In the theatre of Westminster, where power dresses itself in ceremony and affectation, a terrible truth is obscured by the pomp: the men and women who vote to send bombs, bullets and battalions into other people’s countries rarely hear the screams. They don’t see the charred remains of children in Fallujah, the mass graves in Helmand, the dismembered in Gaza. Yet they are just as responsible – no, more responsible – than the soldier who pulls the trigger. They are the architects. The war-makers. In a truly just world, they would be seen for what they are: combatants in suits.