The Korean War lasted three years, killed between 2.
But this is actually a story about metric creep, not military futility. We've confused the scoreboard with the game.
The Korean War was never fought to redraw the map. It was fought to prevent communist unification of the peninsula and to establish South Korea as a sovereign, non-communist state—those were the actual objectives. Whether the border squiggled or stayed straight had nothing to do with achieving them.
North Korea failed to unify the peninsula under communist rule, and South Korea remained independent and non-communist. The armistice held for seventy years. By the metrics that actually mattered to the people who fought the war, both sides got something. Neither got everything—and that's not stupid, that's how wars often end.
When the metric became more important than the mission, the metric protected them straight into irrelevance.
This happens in organizations constantly. In 2006, Kodak invented the digital camera and then shelved it to protect film revenue. Kodak executives weren't idiots—they were measuring success by preserving the revenue stream from an existing business model. From that angle, the decision was rational. The problem wasn't the decision-making process.
The mission was to survive as a photography company. The metric was film sales. When the metric became more important than the mission, the metric protected them straight into irrelevance.
The lesson isn't that wars are stupid or that corporations fail because they're run by fools. It's that once you start measuring progress by the wrong thing, you stop seeing what's actually happening. You look at a map showing no border change and declare the war pointless. You protect film sales and call it business strategy. You watch the terrain you're supposed to defend disappear while your instruments tell you everything's fine.