunes.
I want to write a song. This is nothing new. All too often, when I sit down with my guitar and notebook, I find myself trapped in the jaws of writer’s block. I may land on a small melodic or lyrical section I like, but then I struggle to come up with anything I consider good enough to follow it. Time after time, perfectionism stifles creation; I get so attached to the hope of writing something wonderful that I overthink it and end up barely writing anything at all. My creative possibilities are endless, but when I fixate on an unattainable ideal, these possibilities can never come to fruition.
Last year, I wrote an article about my choice to disaffiliate from my sorority following what I felt was an inherent link between Greek Life and sexual assault on Cornell’s campus. Perhaps it was naive of me, but I felt at that time that there was a mounting pressure on Cornell’s administration to do something. I thought that the horrific occurrence at Chi Phi brought with it a sort of finality. Then I thought back to the incidents that occurred during my freshman year — a group of assaults at a fraternity that also held an air of finality about them too, but still no substantial strides were made. Still, I had some hope.
If senior defenseman Jack O’Brien’s final week at Cornell is anything like his first week, he wants no part of it.
When the bare branches above begin to shed a whirlwind of snowflakes onto the ground below, many Cornellians prepare to brave the harsh winter winds of a false spring, feeling the breeze in their The North Face coats (and also in their hearts). College students across universities would agree that cold winters bring an inexplicable longing for warmth — the emotional kind. The very first winter breeze triggers a surge in couples holding hands and budding pairs across campus, many of whom seem to materialize out of thin air. It’s a campus-wide phenomenon that none of us can escape.
Spoiler warning: This article contains details from the plot of Tender is the Night.
Since coming to college, I’ve found myself taking fewer pictures than I did in high school. My camera roll is filled with the same rotation of photos: the gorge frozen over, a sunset taken from the North Star Dining Room balcony and the chalkboard in my PSYCH 2090: Developmental Psychology lecture with notes I can never seem to write down fast enough. Any pictures I take feel more functional now; they hold less weight, less meaning.
This article contains spoilers for Bridgerton Season 4.
Prof. Emeritus Biodun Jeyifo, literatures in English, died on Feb. 11 in Lagos, Nigeria at the age of 80.
Sun photographers captured the energy and action across campus in a sports-packed week of basketball, lacrosse and gymnastics.
The rise in extremist rhetoric facing U.S. politics today shouldn’t come as a shock to anyone. We saw during Donald Trump’s first term, the general exacerbation of harmful speech displayed for the world to see. It's how he garnered attention, how Trump won the vote.
Cornell’s top administrators attended a University Assembly meeting on Tuesday, discussing the University’s handling of free expression, campus safety and long-term financial planning.
You think that you are the coolest person in the world. Your friends go to you for recommendations and nobody else. Obviously, they can’t know you get your favorite songs and personality from Spotify’s “my life is a movie” playlist, which you browse through now. A wave of relief passes over you as you notice that “Fade Into You” by Mazzy Star is still near the top. I wonder if she has any other songs?
Cornell reported $180,000 in federal lobbying expenditures for the fourth quarter of 2025, according to its latest filing with the U.S. Senate, bringing its year-to-date total to $1,094,000.
Once upon a time, film began in the theater. From marquee to end credits, the experience was confined to a single darkened room, where story and spectator met in silence. Lights down, trailers over, the studio logo flickering across the screen. In today’s media landscape, that moment can feel more like a midpoint than a beginning. Long before your ticket is scanned, you have likely already consumed hours of cast interviews, red carpet footage, behind-the-scenes clips and viral moments circulating on social media. The press tour is no longer just a marketing strategy; it is a performance in its own right. Increasingly, our impressions of a film, our expectations, attachments and even criticisms, are formed long before we ever step foot in the theater. What used to feel like anticipation now feels more like conditioning. We arrive not as blank slates, but as audiences already coached on how to watch.
Solutions by The State News
