Don’t Renovate Away Harvard’s House Community

Two Housing Days ago, when I had the privilege of being told I would be an Eliotite, I envisioned myself living in the Domus — as we affectionately refer to Eliot House — happily ever after. Unfortunately, this will not be the case.

Next year, my fellow Eliotites and I will be evicted from our beloved home at 101 Dunster Street, dispersed across Harvard Square while Eliot undergoes long-overdue renovations. While necessary, this disruption marks the temporary loss of more than just a building — it’s the loss of a shared physical space that has powerfully sustained our community.

And we aren’t going to be alone. Harvard is in the midst of an ongoing House renewal effort that, depending on how it’s carried out, has the potential to deepen campus community — or threaten it.

Thankfully, I am confident that Eliot’s community will endure even outside our traditional walls. Already, Eliotites are planning ways to preserve our traditions and stay connected during the time apart.

Yet, when future generations of Eliotites return to our iconic perch at the corner of John F. Kennedy Street and Memorial Drive, I hope that they return to a building that still feels like Eliot. While the renovation may modernize our facilities, it shouldn't erase the quirks that have been integral to building the House spirit we all cherish. I may even miss the chronically high temperature of the dining hall.

To be clear, Eliot is definitely due for an update. The absence of elevators throughout the building, render Eliot completely inaccessible for those with mobility challenges. Heavy rains have led to leaky roofs in the past. And water leaks and outages — which make it difficult to shower, do laundry, or even stay in our suites — are more common than they should be. However, these drawbacks do not necessitate wholesale changes to the House’s core structure.

Coming to college, my only perception of dorm life was the stereotypical faceless building consisting of long hallways filled to the brim with tiny rooms for two people, all of whom must share a communal bathroom. Thankfully, Harvard’s housing system generally avoids this model — and Eliot exemplifies that difference.

Instead of isolated rooms — which are more conducive to siloing students off and limiting social interactions — Eliot is generally structured around suites with bedrooms, bathrooms, and common rooms that allow groups as small as two to as large as ten to live together. This structure fosters spontaneous conversation, late-night study sessions, and the informal bonding that a traditional dorm hallway simply can’t replicate.

Personally, I’ve benefited immensely from this setup. Living in a suite, I’ve found myself constantly surrounded by friends: Our room allows us to watch movies together, host large game nights, have spirited impromptu debates, and so much more. It’s due to these shared spaces that our community thrives.

Yes, hallway singles might be necessary in the new Eliot, but they should be the exception, not the rule. A living arrangement that allows students to go days without interacting with other students isn’t just isolating — it’s likely deleterious to both mental health and the greater House culture.

Beyond the suites, Eliot’s vertical entryways add another layer of community building, promoting connection in ways that many modern dorms do not. Unlike dorms where residents can slip in the front door and ride an elevator before disappearing into their dorm, many Eliotites must pass through central hubs like the dining hall or courtyard to reach their room.

In these spaces, there is a near constant presence of Eliotites doing work, relaxing, eating, or just hanging out in these spaces. I can’t remember the last time I walked through the dining hall without running into a friend and catching up over conversation.

Just the other day, I sat down in the dining hall intending to do work. Within minutes of sitting down, I was engrossed in conversation with three fellow Eliotites across three different years. The Eliot layout allows for these types of connections to arise naturally — irrespective of class year.

In Eliot, community isn’t just encouraged — it’s inevitable.

If the renovations eliminate this layout in favor of sterile, hospital-like hallways, we risk losing the very soul of Eliot. Students should still have to walk through these central spaces in order to get to their room. Convenience should not come at the expense of community.

When I walk through the halls of Lowell House or Winthrop House, for example, I admire the clean design, but I don’t feel the spirit of Harvard’s House system. I feel that I’ve wandered into the halls of a nondescript dormitory shipped directly from Dorms-R-Us.

I’m not against change. But I urge the architects, planners, and decision-makers responsible for Eliot’s renovations and the ones that come after: Please preserve the features that make our houses what they are. At Eliot, keep the decorative wood and iron railings, the wood-paneled library annex with a spiral staircase, the old stone steps, and the weirdly-curved hallways.

Don’t erase the small, unique features that have long distinguished our houses from the rest — and remind me that I am home.

Henry P. Moss IV ’26, an Associate Editorial Editor, is a History concentrator in Eliot House.