Forward Vision
Seeing the whole animal:
You never know when or under what conditions
you will be asked to educate someone.
By Robin Hayden & Tess Black

Recently, the wife of a military serviceman stationed nearby, having heard about the Center of Excellence, called to ask if I could speak about complex humanitarian emergencies—to a troop of Brownies?

I had given briefs to ambassadors and admirals, so how tough could a group of little girls be? With a map of the world in tow, I drove to my host’s at the end of a long day at the office. After the obligatory punch and cookies were served, I sat amidst incredible mayhem and held up the map to the fidgety girls kneeling around me. I cursed the ridiculous notion I had harbored that something so complex could be simply and gracefully delivered to this audience. But they surprised me. And I surprised myself.

“Do you know where Hawaii is?”

Yes, they, said, and pointed to the small group of islands in the Pacific Ocean.

These were military kids after all, so when I asked where they had lived before, they found California, Florida, Texas. I went through the ‘ought-to-knows’—New York City, Washington, D.C.—then France, Japan and Australia. This was more challenging, but they muddled through.

“Somalia?”

Nope.

“Bosnia? Rwanda?”

They looked at me, puzzled. For the next half-hour, through questions, answers and discussion back and forth, they learned about many people and places they had never heard of in their short lives. We talked about the differences between natural disasters and complex emergencies. We discussed effects of population growth, even politics and economics. They learned that floods, earthquakes and wars happen and that systems break down. They learned about how the civilians and sometimes the military provide food, water, medicine; they build bridges and set up camps; all for people like themselves—young, vulnerable, dependent—but who are nevertheless the future of their own countries and peoples.

To see if they had been listening, I asked them what they might do if one day they, too, were to work for a civilian relief agency or serve in the military? Provide humanitarian relief. Why, I asked? Because, they answered, if those people were fed and healthy, they would be in a better position to take care of themselves.

Not bad, not bad at all, I thought, delighted with our mutual learning exercise. But these were kids with open minds. They absorb information without the benefit—or the hindrance—of knowledge gained from experience. On the opposite end of the spectrum then, I was reminded of the parable about the learned blind men and their first encounter with an elephant. Unaware of anything beyond what his sense of touch could tell him, each came away with only a partial understanding of the world of “elephant.”

The parable goes like this:

It was six men of Indostan
To learning much inclined
Who went to see the Elephant
(Though all of them were blind)
That each by observation
Might satisfy his mind.

The First approached the Elephant
And, happening to fall
Against his broad and sturdy side,
At once began to bawl:
“God bless me, but the Elephant
Is very like a wall!”

The Second, feeling the tusk,
Cried, “Ho! What have we here
So very round and smooth and sharp?
To me ’tis very clear
This wonder of an Elephant
Is very like a spear!”

The Third approached the animal
And, happening to take
The squirming trunk within his hands,
Thus boldly up and spake:
“I see,” quoth he,
“The Elephant Is very like a snake!”

The Fourth reached out an eager hand,
And felt about the knee:
“What most the wondrous beast is like
Is very plain,” quoth he;
“’Tis clear enough, the Elephant
Is very like a tree!”

The Fifth, who chanced to touch the ear,
Said: “Even the blindest man
Can tell what this resembles most;
Deny the fact who can
This marvel of an elephant
Is very like a fan!”

The Sixth no sooner had begun
About the beast to grope
Than, seizing on the swinging tail
That fell within his scope,
“I see,” quoth he, “the Elephant
Is very like a rope!”

And so these men of Indostan
Disputed loud and long
Each in his own opinion
Exceeding stiff and strong.
Though each was partly in the right,
They all were in the wrong!

While endlessly evocative, two observations are immediately apparent from these extremes: we learn from each other; and no one, separately, can know all there is to know.

Learning is a lifelong process and a kind of evolving awareness that leads us to ever-expanding possibilities and solutions to the problems our world presents. And so this issue of The Liaison is dedicated to education. You notice a panorama of faces here; knowledge shared is the first step to knowledge learned, from one person to another.

Dr. Tony Marsella examines the new opportunities in education overall. As a recent student, Center staffer James Wigdel provides an in-depth look at the Combined Humanitarian Assistance Response Training course, the mainstay of the Center’s Education and Training Program. The program’s manager, John Otte, caught in conversation with Tess Black, reveals the finer points of his own educational experiences and their impact on his work at the Center. Jeff Lewis provides a survey of programs available around the world, and discusses the Center’s place in it. Tess Black shares how new communications technologies and graphic design improves the delivery of educational materials, and James White follows with a more in-depth look at one home-grown developing degree program in collaboration with the University of Hawaii. Finally, if you want to pursue a career in this field, we suggest several questions you need to ask yourself to achieve the best personal result.

Some qualities we discovered—besides intelligence—you might find useful as you pursue more knowledge and skills in this field: a sense of humor, a few grains of salt, and a humble opinion of self. We hope you have fun while learning something along the way.

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