Over one billion years ago, east of where the Twin Cities presently stand, a large rift formed in the earth's crust, creating the St. Croix River Valley in which we now live and study. Over millions of years, seas grew and receded in this area, and more recently, glaciers sculpted the landscape that now defines Minnesota.

Before Europeans arrived, the Twin Cities area was dominated by hardwood forests of sugar maple, basswood, white elms and red oak, providing home to raccoons, deer, rabbits, foxes, flying squirrel and many other animals. Rivers, lakes, swamps, and outlying prairie supplemented this habitat with an even greater diversity of plant and animal species. Native American tribes such as the Dakota and the Ojibway also lived in this area, practicing a semi-nomadic lifestyle that included hunting, fishing, agriculture, and gathering food.

The United States gained control over the valley through the Louisiana Purchase, and established a chain of military posts, including Fort Snelling, which was built in 1819 at the junction of the Minnesota and Mississippi Rivers. The city of St. Paul grew quickly around the fort, flourishing as the transportation center of the upper Midwest. The increased settlement forced many native tribes to give up their land, leading to conflicts such as the Minnesota Dakota War of 1862. Amidst this frontier development, in 1885, Macalester College was founded.

One hundred seventeen years later, we find ourselves in a very different landscape. The issues of our campus are not those of last century—loss of habitat and native populations (both nearly eliminated through the strains caused by human settlement), but the contemporary themes of globalization, multiculturalism, and the broad realm of social justice. Today, Macalester's statement of purpose states that we should develop into individuals who "make informed judgements and interpretations of the broader world" and become "prepared to take responsibility for [our] personal, social, and intellectual choices." However, both institutionally and academically, Macalester is largely omitting a crucial piece of the puzzle. It fails to promote ecological literacy as a necessary tool for interpreting our world.

The fault lies in a simple fact: we have forgotten that Macalester itself is a place in the world we study, that it is a community like any other whose actions have both local and global repercussions. In critiquing liberal arts institutions, Oberlin College professor David Orr writes that "without anyone saying as much, students learn the lesson of indifference to the ecology of their immediate place. Four years in a place called a campus culminates in no great understanding of the place or in the art of living responsibly in that or any other place." As a result, we become unable to see how our small community relates to the global world, and thereby lose out on an imperative part of our education. If a sense of ecological awareness is necessary to live in an ethical way in the world we face, then it must begin here. Where else will we learn?

Although heavily obscured, day-to-day decisions on campus have tremendous social and environmental consequences. A portion of our energy, supplied by Xcel Energy, comes from Manitoba Hydroelectric Co., whose dams have been associated with the destruction of the environment and culture of the Pimicikamack Cree Nation. The huge amounts of conventionally grown bananas consumed at Café Mac are responsible for the destruction of thousands of acres of land lived on by people, plants and animals throughout Central and South America. In short, we cannot separate our actions from their consequences any more than we can isolate ourselves from the world around us. As an educational institution, we need to understand the implications of our actions and work to improve them.

Though there have been successful efforts undertaken to improve the sustainability of Macalester's operations (such as energy-efficient lighting in some buildings and the option of Peace Coffee at the Grille), by and large, visibility and awareness surrounding these issues is extremely low. Few students are aware of the Talloires Declaration, signed on May 4, 2000, by Mike McPherson and ten other faculty, staff, students, alumni and trustees. The Talloires Declaration acknowledges that "environmental changes are caused by inequitable and unsustainable production and consumption patterns that aggravate poverty in many regions of the world" and states that colleges and universities are in a unique position to "set an example of environmental responsibility by establishing institutional ecology policies and practices" to help reverse these trends. However, after two years, fewer policies have been implemented than there are students who have heard of the declaration at all.

Fortunately, this is beginning to change. As the global ecological crisis grows increasingly evident, colleges and universities across the country are realizing their potential to act as vehicles for positive change, modifying their practices and adapting their curricula to incorporate ecological literacy. The Mac Weekly's Avocado Pit is part of this process; it is a column intended to foster environmental discourse on campus, not intended for one author nor one voice, but rather a space for stories both local and global, opinions both radical and conservative.

I began with a condensed localized history because I believe we must cultivate an active, educated sense of place at this school. However we choose to do so, this will be a crucial step in learning to view our campus in its appropriate ecological and social context in the world. Only by understanding our community's social, political, and environmental ties to the rest of the planet can we become fully educated citizens, and only by working to lessen our impact can Macalester become an ethical and responsible institution.