Imagine an abandoned airfield, the terminal partially destroyed and the tarmac pockmarked with holes from mortar and artillery explosions.
Within three hours of the first arrival of United States troops, holes have been dug to fight from, patrols have been sent out to secure the immediate perimeter, and the tarmac is being inspected for repair.
By the second day, elaborate communications between each perimeter position have been established and complex communications have linked the unit to the United States, half a world away.
By the third day, patrols have been pushed out further, additional troops have been brought in, the perimeter is reinforced, and the tarmac is under repair. Troops have cursed the weather and started wishing reverently for mail, and the more capitalistic of them have began to make money by selling tobacco products.
By the end of the week, the fighting holes have been linked with trenches, the tarmac is repaired, planes are landing with regular frequency - if regular frequency is between the hours of 11 p.m. and 5 a.m. - and a general or two has stopped by the say "Hello" in the way generals tend to do. The troops have miraculously produced a football, a few radios, CDs, socially unacceptable reading material and, God only knows how, a guitar. A store of sorts with Coke, candy and tobacco products has formed.
By the second week, phones have been established, the media has shown up to agitate the troops, not a single casualty has remained unstable for more than 20 minutes and some of the more ingenious troops have rigged up a method for showering, although there is not one plumber among them.
This entire process is conducted in spite of intermittent patrols, enemy harassment, less than four hours of sleep a day and an overwhelming desire on the part of the troops not to move one more shovelful of dirt in their lives.
I give you military efficiency as I experienced it in Kandahar airfield in December 2001.
Shift your imagination to a country experiencing starvation.
Pick any particular day and 10,000 people die.
By the first day, families are fragmented, towns are experiencing riots and infrastructure is quickly breaking down.
By the end of the first week, disease from the mass of unburied bodies is beginning to add to the death toll. Large portions of the country are in crisis. Children sit listless and hopeless, their stomachs distended by starvation, some or all of their family members dead.
By the second week, humanitarian aid has arrived, but in insufficient amounts. The food is distributed unequally due to desperate crowds of people. A lot of it wasted in the process of grabbing as much as possible in a short a time as possible.
This situation occurred in Africa, Southwest Asia and the Middle East multiple times in the last century and is waiting to occur again.
First of all, let me say the following is not to be taken as an insult to the men and women in the uniform and the excellent job they do in spite of nearly any condition.
Imagine. though, if we could harness the military might and channel it into humanitarian aid. The billions of dollars spent on the war in Iraq would revive a country begging for assistance and create a global partner of the United States. The unity, brotherhood and discipline found in military units could easily be transferred into an organization organized along military efficiency but with a humanitarian aid in mind. These men and women could be deployed to a country and develop civil improvement projects and teach the stricken communities how to live healthy lives and methods of making their land productive.
It's unfortunate that history has provided us for a framework of creating efficient armies, but not the framework for creating efficient large-scale humanistic organizations.
Jason Hodson is a senior Mathematics Major and writes 'Toward Disrespectful Authority' for the Daily News. His views do not necessarily agree with those of the newspaper.
Write to Jason at jlhodson@bsu.edu.