Misery in hypermodern Feringa
Anger, despair, and frustration
Door Christien Boomsma
By Christien Boomsma
Christien Boomsma
Christien is sinds 2016 achtergrondcoördinator bij UKrant. Ze plant de achtergrondverhalen en begeleidt de auteurs. Bij haar eigen verhalen ligt de focus op wetenschap en academisch leven. Daarnaast schrijft ze veel over onderwerpen als sociale veiligheid en maakt ze graag persoonlijke interviews. In haar vrije tijd schrijft ze jeugdboeken en geeft schrijftrainingen.When PhD candidates Carlijn van Beek and Hannes Hovorka with the Stratingh Institute arrive at work in the morning, they start out at the Feringa Building, collecting the chemicals they need for their experiments. They put them in a little bucket, which they then walk over to the Linnaeusborg. There, they are able to perform various simple experiments in a fume hood.
It’s far from ideal. ‘But we were fortunate enough to be able to use our own research group’s labs’, says Van Beek. ‘Everything’s more familiar, and they have the materials they need in their lab.’
Unfortunately, their colleagues will be returning from their holidays this week, and they’ll be needing their own fume hoods back. ‘We don’t know what we’ll do then.’
Chemist Katja Loos can’t use her brand-new lab, either. Every morning, the people in her research group leave for the teaching labs at Nijenborgh to use the fume hoods there. Moving the heavy centrifuge over to the older building was a lot of work and she’s only able to perform simple experiments, but it’s better than nothing. But the students will be needing the teaching labs when they return next week. ‘Where are we supposed to put our heavy equipment then?’
No one know what we’ll do when the holidays are over
Professor of photophysics and optoelectronics Marie Antonietta Loi has nothing else to do than sit behind her computer. She can’t use her clean room: it is much too humid and the temperature, which should be stable, is all over the place. ‘I asked for a certain type of ceiling in my laser lab, but it was never made, because someone decided we don’t need it. They are treating the scientists like they know better than us how to run the show!’
What happened to all the demands she and the other researchers submitted? All the forms they signed, all the times they were told that nothing could be changed anymore? Because many changes have in fact been made, without the researchers’ knowledge.
Why weren’t they informed about any of them? ‘They’re treating us like idiots. Like we don’t know what we need! All those emergency solutions have ended up costing more money than if they’d done it right in the first place’, says Loi. ‘In the meantime, all these extremely well-paid people are just sitting around twiddling their thumbs.’
Ventilation
It all seemed so great in the beginning. After years of hold-ups, the Feringa Building, the ‘home to Nobel Prize winners’, was finally completed. The most expensive and modern laboratory building ever, it has a surface area of 64,000 square metres, three kilometres of lab tables, thirty-five laser labs, and 450 fume hoods.
When the first groups started moving in in March, there were some issues. Many of the rooms didn’t have sufficient ventilation capacity, which meant researchers couldn’t move their chemicals. ‘We went back to Nijenborgh 4 for three weeks’, says Loos. ‘We had to move our heavy centrifuge and breakable glassware all the way back.’
Climate control was an issue as well: researchers complained that their offices were much too hot. The safety controls were constantly and inexplicably throwing up red lights, which meant there was some kind of problem and people had to stop work. ‘We were required to report it to reception, but no one ever got back to us about whether the problem was solved or not’, says Hovorka. Occasionally, the entire ventilation system would shut down, only to start back up again after a little while.
Loi’s people had to keep cleaning the lab because electricians kept walking in with dirt on their shoes. It also became clear early on that the nitrogen tubes were too thin, which prevented her from doing her experiments. The door to her laser lab didn’t even have a card reader, which meant anyone could just walk in. ‘So the safety officer told us: the labs are not safe. Just fantastic!’
Delays
Everyone hoped these were just teething problems. After all, some issues are to be expected from a new building, especially one as complex as the Feringa Building. Besides, it’s not like Nijenborgh 4 was all that fantastic to work in. ‘I called my lab the four-season lab’, says Van Beek. ‘If it was hot outside, it was hot inside. If it rained outside, the rain would get blown into the room.’
‘At Nijenborgh, I could smell the lab chemicals in my office’, says Loos. ‘That’s never happened in the new building.’
Nevertheless, Loos ended up writing a letter to the faculty board urging them to postpone the move for other groups. ‘It was too late for us, but they could have saved the others a lot of trouble’, she says. ‘But they straight up said they couldn’t do it.’
It was too late for us, but they could have saved the others a lot of trouble
But Faculty of Science and Engineering portfolio manager Esther Marije Klop says the decision wasn’t made lightly. The move and subsequent demolition of part of Nijenborgh, as well as the construction of a second section of the Feringa Building were on a tight schedule. Any delays would cost money. A lot of money. The project supervisors also said that the sections scheduled for demolition still had to have their utilities disconnected.
