The three women highlighted in this issue share a passion for integrating STAR concepts in personal and work settings, broader contexts of their practice, and in some of the institutions and structures they are connected to. They imagine a future where understanding the effects of trauma increases empathy, reduces cycles of violence, brings healing and increases individual and community resilience. Here’s how their passion developed, what they envision, and a peek at the path they are taking to get there.
Angela Dickey came to STAR after 25 years of working domestically and abroad for the U.S. State Department as an American Foreign Service Officer. She spent seven years in Vietnam and Laos, developing a “specialization in working in countries that had been at war with the US.” Angela saw firsthand how “war is the gift that keeps giving.” She talked to many people who are still traumatized by the war or are experiencing secondary trauma from learning about the war through stories of their parents. “Those kinds of traumas … really impact people for generations.” Angela saw how war affected governmental decision making and cultural norms decades after the war was officially declared over.
That experience, says Angela, “affected me personally very deeply. I’ve always been opposed to war in general. This made me really opposed to war at a visceral level. It made me want to figure out what that means for American Foreign policy and how it can inform our current experiences. I think about Iraq and Afghanistan. In 50 years we don’t know what we will see in those two countries.”
During the past year, Angela transitioned from her foreign service career into one focusing on peacebuilding. During a one-year fellowship at the U.S. Institute of Peace she took an initial course in trauma. Since then she’s completed STAR I and II as well as the Journey Home from War.
These trainings have influenced Angela’s current work training African soldiers who are going on peacekeeping missions for the UN and the African Union in various African conflicts. She became aware that many trainees had themselves just experienced war. She has trained in Burundi, for example, which had its own civil war in the 1990s and 2000s. All ethnic groups in Burundi are represented in a unified army now, so the army made up of people from the two sides that fought each other in the civil war. Angela is working to incorporate some of the training techniques that she’s observed at STAR and is using storytelling and circles to help training participants talk about their traumas. She is especially trying to listen better and be more empathic.
“STAR is one big lesson in empathy. It helps you be more empathetic. We need a lot more of that if we’re to be working as peacebuilders. As you get older you get a little wiser. Each STAR training is like having a light click on—waking you up to things you hadn’t realized before. That everybody is like everybody else. And they tell a story and it triggers some empathy.”
Envisioning the future
Angela is intentional about her current and future work: “After retiring, I’m trying to do only things that I’m passionate about. I intend to be more involved with STAR and want to be qualified to teach STAR. In the meantime I’m trying to incorporate some techniques into life and professional growth.”
Angela believes that everyone should have to take STAR: “You go into the class thinking you’re going to learn how to deal with people who are hurt, but then you realize you are hurt and therefore we are all the same.” That’s why she laughingly calls the program “Stealth STAR.”
Angela’s hope is that she can help bring trauma awareness and other peacebuilding concepts to her former Foreign Service colleagues. In particular, she would like to train interagency teams deploying together to serve in U.S. embassies. Though she already holds two master’s degrees, she is preparing herself to help provide this education by pursuing further education in peacebuilding and trauma.
“I’m at that time in life that I feel that I have a bit of experience to share with people. Since I’ve lived abroad a lot, I can help communicate between Americans and foreigners and can interpret them to each other and vice versa. I’ve always enjoyed mentoring younger people and helping them learn. Being a trainer is a natural fit for me. I have been inspired and gotten so excited because this is what I think I can do.”
Daria Nashat grew up in West Berlin and notes that being confronted by the Cold War on a daily basis had a great impact on her. “I was there,” she says, “when the Berlin Wall came down on November 9, 1989. It was almost overwhelming to see the emotions of all these people: they were crying and laughing; dancing and singing; and strangers were embracing each other in the streets. It was a truly amazing experience and it strongly influenced my interest in world affairs and politics.” She adds that being German and living with the legacy of WWII and the Holocaust also had an effect: “In the end, it’s all personal. It’s part of my heritage.”
Daria wrote her master’s thesis on civil-military relations in Kosovo and Bosnia-Herzegovina. During that time she had opportunity to travel in the Balkans and interview people. She then started working for the Stability Pact for South Eastern Europe dealing with regional refugee return in the former Yugoslavia and spent much of her time in the region.
Daria explains that these experiences in combination with her youth in Berlin led her to be very interested in understanding conflict and violence and its impact at all level—national, community, and individual. STAR has helped provide a new perspective on understanding conflict, post-conflict recovery and the risks of reoccurrence of violence if previous harms are not addressed.
“I wish I’d had STAR when I was working on regional refugee return in the former Yugoslavia. Looking back, I feel that trauma awareness was a missing link to better understand the complexities of post-conflict environments.” She observes that post-conflict reconstruction often focuses on repairing physical destruction but pays less attention to the emotional and social costs that violent conflict causes. As a peacebuilder, Daria believes that trauma-sensitive approaches need to be integrated into development and peacebuilding work: “How can we build peace if we don’t understand the role unhealed trauma plays in the continuation of violence?”
Daria notes that STAR has given her a unique lens through which to see things. “In addition to the great analytical insights and tools, I love STAR because of its practical approach. It’s applicable in everyone’s daily life. It’s about integrating who I am with what I do.”
Envisioning the Future
“Discovering STAR has been a fantastic journey and it has inspired me to start educating about and training for trauma-informed peacebuilding.”
Daria has worked with NGOs, governments, and international organizations in Europe and the United States. After learning about STAR during an event at the U.S. Institute of Peace, she took STAR I and II and the Journey Home from War. Using her professional networks in Europe, she introduced STAR to the German Institute for International Peace Missions: “I’m thrilled that the first STAR I training for German civilians working in international missions took place in Berlin in December and I hope that many more will follow.”
