By Celeste Langan
On Sunday, April 7, 2013, the Daily Californian ran a story
with the headline, “Campus announces plans to construct new aquatics
center.” It’s unclear from the story
just when this announcement might be
said to have taken place, since a public hearing on the proposal was held in Berkeley on April 3. Presumably at least those who organized the
meeting knew of the proposal in advance.
Still, it’s fair to say that the proposal came as a complete surprise to
most of the Daily Cal’s readership—that is to say,
faculty, staff, and students. An
announcement has yet to appear in the Berkeleyan
or on the UC Berkeley website.
We’re told by Intercollegiate Athletics that the proposed
Aquatics Center, to be built on what’s currently a parking lot adjacent to the
Tang Student Health Center, is an “extremely generous” proposal on the part of
private donors (referred to as “Cal Aquatic Legends”), who have engaged to
raise all necessary money. We’re told that
Berkeley’s pool
facilities pale in comparison with Stanford’s, and that the pool facilities we
have are too crowded. Forced to share
Spieker Pool with other students, faculty, and community members, the swimmers
and divers who compete for Berkeley
on an intercollegiate level can only practice at certain times, which limits
their opportunity to elect certain major fields of study.
Why should we look this gift horse in the mouth?
With the new Aquatics
Center, intercollegiate
athletes would no longer have to share.
We’re told that the proposed new facility would be for the exclusive use
of intercollegiate athletes and certain illustrious alumni. Thus the proposal is parallel in concept to
the recently completed High
Performance Athletic
Center near Memorial
Stadium and Memorial Grove. When that
project was first proposed, the Cal
community was also promised that it would be funded entirely through private
donations; in 2006, we
were told that $90 million was “in the bank.” We know now that
only $29 million was raised through private donations. Instead, the University is in debt for that
facility alone (not counting Memorial Stadium) to the tune of $124 million.
It’s probably true that better facilities and resources aid
performance. But shouldn’t we be
applying that principle first to the 99% of Berkeley students who are not intercollegiate
athletes, and to the object of academic performance? Instead, a valuable public resource (the land
granted to the university to educate California’s
citizens) would be diverted to serve the interests of only a few. Even if the construction costs of the
proposed Aquatics Center are entirely covered by private donations, the
plans for the building effectively monopolize that space, excluding 99% of the Berkeley community from
its usufruct.
Wherever we turn today, we read that the “bricks and mortar”
university is no longer viable; that it’s too costly and denies access to
high-quality education. At Berkeley we’re all too
familiar with the crumbling of bricks and mortar; after nearly every winter
rainstorm one can find pieces of mortar or peeling paint, along with puddles,
in some of the campus’ most historic buildings, including the hallways and
locker rooms of Hearst Gymnasium, the poor but beautiful elder sister of the
Spieker complex. Faculty try to teach
and conduct research in deteriorating classrooms and laboratories. Donors, we
are told, have no interest in funding the repair of existing facilities, in
upgrading and greening the heating and plumbing systems. And the state’s declining support for the UC
system makes even everyday maintenance a financial challenge. To respond to these challenges, the
administration tries to find ways to cut costs—diminished library hours, fewer
books bought, class enrollments capped to accommodate available classroom space
and diminished numbers of ladder-rank faculty.
In this context, it’s not just the prospect of turning a
parking lot into an athletic facility that galls. It’s the fact that the new facility will be
for the exclusive use of a small number of intercollegiate athletes, some of
whom already receive support in the form of athletic scholarships. The rest of the student body, as well as the
faculty and the community, will still have access to existing facilities. But what’s to guarantee that “access” will
actually be any more extensive? Where is
the plan to provide more hours for recreational swimming, to pay for the
requisite lifeguards and staff? Will the “Aquatic Legends” continue to foot the
bill for the new Center’s operating costs, or will the University now have to
divert some of the funds dedicated to Spieker and Hearst (to say nothing of
classroom maintenance) to pay for heat, light, and staff at the Aquatics
Center?
It’s true that the Aquatics Center is planned for a space
that’s currently a parking lot—hardly an inspired use of precious space (unless
one considers the disinvestment in public transportation, which makes it
difficult for many students, faculty, and staff who live far from BART to get
to campus except by car). But it’s not
as if the University has worked with Alameda
County to improve bus
service, or on its own to develop a shuttle service, despite the fact that
available parking for faculty, staff, and students has been seriously
diminished by recent UCB building projects.
Moreover, the Environmental Impact Report filed for the Aquatics Center acknowledges that the project
“conflicts with the existing applicable land use plan” as laid out in both the
2020 Long Range Development Plan and the South Side Plan.
Consider what’s happening here. It’s a perfect case of what’s called “the
privatization of public resources.”
Often “privatization” is represented as a benefit, the assumption being
that “private enterprise” operates more efficiently than public entities, which
serve a larger constituency, and often conform to a greater number of
regulations. (Kind of like the
difference between a car and a bus.) But we need to remember to ask who
benefits from these supposed efficiencies.
In the case of the Aquatics
Center, UC Berkeley would
be ceding land use—granted by the state for the benefit of all Californians—to
a tiny fraction of athletes. Given past
history, it is likely that students and taxpayers would end up financing a good
portion of the costs.
And what of the net psychic
costs? Although universities are
imperfect institutions, traversed by all the economic, social, and cultural
inequalities of their historical moment, they also have their utopian
aspect: the “oneness” implicit in the
name; the sense that the accumulated resources of a university, intellectual
and physical, are shared my all members of its community. That’s why a university’s libraries, grounds,
and buildings—its “bricks and mortar”—are still important, because they provide
a space for the exchange of knowledge as a common
good, and remind us that education is, at its best, a res publica, a public
thing.
We should therefore ask the Administration to halt
planning/construction on the Aquatics Center until they demonstrate to the
public and formally to the Senate that it is a) actually, truly fully paid for
by donors, and b) that it is a good use of collective public University
resources at the present time, given that it will be used by a small fraction
of the UCB community for a nonacademic mission.