A week is a long time in politics - it's a cliche universally acknowledged. So when figures from the US administration talk about a military posture which could last for "decades", you can take it that they're not just underlining the world-historical importance of their "anti-terrorist" actions; they're also putting them into a timescale that in political argot is like saying "forever".
It's less a forecast, or even a threat, than it is an article of faith, a promise of endless empire.
Yes, empire, though there's nothing particularly "evil" about US designs upon the world. It's entirely true, indeed, to say that US politics contains a significant isolationist streak. (George Bush himself ran against the Clinton record of "overstretching" the military.) So why is the US now intently pursuing what its war-planners call "full spectrum dominance"? Perhaps because it can.
Indeed, it's hard to imagine an armed government, free of powerful state enemies, backed by capitalist interests and handed a political opportunity by terrorist murderers, that wouldn't behave as America is doing - building up troops, bases and bombs around the world, cajoling and threatening those who might oppose it. In some sense, the US, for all its strategic planning, has had global greatness thrust upon it.
The US does face some constraints: a botched raid near Kandahar, soon after the Afghan bombing started nearly six months ago, reminded its generals of the political preference to use proxy fighters where possible. And while US leaders don't feel compelled to confine "war" to al-Qaeda and its alleged allies, other countries may demur.
Then there's the need for carrots to go with sticks: the US surprised everyone, including Mr Bush himself, with last week's increase in its development-aid budget (while maintaining its right to define "development").
But the constraints are paltry and alternatives to US power are fading from view. US forces are now in more than 130 countries: newly-stretched across oil-and-gas-rich central Asia; in combat in the Philippines despite opposition from (mere) Filipinos.
Such are the imperial assumptions about Latin America that Sinn Féin is made to answer for alleged activities in Colombia to a US congressional committee. (To which Sinn Fein's most appropriate, though unlikely response, is: "None of your friggin' business. What are you doing in Colombia?")
From Ireland to Israel - in places where the US has minimal military presence - politics is conducted by "US special envoys".
The UN, meanwhile, has the status of a glorified aid agency: on hand to help thousands of Afghan civilians when an earthquake strikes; powerless to protect thousands more of them when the US daisycutters explode.
AROUND here some liberals are inclined to compare today's US policy favourably with that of the Cold War. It's a blinkered view. Not only is the US now less constrained, militarily and politically, internationally and domestically, but in the new era it has also blithely carried on punishing those who resisted the hottest of its Cold War policies.
Cuba suffers under a US embargo; Nicaragua, brutally impoverished in spite of its capitulation, saw the US blatantly interfering in an election just months ago; Vietnam only escaped US trade isolation two decades after its military victory and only when it was clearly ready to contribute its share of Asia's sweatshop labour for US multinationals; Iran and North Korea are threatened with the "axis of evil" label.
And the US holds tight to its nuclear weapons, planning new uses for them, preparing a so-called "shield" to expand its options against the enemies it might choose to attack.
Ireland, it is argued, is bound to support the US with our historic links and all the Irish and Irish-American victims of the September atrocity. But look beyond the understandable sentiment: how does the fact that emigrants like my grandparents eked out existence in New York tenements rather than in Irish cottages confer special political virtue on America?
And why should Irish deaths at the hands of America's enemies confer privileged status on America's war? Eighty-six years ago, the founders of this State looked at a world where innocent young men, Irishmen among them, were fighting in the cause of an empire, though the fight was couched in euphemism about "civilisation" and "freedom".
And on Easter Monday 1916, Connolly, Pearse and the rest stabbed the empire in the back.
Maybe, copious lines of political descent notwithstanding, we think those guys were wrong. Maybe we reckon empires - British, Ottoman, Roman etc - have got a bum rap. Perhaps Bertie would like to be governor-general (they'd surely let him keep "Taoiseach" too) and reckons Pax Americana offers a good deal for Ireland Inc. That's fine. But let's be honest about what we're facing and embracing: a global empire primarily serving the interests of US and allied elites, on a constant war footing to deal with dissent.
If we don't like the sound of that, if words like "democracy", "equality", "justice" and "peace" keep ringing in our ears, then we need to act. That shouldn't mean more backstabbing, via paramilitary "risings" or hijacked aircraft; it doesn't mean supporting potential "counterweights" to US power - Russia, China or a militarised EU. It should mean calling a spade a spade, then struggling to create genuinely representative forms of national and international government to reflect a simple reality: as much as some of us may love the US, the vast majority of the world's people don't want to have their affairs dictated by a narrow clique in Washington.
• Mary Holland is on leave