She now works as an independent trainer and consultant on resilience; stress management and self-care for peacebuilding professionals. She notes, “Self-care is really important. We’re working in environments that can be very tough and we’re hearing all these painful stories. It is normal to be affected – and it’s important to realize that we will be. Unless we take good care of ourselves, we won’t be able to serve others in a professional, respectful manner. I love the saying: ‘Compassion that does not include yourself is incomplete’.”
She appreciates that STAR raises awareness about the “cost of caring,” such as compassion fatigue and secondary trauma, but also provides practical self-help tools for building resilience.
Daria’s hope for the future is that more people will understand cycles of violence in order to deal with the chronic violence that impacts many of us on a daily basis. She believes STAR offers a great framework and practical tool to breaking these cycles. “Whether it’s in our families, local communities or international war zones, STAR is much needed for more peace and healing.”
Elizabeth writes that her involvement in the STAR program is the continuation of a 25-year journey, beginning with her Ph.D work in the early 1990s. “My professional research, teaching and fieldwork is rooted in diverse experiences of trauma—from war, to natural disasters, to forced migration, to racism and gender-based violence. Level I convinced me that STAR offers a field-tested, practitioner-driven program that produces real results—for individuals and communities. I want to be a STAR practitioner because, of all the trainings I’ve experienced, STAR resonates most strongly with my pedagogical practices in experiential learning, my passionate commitment to diverse training audiences, and my conviction that we can only assist others when we work to better understand ourselves.”
Elizabeth’s Ph.D is in German cultural studies with a concentration on war and post-war trauma. Her dissertation and subsequent research/teaching focused on the impact of WWII and the Holocaust on soldiers, families and communities over successive generations. She also holds an M.A. in applied anthropology with two major focal areas: peace and conflict studies, and gender and development. Her academic career also included teaching, research and fieldwork in peacebuilding, forced migration, social justice, and human rights.
Elizabeth’s academic preparation and professional experience provide a rich background for her interest in integrating STAR concepts of trauma, cycles of violence, and resilience into her daily work with army personnel. Elizabeth has worked closely with local military veterans experiencing combat-related trauma. She currently works with U.S. Special Operations as a pre-deployment trainer. Her job is to help soldiers better understand their operational environments, reduce the negative impact of culture shock, create healthier interactions with local populations, and develop self-care strategies to mitigate combat stress and reintegration roadblocks upon their return. She recently partnered with army personnel to develop new training curriculum in critical thinking, adaptability and leadership. She also works closely with soldier outreach organizations to improve access for returning service members, specifically in the areas of behavioral health, education, and reintegration.
“I never saw myself as someone who would work with the military. I did not grow up in a military family and have always questioned the use of violence as a response to injustice.” The day after 9/11, Elizabeth was teaching a humanities course that started with the Enlightenment and ended with the Holocaust, a sobering message that she calls “from rationality and hope to hatred and genocide.” She remembers that on September 12, 2001 she lead a discussion about the U.S. response as a nation. Elizabeth asked, would we take time to mourn this enormous tragedy, or would we immediately seek revenge? She says, “Little did I know that, eight years later, I would embark on a path of my own personal soul-searching. As I worked more and more closely with soldiers and veterans, I felt God calling me to make a commitment that I had never imagined—to work fulltime, everyday alongside military personnel and their families. I often tell people that, for me, going to work is a rite of passage. Each day I pass through a checkpoint. And each day I feel two things: enormously honored to be among our warfighters; and enormously sad they are preparing for war.”
Envisioning the future….
“I am incredibly excited and inspired by bringing STAR to the military. I read an article several months ago by a Special Forces medical officer. He describes his confusion and incredulity as a U.S. Army doctor in Iraq on a mission to provide free medical care to Iraqi civilians. Much to his surprise and frustration, many local citizens were wary and seemingly unappreciative. He soon realized that their fear and suspicion were rooted in trauma. Not only from the current war, but from decades of dictatorship and deprivation. For me, Dr. Anderson’s story powerfully encapsulates the need for STAR in military communities. It is not enough to build resilience against trauma within our own soldiers. That is important work, essential work. We must also educate soldiers—indeed all those who work in conflict zones—to recognize trauma in the populations they serve, and seek to protect. This simple, yet foundational, insight is why STAR should be brought to our military.”
Elizabeth is working to increase her awareness of compassion fatigue and also the unique needs of military spouses and children. She is intentional about including personal self-care strategies (yoga, meditation, spiritual readings) into her routine. Elizabeth continues her outreach to family members, friends, and colleagues affected by trauma. She is exploring new ways to serve the Fort Bragg area through “whole of community” projects, including the creative arts. Elizabeth is also investigating the possibility of STAR training for local first responders, as well as along the U.S.-Mexico border. “It’s funny how STAR just blossoms like a flower once you nurture it and provide plenty of sunshine. Elaine and others are right: everyone, everywhere needs it!”
Gloria Rhodes is associate professor and department chair of the Applied Social Sciences Department and coordinator for the Peacebuilding and Development undergraduate major at Eastern Mennonite University. She teaches both undergraduate and graduate courses as well as STAR workshops.
Danny Malec’s journey with peacebuilding began in 1999, when he left his work as a management consultant and followed his heart to Nicaragua, where he served with Jesuit Volunteers International. In Nicaragua, Danny spent three years working with youth in gangs or struggling with addiction, work that inspired him to apply to the master’s program at the Center for Justice and Peacebuilding, where he also took STAR Level I. Danny finished his master’s degree in 2005 and completed STAR Level II in 2010.
