I grew up in a suburban middle class house - in a family with two cars, two children and a dog. We lived on our street with other suburban middle class families, most of whom practiced similar lifestyles, worked in similar professions and traveled in similar social circles. My next-door neighbor lived a childhood that I assume was relatively similar to mine. Yet after high school, this neighbor decided to join the United States Marine Corps. Soon after, he found himself in Iraq.

I'm not sharing this information with the intent of sparking discussion on the pros and cons of martial conflict, nor am I reaching for judgments as to whether or not one should volunteer to fight for one's country. These are both thought-provoking issues, but ones better left untouched for the time being. Rather, I share this with you because I have unknowingly stumbled upon an anomaly that concerns me greatly; my peers - at Brandeis especially - are far removed from the conflict in Iraq.

This may seem at first like a difficult statement to allege. Most of my peers have been following the war carefully from its beginnings, watching the news and reading the reports that fired in day after day. Many of my friends have very strong opinions about the war and speak their minds whenever someone will listen. Some of my friends even walked out of their classes last year, boldly demonstrating their views on President Bush's war plans in Iraq.

But none of my friends had to worry about being sent to Iraq. None of my friends' parents cried sleepless nights away out of stark desperation and dread. No one asked me to pray for them while they were away. No one, save for my neighbor.

In my book, the explanation for this aberration is plain and simple. None of my friends know soldiers in Iraq because they all grew up like I did. We come from suburban middle class backgrounds, have parents in parallel professions and pursue comparable educations.

The only reason I know someone in Iraq now is because my parents liked the house next to his. If anything, he's the deviation from the norm, the one who tore down the erected social mores. He's the rich kid fighting a poor man's war.

There, I said it, the taboo phrase everyone's been waiting to spit out: We are again experiencing a class war, though arguably to a greater degree than even Vietnam perpetuated.

This is a poor man's war for two reasons. First, the military is giving out more money than ever to send people to college. Secondly, unlike in Vietnam, there is no draft for the conflict in Iraq. My peers and I have little to worry about in that respect. Everyone in Iraq is there because they want to be there, not because the government requires it.

The incentive of a productive future, wed with dreams of glory and honor, has pushed many people to join the Army as an escape from their otherwise dismal prospects. The chance to make a brilliant life for themselves has fused the lower class as the backbone of our military.

This reality is driving a wedge through the greater part of America. We panic after September 11th; we wreak our vengeance on those unfortunate enough to be associated with terrorism; we discover a new found patriotism burning inside us; we get riled up about war; and now we scorn those who participate in it. We must look very fickle to the rest of the world.

Even more importantly, we look very specious to ourselves. At a time in our history when we are broadcasting messages of unity and rectitude, we are unwittingly segregating our society further. We are claiming to shine a beacon of moral democracy to the darkest corners of the world, but we are sending our lower class to die for that message.

Please understand, I am not claiming that we should all suit up in fatigues and charge the desert dunes. I am not suggesting that we should all leave college and enlist in the Marines. I am not even convinced that there is an answer to this problem. Some tell me there is no problem: Those people who want to serve their country through the military are doing so (and receiving a future through the process), while those who wish to serve their country in other ways are also taking advantage of those opportunities. All of this is clear to me.

My concern is that we cry for a world free of terrorism, we plead for an end to conflict, we show the world how to run a country and we claim to be united, but few of us take the time for careful introspection. We regularly reflect on what other countries are doing, easily critiquing their actions and pasts. Rarely do we look at our own condition and see that we have the same problems we so easily condemn elsewhere.

We are so wrapped up in other people's affairs that we have begun to establish gross hypocrisies. At the point in our history when we preach about being a truly united country, we are inadvertently widening the chasm between the classes.

No longer is it merely that the wealthy are getting wealthier while the poor get poorer. The issue has returned to the poor dying so the wealthy feel safe. Our solidarity is a facade which we have hatched through our overzealousness, one that will only hinder us in the future.

I am now concerned. I was not worried about terrorism in my neighborhood and I had no fear the United States would fall. I feared for our men and women overseas, but I had no doubt they would win their skirmish. It is only now, in my everyday life, when the only soldier I know is an altruistic oddity, that I am worried. I worry that my children will live in a land where they expect others to achieve their justice. I tremble that I may, with more time, not be shocked that the poor fight my fights. It is now, when I hardly notice that a burgeoning injustice is seeping into my life, that I cry out for resolve. And the most terrifying part about this fight is that I, a comfortable middle-class citizen, embody the attributes I now denounce.