However, there was a lot more going on. ‘We’d scheduled specialist movers to come from all over the world. They would disassemble the complicated machinery and rebuild it in the new building. Those people were practically already on the plane on their way to us. Sure, we could have cancelled on them. But not only would that have been expensive, we also couldn’t know when they’d be available again.’
Besides, most importantly, the Property department told the board that while the ventilation issues were bothersome, they were manageable and would be fixed in a matter of weeks. No one, says Klop, was ever worried that the building was unsafe. ‘But if I’d known all of this from the outset, I can’t guarantee we wouldn’t have made different decisions.’
Optimistic
The ventilation improved once the system slowly regulated. Only then could the chemicals finally be moved over to the Feringa Building. Fume hoods were checked, and some of them were decommissioned. ‘They put a red sticker on them and absolutely no one was allowed to use them’, says Loos.
And in spite of everything, the researchers were optimistic. ‘I genuinely thought everything would work out by September’, says Loi. ‘I thought everything was going to be fine.’
But then July 9, 2024 rolled around, and it became glaringly obvious that the issues weren’t mere teething problems. The faculty board sent an email to everyone in the Feringa Building: ‘Taking effect immediately, working with hazardous chemicals in the fume hoods of the Feringa Building will be prohibited until further notice. […] We cannot and will not jeopardize your safety.’
The decision, Klop says, made her ‘feel physically sick’. It also made clear that the complex air treatment system in the building wasn’t functioning properly. And while she didn’t know whether it was actually unsafe, she couldn’t guarantee the safety of the building either. So after conferring with the board of directors, she didn’t have a choice. ‘But I understand how difficult it was for everyone.’
Lack of concern
It was a giant blow for the researchers who’d been confronted with the issues for months. ‘People read it and were like, fuck you’, says Loos.
‘The hits just keep on coming’, says Gerard Roelfes, director of the Stratingh Institute. ‘We never know when the next problem is going to rear its ugly head.’ What annoys him the most is the lack of concern from the higher-ups: the board and the Property department. ‘They always seem so distant, like they’re not really aware of the urgency of the situation.’
The higher-ups don’t seem to be aware of the urgency
External companies were hired to investigate the situation and take measurements. The results were announced a week and a half ago. The ventilation is in order, but air extraction in the fume hoods isn’t always guaranteed to work properly. This is supposedly due to possible air currents right in front of the fume hoods, which can lead to faulty turbulence inside the hood.
The extraction tube diametre is also too small – 50 millimetres instead of the necessary 90 – and many of the labs are lacking ‘negative pressure’ in relation to the hallways. This negative pressure is essential in case of a chemical spill.
Uncertainty
In the meantime, the board of directors, the UG’s Property department, the Health and Safety Department, and the FSE board have formed a crisis team. The installation companies are working hard to solve the issues as quickly and pragmatically as possible. But the uncertainty is just too much.
‘I’ve been very worried about my health’, says Gianni Pacella, who hasn’t been able to do any proper work for months. ‘I work with toxic chemicals, so I do ask myself: what have I been breathing in all that time?’
And that’s on top of all the issues from the past few months: not being able to work because the lab had to be packed up, moved, and unpacked again; going back and forth between Nijenborgh and the Feringa Building. ‘There are quite a few experiments I still need to run, which will probably never happen, because September will be my last month’, he says, resigned. ‘So I hope what I have will be enough.’
What have I been breathing in all that time?
All this time, the supervisors and directors at the Feringa Building have been in crisis mode. How can they keep up morale? What can they do for their people? PhD candidates are especially in trouble. ‘The ones who just started have room to shift things around, or adjust their research. But the ones at the end of their track may still need to do some final experiments’, says Roelfes.
Roelfes managed to square most of his PhDs away at the Linnaeusborg while his colleagues were on holiday. ‘It’s nice to see that kind of solidarity’, he says. Pacella was also able to find a temporary space there, after his supervisor approached some colleagues at the Stratingh.
Loos and her people were able to use the empty teaching labs. She also sent a few people to Emmen, where her group is participating in the Greenwise Campus. Others have sent their PhDs to other universities across the country.
But these are all stopgap measures, ‘temporary solutions’, Roelfes emphasises. The teaching labs don’t have facilities needed in a high-end laboratory. Some researchers are entirely unable to do their work.
Zombies
While the faculty did provide an emergency fund to extend tracks for final-year PhDs in distress by a potential three months, it also asked the directors to be careful with that money. After all, the faculty is suffering from money problems due to the energy crisis, salary increases as agreed upon in the collective agreement, inflation, and politics.
Besides, other researchers are suffering from delays as well. And they want to know who will be solving the situation. Who’s responsible? ‘I have a meeting of my European project this week’, says Loi. ‘What do I tell them? Sorry, I haven’t done anything? My clean room is not working?’
If I’d known this was going to happen, I would’ve sent my boxes elsewhere
Her PhDs are walking around like ‘zombies’, says Loos. But post-doctoral candidates and people on tenure tracks are also worried about the consequences of not meeting demands. ‘These are real people!’ says Loos. ‘I cancelled my vacation to support them.’
