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The Architecture of Science

Back to the future. Suppose for amoment that you are the chair of afaculty team at Cornell University inthe year 1905 and are charged withthe responsibility for developing plansfor a new science building. You, how-ever, have the foreknowledge that thisbuilding is the one in which a youngman from Columbus, Ohio, ThomasMidgeley Jr., will one day learn his ba-sic science. Further, you know whathe will do over the course of his ca-reer. You have only this one chance toaffect the mind of the man who willotherwise someday hold the world’srecord for creation of banned toxicsubstances by developing leaded gas-oline and chlorofluorocarbons. Whatwould you do? Before developing thebuilding program, could you engageyour faculty colleagues in a conversa-tion about the kind of science to betaught in the building? Would it bepossible, in other words, to make ar-chitecture a derivative of curriculum?Would it be possible to signal to allentering the building that knowledgeis always incomplete and that, atsome scale and under some condi-tions, it can be dangerous? Is it possi-ble to make this warning similar tobut more effective than the SurgeonGeneral’s warning on a pack of ciga-rettes? If you succeed, the catastro-phes of lead dispersal from automo-bile exhaust and the thinning ofstratospheric ozone from chlorofluo-rocarbons will not occur.

Of course, the design of sciencebuildings alone is not likely to influ-ence young minds as much as doteachers, peers, and classes, but it isfar from inconsequential. Frank LloydWright once said that he could de-sign a house for a newly marriedcouple that would cause them to di-vorce within a matter of weeks. By

the same logic it is possible to de-sign science buildings in such a waythat they contribute to the estrange-ment of mind and nature, deadeningsenses and sensibilities. Indeed thisis the way we do it. Typically, sci-ence buildings are massive and for-tresslike and give no hint of intimacywith nature. Their design is utilitar-ian, with long, straight corridors andgraceless square rooms. Neither day-light nor natural sounds are permit-ted. Windows do not open. Air, ex-pensively heated and cooled by thecombustion of fossil fuels, is forcednoisily through the structure. Toxiccompounds vented from laborato-ries drift toward neighborhoodsdownwind. Neither the building norclasses taught in it give any reason toquestion human domination of na-ture. Both celebrate the advance ofhuman knowledge, giving no hint ofthe things we do not or cannot knowand little cause for humility in theface of mystery. Accordingly, theyconvey the mistaken impression thatevery advance of knowledge is a de-feat for ignorance. They are dedicatedto one particular discipline and, ifprofitable, to the commercial exploita-tion of knowledge. Architecture insuch buildings does nothing to softenor improve human relationships. Con-versation in offices, lecture halls, andcorridors occurs within a narrow en-velope of disciplinary language andassumptions, sharing little in commonwith that of the humanities. Visitorscoming into such buildings often feelas if they were in an alien place. Onsome campuses, entrance is grantedonly to those with a security clear-ance. The surrounding landscape ispaved over for parking. And it iswidely believed that this is a goodplace for the young to learn science.

On the other hand, I believe it ispossible to design science buildingsso well that they can help promotenot only conventional smartness butalso a wide-angle view of things, alove for the Creation, and a sense ofwhat Gregory Bateson once calledthe “pattern that connects.” Archi-tectural design is unavoidably a kindof crystallized pedagogy that in-structs in powerful, if subtle, ways. Itteaches participation or exclusion. Itdirects what we see, how we move,and our sense of time and space. Itaffects how and how well we relateto each other and how carefully werelate to the natural systems fromwhich we extract energy and materi-als and to which we consign ourwastes. Most important, it influenceshow we think and how we thinkabout the act of thinking. For archi-tecture to instruct in positive ways,we must be willing to question old as-sumptions about the human role innature that are often embedded in thedesign of science buildings, just asthey are embedded in a curriculumwith roots going back to Bacon, Des-cartes, and Galileo.

But no such assessment can takeplace within the safe and comfort-able confines of any single discipline.It is as much a conversation aboutethics, politics, economics, and soci-ology that affects how knowledge isused in the world as it is about biol-ogy, chemistry, geology, or physics.It cannot be conducted in the lan-guage of any one discipline but onlyin the common tongue. It requires ahigh level of honesty. It is a conver-sation about what, given our presentcircumstances, is worth knowingand what is not. It is, in other words,about our priorities in an increas-ingly perilous time in human history.