Danny spent four years working at the Latin American Youth Center (LAYC) in Washington, D.C. He started as a program administrator, overseeing LAYC’s two group foster homes; he also directed LAYC’s community peacebuilding team, which works at violence prevention and restorative justice programming. Danny spent his last year at the center as the program director of Health Promotion.
In August 2012, Danny accepted a position as the social and restorative justice coordinator at E.L. Haynes Public Charter School in the northwest section of Washington, where his main responsibilities were to build positive school culture, prevent bullying and violence, and to facilitate restorative processes. After just a year, Danny took on a new title: Assistant Principal of Restorative Practices. E.L. Haynes’ mission that every student reaches the college of their choice, and Danny’s role is to balance accountability for behavior with encouraging students to integrate into school life in healthy ways and receive the support they need to be successful at school. He works with the student wellness team to foster trauma-informed and therapeutic responses to wrongdoing, and his office is even located in a space called the “Problem-Solving Center,” which students know as a safe space to come and receive support to work through a problem—or when classroom behavior is causing harm. Danny also manages various restorative practices within the school, such as circle processes and “refocus,” a process to repair less serious harm that involves student, advisor and parent. He oversees a program known as “Positive Behavior Interventions and Supports,” which is proactive, setting and teaching clear expectations, rewarding those who follow them and providing interventions and supports to those who don’t meet school expectations.
E.L. Haynes, where Danny works, has a student body that is approximately 70 percent African American, 30 percent Latino, and less than one percent Asian and white. Nearly 75 percent of students come to the high school at least two grade levels behind in both English and math. Many of the students come with significant trauma, as well: They live in communities affected by high levels of violence and the majority of students have experienced that violence firsthand. E.L. Haynes students are also impacted by high rates of poverty—65 percent quality for free or reduced lunches—which comes with its own traumas.
But E.L. Haynes is committed to helping students succeed through holistic approaches. It’s the first school in Washington, D.C. to take up restorative practices as a school-wide approach to behavior and discipline.
Danny says his time at CJP prepared him well for his current work, which requires a thoughtful, reflective and authentic approach. “Always seeking,” says Danny, “the voice and input of the youth that we are trying to serve every step of the way.”
For Danny, STAR and its models help on a daily basis—both with working with students and training adults who work with the youth.
“Being able to understand the effects of trauma on the brain and body and then to help others understand those effects has been a great asset to our work,” says Danny.
Danny and his colleagues are working on ways to grow restorative approaches within the school. This spring, he and the high school lead social worker are planning to invite 20 of their highest risk students who’ve identified experiences of trauma to participate in a class that will deal with social skills, trauma and resilience. The curriculum will pull heavily from Youth STAR, and they’re hoping to offer the course for years to come.
Danny Malec holds a bachelors’ degree in industrial engineering from the Georgia Institute of Technology and MA in conflict transformation from the Center for Justice and Peacebuilding. He resides in Washington, D.C., with his wife and two children.
In the past several years, evaluations of two programs developed from STAR in Haiti and Somalia have shown how concepts and processes presented in STAR have been adapted culturally, programmatically and linguistically, to address trauma and build resilience at the grassroots level in very different social contexts. However, even though these programs were implemented at the local level, the vision in each case was to have a regional or national impact. You might wonder if this is possible. How can STAR-inspired programs working at the grassroots level influence regional or national reconciliation and reconstruction efforts?
STAR emphasizes a multidisciplinary, multicultural and multi-faith framework. It also stresses that development work, humanitarian emergency responses and peacebuilding should be trauma-informed because many of the actions and processes they use can help address trauma and build resilience as well, if this is taken into account explicitly in their program implementation.
STAR highlights this in the “healing path” portion of the snail model, where resources from different fields are presented for addressing trauma, breaking the cycles of violence it so often generates or exacerbates, and building individual and collective resilience.
Wozo, the Haiti project, was funded by the same six denominations that helped found STAR after the events of September 11, 2001. Quraca Nabadda, in Somalia, was funded by USAID. Both of the implementing agencies adopted, translated, and adapted Village STAR as the basis for their work with individuals and groups at the grassroots level. However, the implementation was quite different.
The 2010 earthquake in Haiti created individual and collective trauma across the country. It also laid bare many other traumas: Abuse. Attachment issues. or Structural injustices that may have been less visible before the earthquake. Responding to the earthquake, Wozo prepared trainers to build awareness of trauma and resilience across the country. It relied heavily—but not exclusively—on congregations, as well as development and reconstruction programs of the six sponsoring denominations. Those trained by Wozo in turn led trainings throughout Haiti. People expressed appreciation for the life-changing experience Wozo provided by helping to create awareness of how trauma affects everyone as humans. It normalized their experiences.
Wozo didn’t limit its work to trainings on awareness, though. It helped create Wozo clubs that served as a gathering space to help individuals and groups respond to the trauma and harms they had experienced. Participants shared their stories., but they also explored community issues and possible responses.
We know that the ability to identify, analyze and address community harms and issues enhances community resilience and the ability to respond and create structures to engage current or future problems. It creates social capital. According to the evaluation report, Wozo’s work took on elements of a social movement and almost a life of its own, spreading throughout the country. It showed the program’s effectiveness in meeting needs and providing ways for groups and communities to empower themselves to address, to one degree or another, the trauma produced by the earthquake, as well as the historical harms from the legacy of colonialism and slavery, and traumas related to persistent poverty.
Nearly a world away and at about the same time, the Quraca Nabadda program in Somalia began, like Wozo in Haiti, to provide trauma awareness and resilience trainings at the village level, using adaptations of Village STAR. The program gathered women from villages to meet and share their stories about the trauma and harms they and their community had experienced. Trained facilitators used a colorful set of painted cards that depicted various situations and were strategically placed on a snail model made out of rope. This large snail model showed different kinds of trauma, the cycles of violence and breaking free on the healing path—where a number of the various actions and processes for addressing trauma were listed. Their methodology was successful: Participants said one of the most liberating aspects of the program was that it also normalized their emotional and physiological responses to trauma. They were reassured that nothing was wrong with them.