She’s considering moving her entire group to a different university. They would welcome her with open arms. ‘If I’d known this was going to happen, I would’ve sent my boxes elsewhere’, she says, bitterly. ‘But now? What am I supposed to do now?’
Here’s the thing that everyone involved is wondering: how could this even happen? Didn’t anyone test the extraction or ventilation when the building was completed? ‘My technicians kept telling them’, says Loi. ‘We have to test everything! But they didn’t.’
Roelfes: ‘In spite of all the promises, they moved us into a building that wasn’t finished yet.’
Loos: ‘It’s like accepting the keys to a new house that doesn’t even have a roof.’
Weekly updates
The worst thing though, most agree, is the terrible uncertainty. The faculty board does send a weekly email with updates, but: ‘It’s pretty useless’, says Van Beek. ‘One week, it’ll say they’re putting together a team. The next week, they’ll say they’ve put together a team. Or even that there’s no update at all.’
Klop understands people’s frustrations. In the past, researchers would complain that they wouldn’t hear from the board for weeks. The board had hoped to fix that with a weekly email update. ‘But I simply don’t have something new to tell them every week’, she says. ‘In the end, there’s only one thing the researchers are interested in, and that’s when everything will be solved.’
She’d hoped to give them some sort of timetable last Wednesday, but the crisis team deemed the plan that the Property department, installers, and advisers came up with ‘unacceptable’. Now, the work group has to come up with a better, and most importantly, faster plan. The board is calling the situation ‘disappointing’ and ‘frustrating’.
Fourteen days
But this week, something finally seems to be happening. Director Eise Ebbelink, with the department of Property and Investment Projects, says it will take at least fourteen days to ensure the building control systems correctly indicate the problem in case of irregularities, so they’ll be able to intervene. The fume hoods will then have to be validated one by one. ‘We’re currently working on that. We hope to have the first few fume hoods available again in those fourteen days.
But, he says cautiously, he can’t give any guarantees. The definitive decision about that particular timetable still needs to be made.
Only then can Klop start to focus on the best solution for the situation that will arise this week, when the Linnaeusborg and the teaching labs will no longer be available. ‘It’ll be a tight fit’, she says. ‘We’ll have to figure it out and make adjustments.’
After that, all the parties involved will have to look into what all this has cost and who will be footing the bill. The higher-ups are responsible for the cost of the changes to the building, as FSE is merely the end user and the Property department is responsible for its correct completion.
But the faculty is suffering from the delays as well, and it’s not their fault. The financial problems are so immense that the extra cost will be hard to deal with. Klop: ‘We asked the board for financial help, but so far, we haven’t received a positive answer.’
Director of Property and Investment Projects: ‘The most important thing is, how do we get out of this?’
‘The situation we’re facing with the Feringa Building is really very unfortunate’, acknowledges Eise Ebbelink, director of the Property and Investment Projects department at the UG. However, he doesn’t believe any mistakes were made given the knowledge available at the time.
After all, a strict schedule was set following all the delays, allowing researchers to begin moving in from March. However, it was clear from the outset that much would still need to be set up. ‘With such a large building, that’s an enormous task, and that’s where we’re currently at.’
Unused building
The building and its installations were indeed tested, Ebbelink says, but these tests were conducted in an unused building. ‘You can never fully predict how a building will perform when it’s fully in use.’
He regrets that ‘the system’s imbalance doesn’t guarantee safety’, leading to the ban on using the fume hoods. ‘But more importantly, how do we resolve this?’ he asks.
The top priority is ensuring the correct functioning of the building management system, which needs to accurately reflect what the installations are doing to allow for proper intervention. ‘We’re working on that now.’
Once that’s in order, the fume hoods need to be revalidated, and once completed, they can be used again. The pipes of the fume hoods, which are too narrow, will also need to be replaced. This will take ‘a long time’, Ebbelink admits, ‘but it’s not an obstacle to the building’s use.’
Responsibility
He doesn’t want to speculate about who’s to blame for this situation – and thus responsible for the costs – just yet. ‘We have one focus right now: ensuring that researchers can use the laboratories.’
‘At the moment,’ he says, ‘we can’t prove that anything went wrong due to negligence. Moreover, we want everyone to stay in “move forward” mode so we can achieve our main goal: getting the first labs up and running in fourteen days.’Director of Property and Investment Projects: ‘The most important thing is, how do we get out of this?’
‘The situation we’re facing with the Feringa Building is really very unfortunate’, acknowledges Eise Ebbelink, director of the Property and Investment Projects department at the UG. However, he doesn’t believe any mistakes were made given the knowledge available at the time.
After all, a strict schedule was set following all the delays, allowing researchers to begin moving in from March. However, it was clear from the outset that much would still need to be set up. ‘With such a large building, that’s an enormous task, and that’s where we’re currently at.’