Simon Nicholson is professor who teaches in the School of International Service and specializes in global environmental politics. Before his academic home was in the Global Scholars office, he worked in the Galapagos with cross-curricular graduate programs, on a cruise ship headed around the world, and at a law school in New Zealand. Professor Nicholson recently took time to talk about his Semester at Sea, Fossil Free AU’s divestment campaign, and why everyone needs to do more than just ride their bike to stop climate change.

 What’s your favorite class to teach now?

I always have this little spiel at the start of [International Environmental Politics]: ‘I teach this course because I think its really intellectually interesting, there are lots of big and interesting issues to grapple with, but the main reason I teach it is because environmental concerns are about the most critical set of concerns that we face now, and we need to wrap our brains around them and we need to work out why we’re facing them and what can be done, and so that’s what we’re really trying to get through.’ It’s a course really focused on action.

Which of your areas of expertise is the most important to students and to the world?

I think there’s little question for those of us who look at environmental concerns, the big issue that we all need to come to terms with now is climate change. And what I want everybody to know about climate change is that the emerging science on climate change, the mainstream emerging science that’s coming out right now tells us that the situation is far, far more desperate than most of us thought it would be just a handful of years ago. The climate system is changing more rapidly, and its proving to be less robust in the face of even small temperature changes than we’d anticipated and very quickly, it looks like our ability to restrain the global economy from putting more and more carbon into the atmosphere is slipping away from us.

And that sounds just so doom and gloom, and I don’t consider myself kind of a gloomy person, but my read of the science as it stands at the moment is that we’re almost at the point of desperation with these issues.

That was just such a bummer. Can I delete that?

You’ve taught at the Semester at Sea program and with traveling programs at AU. What was is it like to work so closely with other faculty on a small staff? With all your academic work, that’s a lot of collaborating.

In the Semester at Sea program, I’d have class with students, we’d then go to lunch together, we’d get off the ship in India together, and then go back and process that experience in the classroom, and so it really just started to merge together. We’re trying to recreate some of that through the global scholars program, that’s what it means to have a really vibrant living learning community. So the conversations that get started in the classroom don’t finish as people walk out the door. … To just be on that ship, with really smart people: students and faculty, [including Archbishop] Desmond Tutu who you could just kind of sit down with and say, “Oh, so what’s going on? What do you think of the world?”

You’re interested in human rights and climate change. How are they connected?

The thing about what climate change is going to mean for people in the United States, we’ll face more storms, we’ll have more droughts… But because of our wealth as a country, we are unequally able to adapt to many of the changes that are on the horizon. But if you live in Bangladesh and your land’s being swallowed up by rising seawater, you’re being forced to migrate across borders into India, and so forth. The people who are already living the most desperate and fragile lives are affected worst by climatic change. … But they’re not getting any of the benefits of burning carbon-based fuels. That’s fundamentally a justice question.

Instead of thinking about climate change in abstract terms, we’re putting this invisible gas out into the invisible atmosphere and it might have effects down the road, now we’re talking about it in very human terms, we’re talking about it in terms that I just mentioned. There are people suffering right now because of the effects of climate change. A climate change movement premised on human rights and justice gives us more impetus for action.

So if someone’s not going into policy, what can they do to help?

Here’s one important thing, a caveat. The mainstream environmental movement for a long time and our environmental leaders have been telling us that just by taking some very basic, some very simple steps, you’ve been hearing this your whole life. If you just recycle, ride a bike or take a bus rather than driving a car, if you just change out your light bulbs for compact fluorescent light bulbs, then you’re doing your part.

But if the situation is really as desperate as the science tells us, those sorts of small steps, even taken by a large number of individuals, they don’t add up to very much. They’re not commensurate with the challenge that we face. Individuals, as well as doing all of those sorts of things that we typically think of as living good, green lives, really have to start getting more politically active.

One of Kiho Kim’s classes a couple of years ago, they went into TDR,… and they found out that a huge percentage of food that was going onto people’s trays and plates was being tossed away. And so they recommended that the trays be taken out… There wasn’t an individual level change, we didn’t ask lots of people to work out ways to waste less food. We got rid of the trays, and now people put less food on their plates, and so less food is thrown away. It was a dramatic change, …driven by a handful of students getting together in Professor Kim’s class, and identifying a structural point of intervention. … As long as we think we can tackle the environmental challenge just by individual consumer-type actions… nothing is ever really fundamentally going to happen.