Strengthened by this awareness, participants began to engage their “other.” They arranged meetings and negotiations with parties with whom they had been or were engaged in violent conflict. Trauma awareness, including the cycles of violence, had empowered them to use tools and processes introduced by STAR to encounter the other—listening to their story, and applying appropriately adapted aspects of conflict transformation, restorative justice and joint development project implementation. The project was so successful at the community level that leaders are now working to adapt the program on a national level, as a part of the reconciliation process in Somalia.
Is this possible? Will it work? Only time will tell if a vision like this can be achieved. But we do know that in addition to addressing the trauma and harm experienced by individuals and communities, Quraca Nabadda created opportunities for communities to develop greater resilience or, more specifically, the social capital needed to address current and future conflicts. In this case, the networks formed, knowledge gained, relationships repaired, and the awareness of processes to address trauma all contributed to improving the capacity of communities to respond to harms and challenges. When individuals and communities at the grassroots are able to respond effectively to trauma, and increase their capacity to engage future threats and challenges, peacebuilding efforts at regional and national levels have a more solid basis for success.
During the recent civil war in Nepal, the staff of a vocational training project reported that the young trainees were displaying behaviors probably related to the stress of the violence: difficulty concentrating, aggression, low self-confidence and the tendency to suddenly burst into tears. Many had difficulty completing the course, and those that did finish had difficulty succeeding in the labor market, which diminished the project’s success.
In a paper on the issue, entitled “The Vicissitudes of Empowerment in Conflict-Afflicted Nepal,” Barbara Weyermann reported that project staff, “didn’t want to ask the trainees about how they or their families were affected by the war because they didn’t know what to do when the young men started to cry.”
The human tendency to avoid difficult topics, at both individual and organizational levels, is hardly unique. Weyermann notes that “in most ‘normal’ development projects, the effect of violence [on beneficiaries] is almost always ignored.”
On the other side of the world, Nicaraguan psychologist Martha Cabrera observed in the late 1990s that no one seemed to be taking note of the subjective, psychological or spiritual needs of her country in the post-conflict, post-Hurricane Mitch era. Development and humanitarian assistance projects abounded. Everyone had been “work-shopped” on various topics, but with few concrete results. Cabrera wondered why.
Using a health survey as a point of entry, Cabrera and her colleagues at the Valdivieso Center traveled to the worst-affected regions with a goal of addressing psychological needs. The depth and breadth of what they discovered staggered them. They found high levels of apathy, isolation, aggressiveness, abuse, chronic somatic illness and low levels of flexibility, tolerance and the ability to trust and work together, and reported their findings in a paper entitled “Living and Surviving In a Multiply Wounded Country.”
Nicaragua, the team realized, “was a multiply wounded, multiply traumatized, multiply mourning country,” and that had “serious implications for people’s health, the resilience of the country’s social fabric, the success of development schemes, and the hope of future generations.” Cabrera noted it is hard to move forward, to build democracy, when the personal and communal history still hurts.
What Weyermann and Cabrera describe are the effects of trauma on the body, brain and behavior of individuals, communities and societies.
In recent years, humanitarian and development organizations have recognized these needs and have increasingly included psychosocial programs when working with populations impacted by natural disasters or violence. Weyermann notes that the support provided by these projects can be vital to victim/survivors, but she points out two drawbacks: the stigma those receiving services often face; and the fact that addressing economic hardship—which can be traumatic in itself—is outside of the mandate of most psychosocial projects.
A way to address these limitations is for organizations to become “trauma-informed” so that a trauma-sensitive framework can be integrated into any project: economic, health, governance and others. This means more than putting a psychologist on every project team. Awareness of the repercussions of trauma needs to extend across the organization, to headquarters and field staff alike.
Being trauma-informed includes:
• Understanding the physiological, emotional, cognitive, behavioral and spiritual impact of traumatic events (current or historic) on recipient populations, and how unaddressed trauma contributes to cycles of violence;
• Going beyond traditional mental health diagnosis and symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder as the measure of trauma impact, and also recognizing community and societal dynamics and behaviors that are indicators of unaddressed trauma;
• Identifying processes from multiple fields—human security (including economic security), conflict transformation, restorative justice, neurobiology, psychology and spirituality—that can address trauma and increase resilience; and
• Recognizing that addressing the psychological needs of populations creates the need to monitor staff for secondary trauma and to equip them with self-care skills and tools.
Trauma-informed organizations can design programs that are trauma sensitive across all stages of the programming cycle: needs assessment, design, implementation, and monitoring and evaluation. Trauma-sensitive programming can improve project outcomes, reduce stigma around trauma, and provide new ways to address difficult issues that contribute to intractable conflict and violence.
Cabrera says the people they worked with were initially startled by the approach. But they thanked them afterwards because it helped them recognize their own resilience, find meaning in what they had lived through, and move forward in life.
Moving forward. That, after all, is part of what development and humanitarian assistance are about.
Strategies for Trauma Awareness & Resilience (STAR) equips organizations to work with trauma-impacted populations. STAR provides consultations and workshops for home and field staff that prepare them to do trauma-sensitive programming. This article originally appeared in the September 2012 issue of Monthly Developments Magazine. Reposted with permission.
This essay represents an excellent follow-up to the fall/winter 2012 issue of Peacebuilder magazine (both print and online), containing articles on the work of Fadi Rabieh and 24 other CJP alumni in the Middle East. In this essay, Rabieh offers a broad view of the steps Israelis and Palestinians must take to achieve peace.