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Such a conversation takes time andpatience, and its outcome will likelyoffend the fundamentalists inclinedto defend science at all costs on theone hand and those who wouldhave it serve political purposes onthe other.

To illustrate the problem, our chil-dren now have some 300–500 chem-icals in their fatty tissues that do notbelong there and whose effects areunknown. We do know, however,that cancer, reproductive problems,and behavioral disorders are increas-ing virtually everywhere. Exposureto chemicals is ubiquitous, comingthrough the food we eat, the air webreathe, and the water we drink. Itcomes with exposure to plastics,farm chemicals, gasoline additives,carpets, building materials, and lawnchemicals. Some 100,000 chemicalsare in use worldwide, some of whichare long-lived and can be found inany routine sample of soil, air, andwater. How did this happen? It hap-pened in large measure because of akind of promiscuous chemistry pro-mulgated by petrochemical compa-nies, aided and abetted by academicscientists who trained chemists andinfluenced the larger moral, political,and social framework in which chem-istry would be practiced. Many aca-demic scientists made their peace tooeasily with those who used knowl-edge too carelessly. This is by nomeans an argument against the studyof chemistry. But it does raise seri-ous questions about the kind ofchemistry we teach and the largerecological, intellectual, moral, andpolitical framework in which chem-istry is taught and practiced. It ispossible, in other words, to practicechemistry as if evolution, ecology,and ethics do not matter, but it isnot possible for them not to matter.

Some will respond by saying thatthe chemistry we now practice, Su-perfund sites and all, is the best of allpossible chemistries and that all ofthe disadvantages are merely theprice we must pay for a high standardof living and the unavoidable result ofadvancing human knowledge. But as

we learn more about the effects ofexposure to chemicals as well as al-ternatives to chemical use, both re-sponses ring hollow. Are there prob-lems for which the use of chemicalsis not an appropriate solution? Farm-ing, for example, has become heavilydependent on chemicals, with omi-nous economic, ecological, and hu-man results. But we know of alterna-tive and better farming methods thatrely on ecological relationships, cul-tural information, and a sophisticatedknowledge of chemistry, not petro-chemicals. Is there another kind ofchemistry to be taught and practiced?Some think so and believe that themodel is found in the various waysthat nature does chemistry (Benyus1997). We make long-lived toxic com-pounds in large quantities and broad-cast them by air and water virtuallyeverywhere. Organisms in nature, bycontrast, often make toxic com-pounds, but do so in small amountsthat are contained and biodegradable.In 3 billion years of evolution lots ofthings were tried, many of whichwere discarded. What remains is a setof exquisite strategies tested over mil-lions of years. By comparison, indus-trial chemistry, about a century old, isclumsy and destructive. Accordingly,the rule of thumb ought to be that ifnature did not make it, we should noteither. Exceptions to that rule oughtto be made cautiously, on a smallscale, and for reasons that will appearto be good and sufficient to thosewho will have to bear the conse-quences a century later.

The standard for chemistry mod-eled along the lines of natural sys-tems is no longer whether it is possi-ble or profitable to do but whether itfits within the larger evolving fabricof life on Earth. Is it toxic? Does itbreak down? Do we know what itwill do in the world over the longterm? And where does it fit in a just,caring, and competent society? Thestandard would no longer be simplythat of the well-run experiment butthat of ecological health. A chemis-try curriculum, accordingly, wouldfeature the study of evolution, ecol-

ogy, biology, politics, as well as eth-ics. It would equip students withguidelines for which elements shouldnot be joined together or taken apartand why. Students would be requiredto read Marlowe’s

Faust

, Mary Shel-ley’s

Frankenstein

, and Melville’s

Moby Dick.

A better kind of chemis-try is beginning to emerge in fields ofindustrial ecology and among compa-nies pioneering concepts like “prod-ucts of service” in which items suchas carpet are returned to the manu-facturer to be remade (McDonough& Braungart 1998). But it has yet totake hold in the teaching of aca-demic chemistry or in the petro-chemical industry.