Political action doesn’t just mean writing to one’s congressman or voting in elections, although those things are important too, it means getting together in groups and changing the way that we, collectively, live together.

Students in [International Environmental Politics] set up local community gardens, the community garden we have on campus came in part from students out of that course. Composting in the Davenport Lounge, the initial push for double-sided printing in the library, all of these things are really basic. But if you change the settings on the computers in the library so that it defaults to double-sided printing, people don’t have to make the right choice to print single-sided or double-sided, the choice is made for them, and nobody really complains.

And so what can everybody do, it’s a really long answer to a very simple question, what can folks do? Get serious. That’s what we need to do.

One other thing I want to call attention to is the work that Eco-Sense, the environmental club on campus is doing this semester, they’re pushing for what’s called divestment. That’s a new campaign. It’s a nationwide campaign started by 350.org which is a well-known environmental organization, and they’ve picked it up. And so they’ve started a group called Fossil Free AU

[Those students] want a freeze on new investments in fossil fuels, and in fossil-fuel companies. And then they want a real conversation to begin about how to pull all of our current endowment investments out of fossil fuel companies.

And if the University does take that step because of student pressure… and other campuses and municipalities and investment firms start to do the same sort of thing, that sends a powerful message to all companies. It won’t hurt their bottom line a lot, but it changes their moral equation. It starts to send a signal to oil companies that their business model has to change.

Photo by Rebecca Bartola

Quick: name five schools in the District. Could you do it? There are some schools we naturally think of when we think about our fellow collegians in DC: our neighbors at UDC and Georgetown, our competitors at GW. Add to that those schools that are on the Metro lines: Catholic, Howard, Gallaudet, GMU, UMD. There is one school you surely don’t remember. Southeastern University, which was located at the Waterfront-SEU Metro stop. But looking at a Metro map, you’d never know it. Southeastern has nearly fallen off the map.

In the spring, Waterfront-SEU was the name of the stop on the green line before Navy Yard. The new Metro map, phased in during May and June 2012, dropped the “SEU” at Waterfront. In its article about Metro’s changes, the Washington Post neglected Southeastern DC once again, not mentioning the switch. Of course, by then it was old news. After all, Southeastern closed in 2009.

Founded in 1879 as YMCA College, the school was renamed “Southeastern University” in 1930. It completed a quadrangle of geographically named colleges, joining fellow YMCA school Northeastern in Boston; Northwestern in Evanston, Illinois; and Southwestern in Georgetown, Texas. These three schools collectively now have an enrollment of over 25,000 students.

The enrollment at Southeastern had hovered between one and two thousand students for years, but it was the September 11th attacks of 2001 that are credited with slashing enrollment to the point of no return. Southeastern had depended on international students who were no longer flocking to the states, and some were facing stricter immigration laws. In the mid-eighties, a third of the student body was Nigerian, and another third were international students from Iran, Taiwan and some African and Caribbean countries.

Southeastern attracted such a large foreign student body by being relatively cheap and having relaxed policies that allowed ample time for foreigners’ families to send them money, sometimes up to 10 months. In an article published in the Post in May 1983, Southeastern’s Dean of Students, Vijay Chauhan, said the university was used to the financial uncertainty that came with having many foreign students. But in post-9/11 America, the future of the school remained unclear. The tuition dollars needed to run the university were dwindling as international enrollment decreased. The school, which had before been funded largely by students from countries made rich by the oil industry, now saw a shift in demographic to local, low-income students.

Kathryn Ray is a librarian at Bender Library. She’s lived in the District her whole life and studied the city while going to college at George Washington University.

She says though the security fears and legislation that came after 9/11 led to a decrease in foreign students in general, she can’t imagine it had as big of an impact at American as it did at Southeastern. She explained that the difference is that AU has established connections with other colleges and universities globally, while Southeastern was “randomly waiting for international students.” This would explain the financial uncertainty Chauhan described even in the 1980s.

In spring 2009, it was announced that Southeastern, which had been floundering in the eight years since the attacks, would not be offering fall classes. At this point, they had only 30 full-time professors, and hired roughly 150 adjuncts each semester. In late June, 300 of the 645 students graduated. At least 200 had applied for transfer, mostly to other colleges in the area, including UDC and Trinity, according to the Post.  An accreditation report said that only 14 percent of Southeastern’s first-time degree seeking students graduated in six years. For perspective, 74 percent of first-time degree seeking students at American graduate in four years.