I believe in the goodness of human beings and in our ability to transcend above and beyond our painful history to find ways of coping and healing. Over the past two years there has been growing skepticism about the impact of people-to-people projects, especially among the young generation. It is extremely challenging to find people from both sides who are interested in meeting and listening to one another. People are tired of even talking! The cynics say we have tried negotiation and dialogue for over fifteen years, and it has gotten us nowhere. The other side is not genuine and does not seek peace. Yet these voices do not recognize that we have also tried force and violence for over fifty years, and that, too, has gotten us nowhere.
As Israelis and Palestinians we have been living in a cycle of violence for so long that each side’s sense of victimhood has only become stronger with time. Both sides have constructed a narrative that is rooted in this sense of victimhood and righteousness – a narrative that dehumanizes the other; we are the good people, they are the bad ones, we seek peace, they seek war, we are the victims and only defend ourselves against their aggression, we stand alone and the entire world supports them, etc. Both narratives have been created to bolster our sense of victimhood and righteous cause.
As a result of this sense of victimhood, our brains and senses become selective. We see the world in black or white, right or wrong, with us or against us. We become increasingly judgmental and only speak the language of “facts” and the only “truth.” Interestingly, we only see what confirms our narrative and pre-constructed worldview. Throughout the years of my work in the field of peacebuilding, I have been struck by the level of ignorance and negative images both sides have of one another.
Setting Aside Stereotypes
Palestinians and Israelis from all sectors and spheres must meet each other to change these stereotypes and behavior of prejudice. Teachers must collaborate to create a dual narrative that acknowledges each side’s connection to this land, and to present a more human story of the other to the next generations. Business people must find ways where both nations can build on their capital so that communities might prosper. Journalists and media people must find ways to present constructive stories that help people become hopeful and realize the other side’s dignity. Politicians must work to find creative ways to find a proper political framework and solution that address the needs of all sectors and parties. Religious people must meet to find ways to prevent this conflict from becoming a religious one.
When the two sides come to the table, Israelis come to build a personal relationship with the Palestinians as if the occupation does not exist, and Palestinians come hoping such a meeting will end the conflict and overlook the impact of building a personal relationship. Palestinians fail to understand the collective fear experienced by Jews, and Israeli Jews fail to understand the Palestinians’ sense of loss and pain as a result of the Nakba [“catastrophe” in Arabic]. Both sides seek acknowledgment of their feelings of loss and pain. This is what any dialogue process tries to address. It tries to provide a safe space for the parties to discover the other’s humanity and have their identity needs (i.e. recognition, acknowledgment, and dignity) met.
Interestingly – and this is the good news – individuals and groups that engage in dialogue programs do have a positive shift in their attitudes. However, the bad news is that this shift is not sustained beyond the encounter (or the life of the project). Also, the change does not go beyond the individual to impact on the surrounding. It is naïve to believe that people will have a positive and sustained shift in attitude from one or two encounters. It is very easy to hate, and is even natural in such an intense environment. It is too painful to engage with the enemy and try to unlearn years of hatred and fear in order to trust and listen deeply. If it took people years to learn and experience fear and hate, how many years do we need to replace it with courage and acceptance?
For people-to-people encounters to succeed, they must take place within a political framework or process. The absence of such a process leaves most dialogue encounters sorely handicapped, and they fall short of having a larger impact on both societies. Relationship-building projects must coincide with progress on the political plane; otherwise the positive impact that such encounters may have will regress with the next escalation or increase in violence. Nonetheless, this does not mean we should wait for the resumption of negotiations in order to legitimize people-to-people encounters. People must meet and continue to dialogue. We need to increase the level of exposure Palestinians and Israelis have for each other, especially in light of the separation between the two peoples, and the filtered and biased news.
During the past year Palestinians witnessed an increase in so-called “anti-normalization” voices, which try to pressure and sometimes prevent Palestinians from meeting with Israelis. Despite my understanding of the rationale my fellow Palestinians try to present here (i.e., not to show that we have a normal relationship with Israelis until the occupation ends), I disagree and find it counterproductive. I believe Palestinians have a duty to engage with Israelis to get their message across, and counter a narrative that tries to delegitimize and dehumanize them. I have witnessed people change and maintain this change over a long period of time as a result of their exposure to the other narrative.
The dialogue process begins with finding the “right” candidate and convincing him or her to engage. This in and of itself is a process of dialogue and unlearning! How do you convince people to join such projects? The personal connection is the best strategy. The core of this work is trust-building, and this involves us as workers in the field. Maintaining and expanding our relationships within and across communities – with the presence or absence of actual projects – is very important, so when the time comes people feel confident and ready to start their journey. It is extremely important to maintain our credibility within our communities and embody our values. Furthermore, people think dialogue programs must only take place between people who have not been exposed to those from the other side, or have negative perceptions. This is true to some degree, but some peacebuilding programs must also aim to energize, mobilize, and recruit active people who are willing to work for the dignity of the “other.”
I have come to realize that having a diverse group (which include people with positive experiences and perceptions of the other) is the best way to accelerate the humanization process. By witnessing the differences in opinions and positions among members of the same group, we can create the first fracture in the generalization and stereotyping of the other group (no longer do all the members of your “enemy” group look the same; some of them are actually good)! This fracture is like a seed that the dialogue process aims to plant and water. Also, those same agents help bridge the gap between the two divides because they can communicate with both sides and model the desired attitude.