Lest I appear to single out chemistryunfairly, let me hasten to add that sim-ilar things could be said of the othersciences and social sciences that havetoo easily accommodated themselvesto the defense establishment, oil com-panies, biotech companies, and globalcorporations. My point is not to estab-lish guilt but to propose a more scien-tific—which is to say skeptical—science that is better calibrated to therigors of protecting life.

We will survive a century of dioxin,DDT, chlorinated hydrocarbons, Su-perfund sites, ozone holes, and nu-clear bombs, but with a far smallermargin for ecological error than wemight have hoped for. We are enter-ing a new era in science in which ge-netic engineering and biotechnologyare taking center stage. Will it prove tobe less destructive? I doubt it. On thecontrary, given our present course, Ithink it has the potential to be evenworse. We are on a course to repeatmany of the same kinds of mistakesin biology that were made in the de-velopment of chemistry and for someof the same reasons of hubris, igno-rance, greed, and the reductionismthat removes problems from theirlarger context. One can easily imag-ine books that will be written 50years hence that will echo themesfound in Rachel Carson’s

SilentSpring

(1962), Lewis Mumford’s

ThePentagon of Power

(1967), and DavidEhrenfeld’s

The Arrogance of Hu-

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manism

(1978). In this light, howmight the design of science facilitieshelp us avoid repeating old mistakes?

First, the design process shouldbegin not by addressing spatial needsand disciplinary priorities but by re-thinking the curriculum taught inthe building. The overwhelming factof our time is that we are in seriousjeopardy of “irretrievably mutilating”the Earth and causing “vast humanmisery” in the process. All else palesby comparison. In the century aheadour students will need, in RichardLevins’ words, a science that empha-sizes “wholeness and process in com-plexly connected networks of causesthat cross the boundaries of disci-plines” (Levins 1998). They will need,in his view, the intellectual agility tocombine reductionist science with alarger view of causality that includesother species, mind with body, com-plex interactions, and the intricateways in which social patterns and hi-erarchies affect outcomes.

Because conversation at this depthis unlikely to happen in competitionwith classes, email, fax machines, tele-phones, and committee meetings, theprocess of design must begin with fac-ulty, students, and others meeting offcampus. Given the normal state ofcampus politics, it would be wise toengage the services of an adept facil-itator. The goal is to discuss honestlythe relationship between the thingsstudents will need to know in thecoming century in order to protectand enhance life and the curriculum.Discussion about program details andarchitecture should follow. What atfirst appears to be a difficult and per-haps threatening conversation, how-ever, has the potential to generateintellectual excitement, greater colle-giality, and a higher level of scienceeducation and research.

Second, the actual building de-sign should say to our students whatwe would like them eventually tosay to the world. Because it is irre-sponsible as well as foolish to wasteenergy, the building ought to use en-ergy with the highest possible effi-ciency. Because we are nearing the

end of the fossil fuel age, the build-ing should be powered largely by ad-vanced solar technologies. Becauseit is irresponsible to discharge toxicwastes, laboratories should be de-signed with a zero discharge stan-dard. Because it is irresponsible todestroy forests, all wood used in thebuilding ought to be harvested fromthose that are managed for long-termsustainability. Because it is irrespon-sible to use materials that are hazard-ous to manufacture, install, or discard,the building should be constructedfrom those that will one day be re-turned to manufacturers for recy-cling or will decompose to makegood soil. Because it is irresponsibleto destroy biological diversity, thesurrounding landscape should be de-signed to promote biological diver-sity. And because it is irresponsibleto foster hypocrisy, the buildingshould be designed to make the cur-riculum of the architecture and op-erations part of the formal curricu-lum. To that end, data on buildingenergy performance, energy produc-tion, water quality, indoor air qual-ity, and emissions should be moni-tored and publicly displayed.