***

Between 1900 and 2000, 20 institutions of higher education closed in the District.  It seems like the institutions we attend are and should be strong and ever-present, but the concept of “too big to fail” is simply not the case. Southeastern is the first of what could be many schools to close here in the twenty-first century. Across the country, at least 58 colleges and universities have closed since the year 2000.  It turns out closing schools isn’t so uncommon, especially in economic downturn.

Three years after its close, there isn’t a trace of Southeastern left in DC. But it’s not just the Metro stop that’s changed. Its former website, www.SEU.edu, is now the homepage to another Southeastern University, located in Lakeland, Fla. Its transcript records and some professors have been adopted by The Graduate School,  which trains federal employees. Southeastern’s main building remains empty, with entrances fenced off, and windows dark on a suburban street between the National Air and Space Museum and the Arena Stage.

It’s hard to imagine a place where people learned and made friends, where others earned their livings teaching and where foreigners felt at home in the United States, could disappear so suddenly, losing both hope and accreditation in less than a decade. The moral of Southeastern’s story is that nothing, anywhere, is sacred. Nothing is too big or too small to fail. And schools, like the lives of the students who attend them, are transient.

Photo by Eleanor Greene.

Stepping back into the roaring 20s isn’t just for Woody Allen movies anymore. After a short bus ride from campus and a shorter trek along the Maryland border, any AU student can easily reach the Avalon Theatre. Nestled among the store fronts, the the theater’s name glows bright red on the vertical sign hanging from its prominent façade. The gold awning, framed with classic incandescent light bulbs, leads to the glass-encased ticket booth, which offers tickets to students at the price of nine dollars.

The ticket prices were probably lower when the charming theater first opened its doors, under the name Chevy Chase Theater, in 1923, but the increase is a small price to pay to feel like a part of history. The Avalon originally opened with a single screen and pipe organ for silent films, but was updated for sound capabilities in 1929. On a wall upstairs, the Avalon pays homage to the community of theaters it used to be a part of, displaying pictures of each single screen movie house with summaries of their lifespan. Most of these theaters that opened as early as 1907, amid the heyday of silent films, are now closed—all except the Avalon, which narrowly escaped use as a retail space after its commercial closing in 2001. Due to an enthusiastic campaign by local moviegoers, the Avalon was revived as a non-profit movie theater, kept alive today by contributions from the community and an annual fundraiser. The Avalon, which opened its doors in a time when neighborhood theaters were the norm, is now a relic among the theaters in Washington, the rest of which are all part of national or regional chains: AMC Loews, Regal and Landmark.

Chevy Chase was not the only nearby suburban neighborhood to have its own movie theater. In fact, the Apex used to stand on Massachusetts Avenue in the Spring Valley neighborhood. It stood from 1940 to 1976 when it was closed and torn down to make an office building. Now, American University’s Washington College of Law stands in the location where the Apex Theatre once stood.

It is an unfortunate fact of modern life—independent movie theaters are a dying breed. According to the National Association of Theatre Owners, the past ten years have seen an increase from 27,000 to 38,000 screens in the country, along with a drop from 7,000 to 5,500 movie theaters to house those screens. In short, multiplexes are getting bigger, and tiny establishments that can’t compete are falling by the wayside.

Bill Oberdorfer is the Executive Director of the Avalon Theatre Project, and is not embarrassed that the theater’s greatest accomplishment is “keeping our head afloat.” In face of the theater’s biggest challenge, movie acquisition, even this minor accomplishment is a feat. The struggle against “clearing” of movie theaters is one that Oberdorfer is all too familiar with.

When national independent theater chains, such as the Landmark group, specialize in independent films, they promise to show certain films at all of their locations. But if the company that owns the film rights offers the rights to a nearby independent location (like the Avalon), the chain may threaten to pull it from all of its screens. The film companies, of course, would like to show their film in more locations, so their loyalty to the chain effectively clears the surrounding geographic zones of that film. The Avalon couldn’t acquire the rights to Academy Award Winning film The Artist, a silent picture that would have surely filled the 428 seats in the Avalon for weeks. Oberdorfer says this clearing process often leaves the Avalon out in the cold. Either small-project indie movies or well-known popular films dominate the selection, and the venue loses its personal touch.

The Avalon isn’t so interested in the male 20-35 demographic that wide release films often cater to; their audience tends to have an older skew—from the art house audience, to local families who bring along children. If the Avalon is not on many students’ radar, it might be because the theater doesn’t have the funds for advertising—it depends on the continued business of patrons more than it does on new or one-time customers. The Avalon doesn’t devote much attention to the AU student demographic, a community that is only a half hour away by bus and foot. If students do watch a movie “they may be watching it on Netflix for all I know,” says Oberdorfer.

