Recent and ongoing events in the U.S. and throughout the world—unstable political leadership, natural disasters, armed conflicts, violence, and racism—have a profound impact on our collective sense of well-being. Stress levels among Americans have skyrocketed over the past 20 years. Depending on a group’s proximity to experiencing the event, the effects can range from chronic stress to Mental health challenges to PTSD. Are these events considered collective traumas? And can current events trigger unresolved traumas of the past?
While individual trauma has been studied, collective trauma is still a relatively new area of research. Sociologist Kai Erikson characterized a 1972 devastating coalmine flood in Western Virginia as a collective trauma, observing “a blow to the basic tissues of social life that damages bonds [leads to] a general realization that the community no longer exists as an effective source of support.”
While Erikson explained collective trauma as short-term and circumstantial, resulting from a mass disaster or event, more recent research has examined its insidious nature and deleterious, widespread impact, identifying it as a major public health concern. Sociologist Seth Abrutyn of the University of British Columbia writes, “Collective trauma refers to the sudden, acute destruction of social infrastructure.” Think of this infrastructure as the social bonds and community relationships we all rely upon.
When wildfires burn, hurricanes destroy entire communities, firearm violence persists, and persistent, and structural racism and oppression of underrepresented groups occur simultaneously, these cascading collective traumas can lead to short-term anxiety to longer-term depression and PTSD. Take recent history, for example. Compounding the disruption of the pandemic, there were multiple cascading events in 2020 and 2021 in the U.S., including weather-related tragedies and racial killings. Gun violence, said former Surgeon General Vivek Murthy, results in collective trauma and fear.
Roxane Cohen Silver of the University of California, Irvine, testified about the compounding crises of 2020 before the U.S. House of Representatives, stating, “Together, the combination of medical, economic, racial and climate-based catastrophes highlights the need for attention to the meaning and implications of cumulative, compounding trauma exposure.” She noted that the COVID-19 collective trauma disproportionately affected Black, Latinx, and Indigenous communities in the U.S. who “are suffering disproportionately from COVID-19, compounded by historical trauma, systemic racism, and persistent poverty, allocating additional resources to traditionally underserved and working communities of color is critical.”
In a longitudinal study of 6500 people, Cohen Silver and colleagues found that rates of acute stress and depressive symptoms increased as the pandemic progressed, particularly among those with pre-existing mental and physical health conditions. They also found that job and wage loss and a shortage of necessities also led to stress and depressive symptoms. Extensive exposure to news and conflicting information were correlated with acute stress.
While these examples of collective traumas may appear to “come out of the blue,” many of these events have their origin in unresolved crises of the past. The Buffalo Creek mine flood is widely believed to be caused by the mine owners. What is potentially interesting is to examine past collective events that may have been buried in our memory, lodged in our collective unconscious. When a traumatic event later happens, we are shocked—and often numb. The surprise and shock reveal our disconnect, and numbness and indifference can prevent us from seeing the depth of the fragmentation in the social fabric that led up to the event. In studying this “trauma material,” we learn that the progression or accumulation of trauma is not linear, with roots that extend perhaps before the current generation or from decades-old historical traumas.
Can the current political situation and polarization in the U.S. be considered a collective trauma? There’s no one objective answer to this question. Political upheavals and even threats to democracy can activate change and resistance, leading to greater resilience among citizens. It remains to be seen whether the coming years will continue the collective stress that has permeated much of the U.S. in recent years. However, because of the extremist views and language in the current political climate, those who experience racism, colonialization, and other forms of oppression are experiencing a sense of shock—and are being triggered in varying degrees of intensity.
For a group that has experienced historical traumas, the current political climate can reawaken old fears and lead to new ones. And, many would argue that this current political climate has resulted in reverberations of shock throughout the U.S. and around the world, and has the potential to reenact new cycles of trauma.
In the meantime, there is unarguably a mood of stress and fear permeating immigrant communities, women, and others, as this year continues to unfold. Could this experience be a form of cultural trauma? Abrutyn defines cultural trauma as that which “affects Mental health in several ways. Groups integrate and regulate their members based on some form of shared culture (Subica and Link 2021), and cultural trauma involves the degradation of this culture, constraints on its perpetuation, and even its appropriation.”
Joy DeGruy, researcher and author of Post Traumatic Slave Syndrome: America’s Legacy of Enduring Injury and Healing, asserts that an unresolved collective trauma impacts those well beyond the disenfranchised. She describes how the legacy of slavery and the subsequent disenfranchisement of Black citizens has resulted in a deep and collective denial of the past on the part of many white Americans, as well as an inability or unwillingness to acknowledge their race-based privilege. By returning to the origins of the unhealed trauma, accepting responsibility as a nation, and encouraging collective healing, we open a path toward restoration, breaking the cycle of this longstanding and persistent historic trauma.
Distinguishing the level of trauma one is exposed to can potentially help reduce the symptoms of stress. For example, recovering from the aftermath of a hurricane may be an unavoidable personal and community process. However, taking a break from reading the news about traumatic large-scale events may help minimize stress. Creating community and circles that support social resilience and listening can help decrease collective stress, emphasizing safety and togetherness. Stress-relieving practices such as yoga, exercise, and meditation may help provide solace.
In 2017, churches and other places of worship saw an increase in attendees, many of whom seemed to long for a sense of community and relief from post-election angst. After all, minimizing collective stress begins with individual choices which can ultimately change the trajectory of our national well-being.