Anti-normalization or convincing people to engage in dialogue are not the only challenges we face when it comes to people-to-people projects. The biggest challenge is to help people maintain open channels of communication at times of increased violence. When such incidents happen (i.e. Gaza or the Lebanon War) the dialogue process comes to halt and the goal becomes how to prevent what we have built so far from deteriorating. Sometimes one feels as if we are starting over from square one. And even in the absence of escalation in the conflict, maintaining a positive shift and relationship among group members for a long period beyond the project’s duration is a major challenge on its own.
In order to address many of the above-mentioned challenges (anti-normalization, conflict escalation, maintaining relationships and positive attitude shifts), we as peacebuilders – individuals and organizations – must think big and bold.
First, peacebuilding organizations might benefit from creating an umbrella body that could unify this effort to become more effective and efficient. Peacebuilding groups and organizations would largely benefit from having one voice, and a coordinated focused strategy to maximize their impact within their communities. Changing the culture from competition to collaboration and synergy among organizations and groups (i.e., sharing resources, expertise, and data of best practices and participants) is the best way to have long-term programs instead of short-term projects.
Second, peacebuilding organizations must transform their efforts towards a peace movement in both societies. Their efforts must be seen and heard publicly. The more peace organizations work in the shadow, the more they harm themselves. Therefore, the work must make it to the streets of Ramallah, Jerusalem, and Tel Aviv. Becoming vocal, especially at times of escalation, and taking initiative instead of reacting passively is the best strategy – not only to fill a vacuum that is caused by lack of a political process and filled by extremists and anti-normalization voices, but also to increase and regain the public’s confidence.
Here To Stay
Many people – and I am one of them – believe the two-state solution is almost over. However, this propels us to more engagement as two people to find new ways and solutions. We have no choice but to learn how to live and share this land with each other. We know we cannot defeat each other militarily, and that each nation is here to stay.
As peacebuilders we must not shy away from the challenges we face. We fight for the freedom and dignity of every individual and human being, Palestinian and Israeli, for our generation and generations to come.
This is not a matter of choice; it is a matter of destiny.
* * * *
Fadi Rabieh, who earned his master’s degree in conflict transformation as a Fulbrighter at EMU, is co-manager of the Council of Religious Institutions of the Holy Land, working out of the Jerusalem office of Search for Common Ground. He released this essay on Nov. 20, 2012.
Co-authors Thomas Norman DeWolf and Sharon Leslie Morgan
In 2001, I took a life-altering journey. A cousin, Katrina Brown, had made the startling discovery that the DeWolf family was the largest slave-trading family in United States history. Over three generations, they had brought more than 10,000 people to the west to be bought and sold. So I set out with nine distant cousins to follow the trail of our ancestors. We traveled to the family’s home state of Rhode Island, then on to Ghana and Cuba.
As we went, we filmed a documentary which was later nominated for an Emmy award: Traces of the Trade: A Story from the Deep North. On that trip, I began writing my first book, Inheriting the Trade: A Northern Family Confronts Its Legacy as the Largest Slave-Trading Dynasty in U.S. History, published by Beacon Press in 2008.
I learned so many important facts of history that I never knew before, and became viscerally aware of the legacy of slavery and its lingering damage. Standing in a slave dungeon on the rocky shoreline of Ghana where human beings were shipped off, never to return, I felt as close as I ever had been to utter despair.
Yet in spite of my enhanced awareness, when I returned from that international journey I had more questions than answers. I was left with a big dialogue bubble floating over my head that read, “Now what? What can I do about it?”
I can’t imagine what my life would be today without the first Coming to the Table (CTTT) gathering I attended in January 2006. In that program, which started at Eastern Mennonite University, black and white family members met to address the legacies of slavery in the United States. It introduced concepts from neuroscience, trauma healing and storytelling. But the heart of the experience for me was the stories we shared. Participating later in two levels of STAR training and in a week-long EMU Summer Peacebuilding Institute course in restorative justice helped ground me in a powerful set of resources.
All this gave me hope and began to answer the “Now what?” question.
The most significant project to grow from my connection to CTTT and STAR is the book project with co-author Sharon Morgan. We committed ourselves to living the healing model, which is grounded in the concepts of Truth, Mercy, Justice and Peace, and to writing about it.
Over a three-year period, Sharon and I traveled thousands of miles through 27 states and overseas together. A major element of our journey and what we wrote about is sharing experiences and evaluating them from two very different frames of reference. Sharon Morgan is a black woman. I am a white man. She lives on one end of the country. I live on the other. We have interacted with each other’s families and friends and shared many meaningful conversations about ourselves and our views.
With genealogy as an undercurrent, we visited ancestral towns, courthouses, sites of racial terror, cemeteries, and museums seeking to understand the trauma of historic slavery and present–day racism. We attended Civil War reenactments and visited former slave plantations. We slept in antebellum homes.
Along the way, we led a workshop at the John Hope Franklin Center National Symposium on Hope and Healing in Tulsa, Oklahoma entitled “Gather at the Table: A Path toward Reconciliation.” During our book tour, we’ve presented at conferences, museums, high schools, colleges and universities throughout the United States.
What have I learned from the commitment we made to live this healing journey? It’s a surprise to me that I feel more pessimistic than when we began because I recognize more than ever just how deeply embedded systems of oppression remain. Yet there also is reason for hope. Some of Sharon’s and my comments from the last chapter of Gather at the Table say it best:
“The actions of one or two people rarely make a significant difference in the world. But the commitment of many people, acting individually and collectively, has great potential. Hope springs when people take the STAR training: when members of Coming to the Table congregate on a conference call to discuss restorative justice, genealogy, or relationship building, when six women in Seattle create a weekly ‘Healing Together’ workshop, and when a man in Virginia inspires people in his community to explore the history and impact of slavery through Negro spirituals and to raise their voices together in song…
“This is our work: to repair unhealed wounds from the past and challenge systems that remain unjust and either dismantle them or work to heal the damage they continue to cause.
