Perhaps the most popular mantra used to justify the war in Iraq is “freedom isn’t free.” The problem, of course, is that the Bush administration has shown, time and again, that freedom, while not free, is certainly cheap, if not disposable.

There is no cherished American liberty that has not been compromised by this administration, if not abrogated entirely. To make this point, one need only count the ways.

Freedom of speech was an early casualty of the Bush reinterpretation of the Bill of Rights. Those who spoke out against his unholy war were quickly labeled unpatriotic. Those few reporters who showed moxie at press conferences by asking pointed questions were either ridiculed by Donald Rumsfeld (late of the Defense Department) or bullied by the president himself until silence reigned or questions turned to more manageable topics, such as Mr. Bush’s vacation plans or his love for clearing cedar brush on his Texas ranch.

The freedom to peaceably gather suffered an odd fate. Although acknowledged in principle (sayeth Bush: “I love democracy”) demonstrators have been corralled in government-approved arenas, far removed from the events they are demonstrating against. Under such conditions, they might just as well ballyhoo their indignations into the nearest manhole.

The right to legal counsel has been rendered, in the word of Attorney General Alberto Gonzales, “quaint.” President Bush has endowed prosecutors with the power to railroad suspects through courts without the burden of evidence. And should the defense press for such evidence, it is automatically denied on the premise that to supply it would compromise national security. (Reference the case of accused American bomb plotter Jose Padilla, or Navy veteran Donald Vance, who was held without evidence of wrongdoing for ninety-seven days in a maximum security detention facility in Baghdad. “Even Saddam Hussein had more legal counsel than I ever had,” he said.)

The constitutional proscription against cruel and unusual punishment experienced its proving ground in the case of “enemy combatants” held at Guantanamo Bay, Abu Ghraib and various secret prisons. But it is difficult to restrict injustice to select groups, in these cases foreign nationals, and it has now spilled over into the treatment of American citizens caught up in the mania for the creation of an absolutely secure state, security having trumped liberty as the republic’s stock-in-trade. Was Padilla tortured? We may never know: Most of the evidence against him is sealed from public view for reasons of – what else? – national security.

The press also took its share of hard knocks, as when the administration remained mum when Iraqi police closed the offices of the Al Jazeera news service because of its apparent failure to support the U.S. occupation. More covert efforts were undertaken to hijack the fourth estate when American authorities paid Iraqi newspapers to run predigested, always positive stories about military successes. But more insidious was the whole idea of embedding reporters with American military units. This all but guaranteed press sympathy as these journalists bonded with those they were supposed to be casting the cold, hard eye of investigative reporting upon.

One might ask why, if fundamental and traditional American freedoms – the cornerstones of the republic – have been so easily diluted or dispensed with, there hasn’t been a widespread outcry. The reason is clear: The American, when the era of affluence dawned, came to place a higher value upon economic freedom, rather than political freedom. Tell an American that his domestic phone conversations are being tapped and he yawns. But raise the price of a gallon of gas by a nickel and he squeals like a stuck pig. As long as Americans can make money as they see fit, and shop as they see fit, and enjoy the perceived entitlement of cheap fuel, they purr with the contentment of a kitten having its belly scratched. The business of America, after all, is business.

It’s hard to predict how this whole dirty business will end up. But I heard somewhere that even the president’s dog will no longer sit on his lap. Perhaps Alberto Gonzales does not want to share that coveted space. But in times as dire as these, I am always comforted by the counsel of the founding fathers, who harbored deep distrust of overweening government, and with good reason.

They knew, in ways that we seem to have forgotten, that nothing is so dangerous as power placed in the hands of those who believe that no one is watching.

Robert Klose is an associate professor at University College of Bangor. He is the author of the recently released book, “Small Worlds – Adopted Sons, Pet Piranhas and Other Mortal Concerns.”