Fury at Russia’s death and destruction has fuelled art, action and resistance. But eventually, rage’s fire is all-consuming
When does rage help us, and when does it harm us? Ukraine has taught me the answers | Charlotte Higgins
Fury at Russia’s death and destruction has fuelled art, action and resistance. But eventually, rage’s fire is all-consuming Twice, I have heard Ukrainians perform Verdi’s Requiem. Once in Lviv, last Maundy Thursday, and...
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Fury at Russia’s death and destruction has fuelled art, action and resistance. But eventually, rage’s fire is all-consuming Twice, I have heard Ukrainians perform Verdi’s Requiem. Once in Lviv, last Maundy Thursday, and once last month, under the great dome of St Paul’s Cathedral in London. In St Paul’s, performed by the Ukrainian Freedom Orchestra with the...
Key points
- Fury at Russia’s death and destruction has fuelled art, action and resistance.
- But eventually, rage’s fire is all-consuming Twice, I have heard Ukrainians perform Verdi’s Requiem.
- Once in Lviv, last Maundy Thursday, and once last month, under the great dome of St Paul’s Cathedral in London.
Context
This story is part of the United Kingdom coverage. The original reporting source identified by the page is The Guardian. Publication date: September 4, 2026 at 03:00.
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Twice, I have heard Ukrainians perform Verdi’s Requiem. Once in Lviv, last Maundy Thursday, and once last month, under the great dome of St Paul’s Cathedral in London. In St Paul’s, performed by the Ukrainian Freedom Orchestra with the Philharmonia Chorus, the great Dies irae – “day of anger” – unfurled in an operatic gale of fury, reverberating so powerfully around Wren’s lofty spaces that the music felt like thunder echoing between mountain peaks.
In Lviv, where it was performed by a Ukrainian chorus and orchestra, the evening began with a call to remember the war dead. Lviv’s lay a mile up the road: 153 graves when I first visited in autumn 2022, and by this year more than 1,000. Ranks and ranks of soldiers killed in their 20s, 30s and 40s, each grave planted with flowers and plants, flags flying above. On that occasion, Dies irae – in the more sober acoustic of the Lviv Philharmonic Hall – seemed to contain the furious ache of grief. Certainly I have never heard a more wrathful day of anger.
Source: The Guardian
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