“We would love to say of our experiment, ‘Boy, this is it! This is the lightning bolt. We’ve found the answer.’ But it isn’t that simple or tidy… The lessons are in the quest. The answers are found in the journey. These are ripples on a pond. They spread outward.
“And on we walk…”
Tom was born and raised in California. He and his wife, Lindi, live in Oregon. They have four grown children and eight grandchildren. Sharon grew up in Chicago. She lives in a rural town close enough to New York City to often see her two grandchildren who live there.
For more information about the book, Gather at the Table, visit http://gatheratthetable.net/.
Here in central Virginia, people take great pride in our local heritage. Virginia was home to ten presidents, most notably Jefferson, Madison, and Monroe. But it also has a history of militarization. The late historian and Veteran for Peace, Dr. Howard Zinn, says in his People’s History of the United States that the “Old Dominion” has at times been the most highly-militarized place in the world. The small town where I live, home to Thomas Jefferson and the University of Virginia, is a key part of the military-industrial complex, and many of my neighbors are military intelligence professionals. Whenever I see off-duty military personnel walking the streets of my community, I wonder to myself, “What would the Founding Fathers say if they were around to witness the modern, militarized world that they helped to create?”
Without a doubt, they would be appalled by the size and scope of the American military empire. Jefferson was staunchly against the idea of a standing army. While he believed in the universal responsibility of community service, he also believed that militarism was detrimental to the health of democracy. Jefferson was against the principles of state violence being foisted on peaceable citizenry. He wrote to John Jay in 1788, “The breaking of men to military discipline is the breaking of their spirits to principles of passive obedience.”
I can speak directly to this issue as someone who joined the Army at 17 out of high school. Read more…
Trauma expert, clinical social worker and Ph.D. candidate Sarah Crawford-Browne, from Cape Town, South Africa, describes her own experience of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). She describes the overwork that likely contributed to her state of vulnerability, and how coming up with names for what she was experiencing helped her recover. As told to Carolyn Yoder.
One day, I witnessed a double murder/assassination whilst looking out my living room window. I had just spent five years working with trauma in Sierra Leone, Pakistan, Afghanistan, Uganda and Sudan. Now I was head of service at a trauma center in Cape Town.
The center runs a 24-hour response service to crises in the city, so when I saw the murders, I grabbed my neon-colored response jacket and my response backpack and went down to help. I was involved the full night. Due to the demands of my resource-challenged center, I went right on to work the next day without sleeping.
That same month, I had already responded to two other major incidents—a crisis where an engine had fallen off a passenger plane, scaring the passengers, and a large factory fire which had led to the death of a fireman.
Three days later I woke up at about 1 a.m. completely confused. My mind swirled in a series of primitive emotions. Nothing was making much sense. The emotions were not linked to language and I could not access words. Eventually at about 5 a.m., I thought, “I am going mad.” Read more…
Although my day job is working as a neuropsychologist at the Minnesota Epilepsy Group and as a forensic psychologist for the Wisconsin Forensic Unit, my passion is sharing STAR. I took STAR levels I and II in Oct. 2008 and March 2009. Since then, I have been developing, promoting and implementing the STAR I training in Minnesota so that caregivers, leaders and organizations in this part of the country can have the opportunity to learn STAR principles, concepts and models. In particular, I want Minnesotans with limited financial resources to have access to this training and its potential for transformation. I want STAR trainings in our community for caregivers and leaders, but I also want to see STAR in jails and prisons so that defendants have the opportunity to learn how to move out of the cycles of violence and toward reconciliation and healing.
To a large extent my passion for STAR has grown from my legal forensic evaluations. I hear tragic stories of defendants who have shattered the lives of others, but who also have their own histories of personal trauma from childhood, adolescence and into adulthood. I hear stories about the cycles of violence all the time. In these evaluations, I have little opportunity to share about the possibilities STAR has to offer. This is one of the primary reasons I am passionate about making STAR available to all.
A major focus of my STAR work in Minneapolis has been to raise scholarship funds so any educator, caregiver, professional, paraprofessional, volunteer or community leader who serves vulnerable populations has access to STAR.
I believe the STAR concepts apply to everyday traumas as well as major traumas and that the peacebuilding strategies offer alternatives to violent revenge responses. People will always have aggression, injustice and violent options. Our culture teaches them overtly and covertly. But most people are hungry for alternative strategies to responding to aggression, violence and injustice that really work. STAR offers the perspective that there are other options. STAR is also primary prevention for anyone doing peacekeeping, peacemaking and/or peacebuilding work. If you are doing this work, you are working with trauma. These workers need to know how to maximize their potential for self-care and resilience that helps minimize burn out and compassion fatigue.
The first STAR training held in Minneapolis in June 2010 included a rich diversity of 25 participants representing a variety of religious traditions from the Somali, Native American, Asian, Caucasian, African-American and LGBT communities. After that, I was inspired and encouraged to organize additional STAR workshops here. STAR trainings were held in June and September of 2011, and June 2012. We have two others planned for September and October 2012. I founded the Minnesota Peacebuilding Leadership Institute as the administrative organization that raises scholarship funds and hosts STAR trainings in Minnesota.
I have accomplished this by working with STAR EMU in the certified training program and with the guidance and support of a 15-member community-based advisory committee. We received funding from Spread the Peace grant from Mennonite Church USA, for STAR’s development. Scholarship contributions come from individual donors, churches and a family foundation. My flexible work schedule allows me to pursue this passion to share STAR.
