In George Orwell’s 1984, war was always humming in the background. It was Big Brother’s way of keeping folks in tow. They were constantly told that should the war effort slacken, their entire society would be overrun by the “enemy.” There were no visible bodies, no unsettling sacrifices on the home front, no foreign incursions, just the low drone of a persistent, undefinable threat.

Which is what we have today. Not long ago, I was speaking with someone who told me, nodding sagely, that the Iraq war would be over within the year. I was astonished by his naivet?. There is absolutely no benefit to be derived from ending this war. In fact, the United States is able to sustain it indefinitely. And for good reasons.

First, we can afford it. Due to our vast wealth and ability to print money at will, a war of this nature – not hot, not cold, but lukewarm – can be prosecuted across generations. Any negative impact it has had on the domestic economy has been negligible, as evidenced by a generally healthy stock market, receding joblessness and low inflation. Any “sacrifices” it has warranted have been tolerable: the post office opens an hour later; Amtrak funding has been reduced; veterans’ benefits have been trimmed.

Who notices these things? Who cares?

Second, the war is largely invisible. The administration has forbidden the transmission of any images of war dead returning home. The president himself has called for the reporting of “happy news” from Iraq, and often gets his wish. (I understand that photos of the dead al-Zarqawi are now available for public purchase. Can dart boards with his image be far behind?)

Third, most Americans have no personal connection to the war. Just consider: we are a country of 290 million souls, but there are only 128 thousand service people in Iraq. Thus the average American has a 0.04 percent chance of knowing someone on the battlefield. With “only” 2,500 war dead, there is even less of a chance (0.0008 percent) that any of us knows someone who has died in Iraq, or even knows someone who knows someone who has died. For this reason the “war” exists in a sort of twilight zone for the nation as a whole; it is something more than a figment of the imagination, but something less than reality.

Fourth, there will always be a supply of willing foot soldiers to serve as fodder for the ambitions of the five men (Bush, Cheney, Rumsfeld, Ashcroft and Wolfowitz) who concocted this “war” and whooped to its prosecution with such ?lan. Teddy Roosevelt once remarked, “The triumphs of peace pale when compared to the supreme triumphs of war.” He was right. We love the glitz, glare and the hardware of war. We love the idea of being on a “mission.” Death, from a distance, has a certain charm. Old veterans love to drag their uniforms out of mothballs and tell war stories to the young, especially those on active duty. And for those prospective recruits who are leaning toward service but just aren’t sure, there is the enlistment bribe.

Last, there is the gullibility of the citizenry itself, its willingness to live not by bread alone, but by every word that foams from the mouths of Bush, Cheney, et al. Sometimes they even out-confabulate the White House. One kind but unwitting soul recently confided to me, “You know, Saddam Hussein still has nuclear weapons pointed at us.” When I asked her why he hasn’t secretly issued orders to fire them, she told me he

can’t because he’s in prison. Who knows? Perhaps she’s right. But the evidence suggests otherwise.

For all of these reasons, Iraq is less a war than it is a chronic condition. Like sciatica or bunions, it inconveniences us at times, but does not incapacitate us. In fact, enduring it is a way of showing, in our own minds at least, how much we can take.

The great irony is that, if this adventure had truly been a “mission accomplished,” and we had been in and out within the initially projected weeks or months, the president would never have been reelected, because tragically, wastefully, sadly, he would have had nothing else to show for his time in office.

He needs this war. And the Republic – both Congress and the proletariat – is willing, able and happy to accommodate him.

Robert Klose frequently writes essays for the Christian Science Monitor and teaches at University College of Bangor.