Lest We Forget
Today is ANZAC Day in Australia, a day when the nation unites to remember and pay respect to the members of the Australian and New Zealand armed forces who died in the service of their countries. It is a fitting, reverent occasion on which to pause and absorb the enormity of paying the ultimate sacrifice in war. My own experience of military conflict was far from the horrors of Gallipoli or Normandy, but it was nevertheless, a profound and sobering encounter with the tragedies and trauma of war. Apart from the bravery, courage and sacrifice of those comrades who died during my service, my abiding memory is of the children forever scarred by the trauma growing up in a war zone. What struck me most was how normal life could appear. During the lulls between shelling and gunfire, children would return to school and laugh and play in the village streets. Despite the chaos of their reality, there was a resilience in them that insisted on the normalcy of play, learning, and connection.
But trauma, of course, doesn’t always wear visible wounds. Beneath the surface, these children were navigating a world of continuing conflict, where families could be altered irrevocably in an instant, and where danger was routine. In such an environment, the developing brain adapts not for growth, but for survival. Hypervigilance, emotional numbing, difficulty trusting others, all common responses in children who grow up in zones of conflict. And while their strength was undeniable, the cost can be high. Trauma theory teaches us that the impact of such early adversity is of significant influence in the development of identity, relationships, and mental health. This is the heartbreaking reality of intergenerational trauma. Children survivors of conflict may one day become parents themselves, and carry with them, not just the tormented memories of their childhood, but also the psychological complexities brought about by fear, loss, and disrupted attachment. What follows is a continuum of trauma in which their children may grow up in a family shaped by emotional absence, unresolved grief, anxiety and fear.
It's crucial that we never confuse a child’s ability to adapt with an absence of harm. The smiles and games I witnessed were real, and they mattered. But they existed alongside a depth of suffering that should never be experienced by any child. War leaves its mark not only on the battlefield, but in the minds of children who learned far too early that the world is not always safe. “War” and “conflict” are interesting words because they don’t just exist in the realm of the media or a distant country. Where was yours?
Mind yourself.
Alan.