I don't know about you but I'm tired of this professor crap. Day in, day out, we have to call our professors by their title and last name. It's just so passe. It's time that we start addressing our professors by who they are, not what they are; that means, yes, by their first names.

I make my proposal not just because it's so out of touch with the rest of society to continue calling people by their titles, but because there is a very compelling pragmatic reason for doing this, and it's based on proven military practice. Here's what I mean.

When I was a little kid, my history teachers at the local Hebrew day school often spun grand tales about the fighting effectiveness of the Israeli Defense Forces. We were told how the IDF were the most feared military unit in the Middle East, and that person for person, the Israeli military could kick anyone's tuchus from here to the World to Come.

Well, like any trigger-happy 10 year-old, I sought out more information about the IDF, the world's most shitkicking minyan. I subscribed to Jane's Defense Weekly. I wanted to find out what it was about the IDF's organizational structure that made them so darn good.

It was only after visiting my cousins in Israel, who were serving in the IDF at the time, that I discovered what, to use some social sciences jargon, the intervening variable was.

While on weekend leave, my cousin Shlomi's commander dropped by for coffee, without either the battle fatigues or imposing manner one would expect from a platoon leader. After he left I asked Shlomi who this friendly guy was. Shlomi replied, "That's Dudu (a common Hebrew nickname for guys named David). He's a close friend and he's also my boss."

Wait a second, I said incredulously, you call your military commander by his first name?

"Sure. All soldiers call their leaders by their first names."

Needless to say, I was dumbfounded by his casual response. I verified this information recently with Alon Peled, a graduate student in the government department who is studying Israeli military structure and policy, and he said that after basic training, it's not unusual at all for reserves and enlisted men to call their superiors by their first name, even four or five ranks above.

The IDF's effectiveness, I decided, had nothing whatsoever to do with state-of-the-art technology, years of extensive training or the special sauce that the army uses in their falafel recipes; it was predicated on their unique egalitarian spirit.

Harvard faculty, not especially known for hanging out with undergraduates, could learn a lesson from the Israeli army. Because of their preeminence, our professors bear a special burden in leading the fight against the Forces of Ignorance and Dogma (FID). No longer can Harvard profs continue to coast by on the reputation, resources and riches of Harvard.

Like the IDF, Harvard must learn to avoid stiff formality at all costs. The best way for Harvard's community to become more effective in crushing FID once and for all is, to quote Ross Perot, "join hands together and just lick this problem."

FID can only be destroyed by reclaiming the moral high ground of egalitarianism. Precisely because professors are more experienced in this battle, they should lead their students in the same way that Israeli commanders lead their troops (specific policies notwithstanding).

Regardless of their title and length of tenure, all professors should introduce themselves by their first names and be addressed by their students in this egalitarian way.

FID is a tough adversary and it won't be an easy transition to shift to this military-like organization. Already, Thompson Professor of Government Harvey C. Mansfield Jr. has declared his opposition to such a call to first names: "We need more elitism in our society, not more egalitarianism," Mansfield said. "A professor is not your friend," he added.