Needless to say, the Bush administration would be happy if Americans did not consider the human cost of the war. In this, they are continuing to operate on the twin lessons of Vietnam and Operation Desert Storm, each supposedly proving that if the public sees too many images of dead Americans, support for a war will quickly dissipate, while a clean war seen only from a distance will be greeted with grateful parades.

Actual evidence for this proposition is thin—it is just as likely that the casualties themselves, and not whether the bodies appear in a photograph, are what really affect public perceptions of the war. But from the perspective of the news media it should be utterly irrelevant whether photos will influence public opinion or not. Conservatives have implied that the pictures of prisoners being tortured at Abu Ghraib are worse than the torture itself, reports of desecration of the Koran are worse than the desecration itself, and reading the names of dead American service members is worse than the fact that they have died. But any reporters or editors who make decisions to include or exclude a photo or a name based on its possible political effects have betrayed their highest obligation: to the truth. Could images of the dead or a reading of their names lead some to question the war’s wisdom? Perhaps. But every report about the war influences how we think about it.

We are in the midst of an ongoing struggle to determine the content of our future memory, how we will understand Iraq in the years and decades to come. Will we remember the toppling of Saddam’s statue and purple fingers raised in pride? Or will it be a row of coffins and a lengthy list of dead soldiers, a burning car and bodies strewn on a Baghdad street?

Each war leaves behind its iconic images, the one or two visuals that remain when memories fade and details are lost. These are chosen collectively because they encapsulate what has occurred and communicate how the events are to be remembered. The raising of the flag at Iwo Jima, for instance, tells a story of heroic effort, sacrifice and, ultimately, American triumph. The 1972 photo of 9-year-old Phan Thi Kim Phuc running naked down the street after her village was napalmed shows the chaos and civilian suffering of the Vietnam War. The lasting image of Operation Desert Storm is a missile’s-eye-view of a building about to be destroyed, a victimless testament to American technological prowess and might.

As the Bush administration desperately tries to convince us that though the Iraq War has been “hard work” in the end everything will turn out splendidly, we should remember that in the rest of the world, this war’s iconic images do not symbolize liberation and hope. The rest of the world will remember the Iraq War through the photo of 12-year-old Ali Ismail Abbas, who lost both of his parents and both of his arms when an American missile destroyed his house, lying in a dingy Baghdad hospital room. They will remember that hooded figure attached to wires and standing on a box. The images they remember tell of arrogant power and innocent victims.

Here in America, our memory of the Iraq War will not be so uncomplicated. But on Memorial Day, we should take the time to note that the Iraq deaths are not merely a number (though that number now exceeds 1,650). Each one was a human being, sent thousands of miles from their homes and lives and loved ones to fight and die. More than half were under the age of 25.

Although its design was controversial at first, when the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington was unveiled Americans were overwhelmed by its emotional power. Instead of depicting an act of heroism, the Memorial shows the names of all those who served and died. It transformed the genre; memorials to war and tragedy now almost inevitably include the names of those who were killed. We now acknowledge that wars are not abstract, that when our leaders send the armed forces into battle—for reasons noble or nefarious—real Americans will die. If we want to honor their service, we need the courage to look them in the face and hear their names.

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