I have a vision of multiple STAR I workshops to be held in Minneapolis over the next five years and to develop the Minnesota Peacebuilding Leadership Institute as a program site for STAR in Minnesota. In the future, the Minnesota Peacebuilding Institute will also sponsor training resources in trauma awareness, restorative justice, nonviolent peacemaking and conflict transformation, and apply these concepts and principles to special populations such as combat vets, groups with historical harm, immigrants and refugees, LGBT homeless youth and those affected by bullying.
Donna Minter, Ph.D., L.P., has practiced neuropsychology and forensic psychology for over 15 years in Minnesota and Wisconsin. She and her husband Bruce Brunner enjoy riding recumbent bikes on the many wonderful bike trails in Minneapolis and she hikes in the woods whenever possible. She is an active member of Faith Mennonite Church in Minneapolis.
Interested in starting STAR in your community? Contact firstname.lastname@example.org and get in touch with Donna at 612-377-4660 or STAR.Mpls@gmail.com to hear more about how to get started.
I was born in Jajce, which is in Bosnia and Herzegovina. I lived there until the city went under siege in 1992 when I fled as a refugee and lived in another region until the end of the war in 1996.
A year later, I came to study at Eastern Mennonite University’s Center for Justice and Peacebuilding (CJP) where I graduated in 2002 with a degree in conflict transformation. My husband, Randy Puljek-Shank, is also a CJP graduate. We now serve as representatives for East Europe for Mennonite Central Committee (MCC), the relief and development organization of North American Mennonites. In our role with MCC, we work almost exclusively through local partners doing peacebuilding and community development.
Post-conflict life and trauma
I think attention to trauma healing and resilience is a necessary aspect of life here in the Balkans. Trauma has become a household word. There are many different forms of trauma that I observe within the individuals, community and society in which I live and work. There are no wars at present. But we experienced four wars[i] in the former Yugoslavia, between 1991 and 2000, each with different traumatic events. There were concentration camps and massacres. Many people were refugees. Some lived under siege for years, including the four-year siege of Sarajevo. People risked being shot by snipers every time they went out to shop or to go to work. Now there are civilians in our society with post-traumatic stress and reactions, including veterans.
There were other conditions that created continuous, ongoing high stress and trauma. For example, during the war nearly everyone was equal. Everyone was affected by the war and everyone qualified to get aid. When the war ended, “normal” life returned and people no longer had equal opportunities. The country’s infrastructure was in shambles. There were not enough jobs so the unemployment levels were high.
So a different kind of fight for survival started. The trauma of survival shifted from running away from guns during the war to the present situation of not having enough money to feed the family and send children to school.
Some people left the country, some people were lucky enough to get jobs, some people received financial help from the state to rebuild their houses or apartments, and some people did not get any kind of support at all.
Another part of the ongoing, complex trauma is what I call the political rape in our society. In the former Yugoslavia, with the exception of Slovenia, we live under the constant threat of potential armed conflict. This or that group wants to separate from this or that country. We justify the crimes committed in the region in the name of defense and out of fear. The politicians use this reality to get elected, stay in power and keep fear present, which increases mistrust and the inability to live together.
Through it all, I see the trans-generational transfer of trauma. My generation grew up hearing the stories of the horror World War II and elements of these stories have been played in front of our eyes in these last wars in former Yugoslavia. As a society we have successfully given a new generation our reservoirs of trauma and told them to carry it.
Healing and resilience
Following the war, the Balkans was in the midst of a humanitarian crisis. Immediate needs had to be met first through relief and rebuilding, then by a focus on development. In 2002 when Randy and I arrived back in the region, we tried introducing our partner organizations to trauma work. We translated parts of the STAR manual and adapted it to the local context. We did some basic trauma education, explaining what trauma is and exploring together how it impacts individuals and communities. We offered tools for individuals to develop their inner strength and resilience. There wasn’t a lot of interest.
It took five years until we began seeing more openness to trauma healing processes. We found relationship building as a way to open the door and develop trust, safety, and security to those we work with.
Currently, one of our partner organizations works with veterans from Bosnia, Serbia and Croatia. They offer a basic training where the veterans come from different sides of the conflict. During these week-long trainings they share about their experiences with war. It is very intense but it offers a space to listen, empathize and break down prejudices. The organization stays in touch with these veterans and gives them the opportunity to be involved in peacebuilding activities such as developing videos about the consequences of war, visiting each other’s front lines, and seeing each other’s memorials. A small number of veterans have become interested in being involved in the peacebuilding work. This might seem like a very small achievement but it is an important step in the trauma healing process for individuals and the community.
I believe we need to continue to find ways to allow ourselves to feel pain and grief. We can’t allow the constant fighting or post-traumatic stress to take our humanity away from us. Trauma healing can provide a safe place for crying, feeling the pain and reflecting on what happened as we learn to regain our humanity. Building positive social networks helps develop our communal resilience, to work together to overcome the obstacles that are present in daily life.
The longer we are here, the more we understand the significance of trauma education in the Balkans. We continue to take parts of STAR and adjust and adapt it for different aspects of our work. STAR is a cutting-edge approach to trauma across the world. It covers not only how you deal with on a psychological level but how it affects your entire being including physical, mental, emotional and spiritual.
Trauma healing gives hope as we change our focus to developing resilience in our society. This is why trauma is not only a curse, but a gift.
Amela Puljek-Shank lives in Sarajevo with her husband and son. She has worked as a facilitator and trainer with Seeds of Peace and with the STAR Project (Seminar on Trauma and Awareness and Recovery) for religious leaders at EMU.
[i] War in Slovenia 1991, in Croatia 1991-1995,in Bosnia and Herzegovina 1992-1995; and in Kosova 1999-2000).