In the war led by Margaret Thatcher's governments - against the left, the trade unions, the post-war consensus - her side was crushingly, devastatingly, humiliatingly victorious.
In the coming days, some on the right will attempt to snuff out criticism of her legacy, arguing that it is somehow disrespectful, spiteful or ghoulish.
Absurd, of course: she was a politician - the most divisive in modern British history - and what she represented must of course be debated. They will use the moment of her passing to batter Thatcherism into the national psyche: that she somehow saved Britain from ruin, put the "great" back into "Great Britain", and so forth. Those who grew up in the Britain that Thatcher built will be patronised: you were still learning how to walk at the height of her power. And that is why it is crucial to separate Thatcherism from the woman who spearheaded it.
Thatcherism was a national catastrophe, and we remain trapped by its consequences. As her former Chancellor Geoffrey Howe put it: "Her real triumph was to have transformed not just one party but two, so that when Labour did eventually return, the great bulk of Thatcherism was accepted as irreversible."
We are in the midst of the third great economic collapse since World War II: all three have taken place since Thatcherism launched its great crusade. This crisis has roots in the Thatcherite free market experiment, which wiped out much of the country's industrial base in favour of a deregulated financial sector.