Guardian Weekly

We can add up the cost of war, but the trauma is felt for generations Jonathan Freedland

Every time I look at the pictures of Mariupol or Kharkiv, I see a corner of Whitechapel in east London. I reacted the same way to images of Aleppo and, before that, Falluja and, before that, Grozny, because buildings crushed to rubble have a sad habit of looking the same. It brings back a memory – or rather something fainter: an inherited memory, one that was passed to me.

Its origin is 27 March 1945; the 77th anniversary is this week.

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