“The truth is that every morning war is declared afresh. And the men who wish to continue it are as guilty as the men who began it, more guilty perhaps, for the latter perhaps did not foresee all its horrors.” Marcel Proust — the novelist of memory and time (1871–1922) — turns from private recollection to public complicity: a war isn’t a single decision made once, but one renewed daily, and its continuers own it as much as, or more than, the ones who started it.