Third, architects typically design abuilding, hire engineers to figure outhow to heat it and cool it, bring incontractors to build it, and finallycall in landscapers to make it lookpretty. Better design requires assem-bling a team from the outset that in-cludes faculty, students, members ofthe public, the architect, mechanicaland structural engineers, an ecologi-cal engineer, a landscape architect,and a contractor. The increased costsof “front-loading” the design processcan be more than offset by better in-tegration of technical systems and abetter fit between the building andthe landscape (Rocky Mountain In-stitute 1998). The result is greater ef-ficiency and lower energy costs overthe life of the structure. But it is notenough to change the process with-out changing the financial incentivesthat drive it. Fees for architects andengineers are typically calculated as apercentage of the total project costs

or capitol costs of equipment installedin the building. There is, accordingly,little incentive to minimize projectcosts or to maximize efficiency. Onthe other hand, fees can be calcu-lated on the actual building perfor-mance so that the savings fromhigher levels of efficiency are sharedbetween the institution and the de-signers (E Source 1992).

Fourth, science buildings are al-most always utilitarian, designed tobe, as Le Corbusier would have hadit, machines for thinking in. It is es-sential to add another dimension tothe architecture of science. How, forexample, might we warn the de-scendants of Thomas Midgeley Jr.about the fallibility of human intelli-gence? Can we design so well as toconvey the inescapable wholenessof things and the price to be paid forcarelessly taking things apart? Canwe avoid ecological and moral trag-edy before it occurs?

By means of art, sculpture, anddesign, science buildings—all aca-demic buildings in fact—ought to ac-knowledge that truth is always elu-sive, partial, complex, and ironic; theworld is not a machine and cannot betaken apart with impunity; and what-ever is disassembled for analyticalconvenience must be made whole. Inother words, the architecture of sci-ence ought to reflect a striving to-ward unity and to acknowledge thatthere is only one science, not many.

D. H. Lawrence once wrote, “Wa-

ter is H

2

O, hydrogen two parts, oxy-gen one. But there is also a thirdthing that makes it water and no-body knows what that is.” Nor willwe ever. Neither intellectual bril-liance nor technological clevernesscan solve the riddle of the thirdthing. Both science curriculum andthe design of science buildings mustcome to reflect awareness of the factthat we, scientists and nonscientistsalike, stand at the edge of a vast mys-tery that exceeds human intelligence.

Note

One model is a 240,000-square-footscience building being planned at

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Montana State University, designedby Kansas City architect Bob Berke-bile working in cooperation with fac-ulty and students (Betts 1998). TheMSU building will showcase envi-ronmentally advanced solar tech-nologies and a zero-discharge chem-istry lab. The building will beconstructed largely from local mate-rials coming from Montana’s wastestream. In addition to housing sci-ence facilities, the building will serveas a test facility for advanced build-ing materials. A second model is be-ing developed at the Land Institutein Salina, Kansas. For 20 years, Di-rector Wes Jackson has been con-ducting research on the possibility ofdeveloping agricultural systems pat-

terned on prairies. The goal is totransform agriculture to have theecological resilience, structure, andsustainability of natural systemscharacteristic of the high plains thatfeature perennial grasses and buf-falo. He is planning to build a newresearch facility set in the middle of200 acres of unplowed prairie thatwould be grazed by buffalo. Re-searchers working in the facilitycould literally look out their win-dows and see the model for theirwork.

David Orr

Environmental Studies, Oberlin College, Oberlin,OH 44074, U.S.A.

Literature Cited

Benyus, J. 1997. Biomimicry. William Mor-row, New York.

Betts, K. S. 1998. A new green building oncampus. Environmental Science and Tech-nology

September:

412–414.

E Source. 1992. Energy-efficient buildings:institutional barriers and opportunities.E Source, Boulder, Colorado.

Levins, R. 1998. Looking at the whole: towarda social ecology of health. Lecture. KansasHealth Foundation, Wichita, Kansas.

McDonough, W., and M. Braungart. 1998. Thenext industrial revolution. The AtlanticMonthly

282(4):

82–92.

Rocky Mountain Institute. 1998. Green devel-opment. Wiley, New York.

Union of Concerned Scientists. 1992. Worldscientists warning to humanity. Union ofConcerned Scientists, Boston.