And of course, most students are watching movies on Netflix, pirated, from the library, or at the multiplexes downtown. But there’s something to be said for going to the Avalon to see a movie. Fairly low ticket prices, homemade ice cream in the concessions café (Appley Ever After is a current flavor), and embassy-funded foreign films offer community members and students what other movie-going experiences cannot. The Avalon’s authentic 1920s sophistication makes the theater well worth a trip.

Illustration by Hannah Karl

If you haven’t  seen pictures of a beagle plastered on yellow fliers all over the city, you should probably open your eyes. Sassafras is a beagle with a “distinctive flag-like tail” and a couple of dedicated owners. Jeff Abramson and Beth Edinger have been searching for their beloved pet since April, hanging and distributing over 6,000 fliers. However, they’re not alone—many members of the community have joined the search.
After about a month of looking, owner Abramson started a campaign aimed at local media outlets, which snowballed into a national story. “Sassy” has been featured on the Anderson Cooper talk show, the Today Show blog and on the front page of The Washington Post. A blog with nearly 100,000 hits (findsassafras.net), a Twitter account (@FindSassafras) and a short film by AU grad student Jon Hussey have also been staples of the “Find Sassafras” movement.

It’s hard not to hear Sassafras’ story and wonder how far Abramson and Edinger will go before their dog comes home. On their blog’s FAQ page, the owners simply say that they’ve spent “a lot” on the mission, acknowledging that the cost is continually growing. However, as of September, they had spent over $10,000. Sassafras is prone to seizures and had been on medication for six months before she disappeared. The costs of her medical bills and her veterinary neurologist compounded with the additional search funds would have caused less motivated or well-off pet owners to give up the search.

Freshman Gabrielle Jette, who has three dogs and two cats, thinks that’s a lot of money. “It’s sad to say its not worth it, but in reality, it’s too much,” she said. “Ten thousand dollars is too much.” Sassy’s family, however, reaffirms that their optimism and hope reflects money well-spent.

The term “animal tracker” might bring up the image of a microchip imbedded under the skin of a pet. Sassafras has one of those, but she also has a different kind of animal tracker. Sam and Salsa are the human and canine team from Pure Gold Pet Trackers that are responsible for bringing the hope “rushing in unbidden” Edinger said. The search doesn’t come cheap though—tracking with the olfactory-enhanced dog runs $100 per hour, no small cost for a family that’s offering a large reward and has a baby at home. Edinger said tracking sessions lift spirits, but morale is more of a struggle. In the end, late night calls from neighbors or residents reassuring her that Sassafras is still alive help Edinger the most. She credits some of those late night sightings to the “quirky” schedules of AU students.

Rebecca Day, an AU student, has yet to call, but has been helping with the cause in her own way. Her involvement started out as a way to decorate her door at the beginning of the year, taking cool or funny posters off walls on campus. Then, on her way to work in September, she saw a Sassafras poster.

“I thought ‘Oh, this is the dog that everyone’s talking about,’” she said. This may not have been what Edinger and Abramson wanted for the poster, but the poster’s presence on campus has helped get the word out to AU students. The bright yellow flier, which miraculously survived the winter hallway cleanup, may help to make passerbys aware that Sassafras is still missing.

For many AU students who are without an animal companion, their pets are often considered extensions of the family. Nonetheless, it’s hard to imagine spending money on an animal that requires more than two pinches of food every day.
Having a pet isn’t cheap; the ASPCA says that owners spend between $715 and $800 per year on each dog or cat they own. The cost combined with the necessary responsibility of owning a pet is enough incentive to make most students wait until they have real jobs and homes. Maybe the temporary isolation from their pets makes it harder for some young people to relate to a predicament like that of Sassy’s owners. Maybe that’s why Edinger and Abramson get the occasional call from people trying to scam them out of the hefty reward.

For freshman Caitlin Freiss, not having a cat in her life is almost as bad as losing one. She and her roommate considered living on campus next year, but what drew them toward off-campus housing wasn’t just the lower cost, but also the possibility of being a foster home to cats through the Washington Humane Society. Freiss has even done research on what kind of human food cats could eat, because the cost of owning a pet can get expensive. Abramson and Edinger can certainly relate to Freiss’ hopefulness about providing lost pets with loving homes.

Illustration by Carolyn Becker.