In the midst of war tragedies, children like Elaf from Gaza are forced to grow up too soon alongside death and destruction. Over the battlefields of Gaza, Sudan, Lebanon, and Kashmir, the devastating psychological effects on the minds of victims—especially in women and children—are reflected in the form of mental disorders like PTSD, anxiety, and depression. However, against all odds, there lies a story of resilience within. Like Areej Al-Qadi in Gaza – losing her three sons left her resorting to whatever little faith she had left. Others remind us that even in the darkest of nights, the human spirit does not quit.
“I am scared of the night. The night is long. The sounds of the bomb…”, says 9-year-old Elaf in Deir Al Balah, Gaza, hours before her next-door house is bombed. You hear such words echoing from the lips of every child of war out there who has seen more battlefields than playgrounds, more days of fear than days of safety, more dead bodies than the olives of their gardens, while bearing the brunt of human immorality and brutality, the strings of which are in hands beyond their comprehension. You find these children in corners, under rubble, in hospitals, or everywhere else in bushed conditions instead of schools, because there are none left. Such is the absurd reality of the world where religious and ethnic divides being weaponised can deprive and demonize a certain group as ‘children of darkness’, considered suitable for the verdict of torture and death, while others are referred to as the ‘children of light’. The reality is that the human race has atrociously deemed it fair to murder ruthlessly and render generations hapless.
Bisan Owda, a Palestinian journalist and activist, on her Instagram account on October 7, marking a year of the ongoing genocide in Gaza, posted, “I survived a year of genocide, I have changed, and old Bisan is gone forever, I left her in the garden in the north of Gaza Strip.” Bisan has been among the most active journalists providing on-ground reports about the conditions of Palestinian refugees. In the moments of her reporting, she has come across a staggering amount of deaths, including the unfortunate deaths of her dear colleagues and acquaintances. Nahed, another journalist reporting from Deir Al Balah, said, “I would never wish what I feel in my heart and the hearts of everyone in Gaza onto any human in the world.” These statements are the truth of countless Palestinians trapped in a visibly dystopian televised genocide in Gaza, making a questionable history in real time. The mental health report of the impact of the war released earlier this year by the Gaza Community Mental Health Programme (GCMHP) gives a detailed account of the mental pain, loss, anger, and fear experienced by 2.2 million Gazans. It reports high levels of feelings of helplessness, despair, and complex trauma symptoms, including social isolation, among adults who are disconnected from their feelings and have lost their ability to express themselves.
This psychological misery is a common affliction of the population of countless conflict zones across the globe. In Sudan, multiple humanitarian and economic crises, including a 22-year civil war and the Darfur genocide in 2003, have resulted in over two million casualties, food shortages, starvation, and internal displacement. More than 10 million children have been in the active warzones over the past year of war. As a result, a series of distressing psychological symptoms have been seen in the children affected by the war, including bed-wetting, nightmares, constant shaking, and an increased attachment with the primary caregiver. These symptoms reflect the deep-seated trauma that children endure, which hinders their development and results in various behavioral and psycho-emotional distresses. In addition to children, women appear as the second most vulnerable group, facing severe mental health challenges. According to a recent report by AJ+ (Al Jazeera Plus), Sudanese women are being sexually exploited by Rapid Support Forces (RSF) back home, and those in refugee camps are forced into sex in exchange for aid, work and jobs, even by aid workers. Hence, a rampant increase in the number of psychosexual trauma victims of the war is witnessed, for whom even a sigh of relief is getting rare to find.
Similarly, in Lebanon, a region historically torn by armed conflict, thousands of children, adults, and families are killed, injured, or displaced because of the recent attack by Israel. Like Gaza, the region has been a constant target of bombardments, condemning generations all together to utter misfortune and agony. According to the UN, the humanitarian situation in Lebanon has reached levels that exceed severity and is even worse than during the 2006 war. The current situation in Lebanon has caused high rates of mental health illnesses, with one in four people suffering from at least one mental disorder. The mental health professionals in Lebanon have highlighted the sharp rise in demand for support. Abeer Jammoul, who supervises the Embrace-run National Lifeline for suicide prevention and emotional support, highlighted that since the pager attack on 17 September, the hotline receives no less than 35–40 calls daily, with the nature of calls also changing and being more related to war and displacement.
Like the people in Gaza, Sudan, and Lebanon, Indian-administered Kashmir faces similar horrors. After the abrogation of Article 370, Kashmir has witnessed a debilitating economy owing to unfavourable developmental policies. Despite trying to keep their normal sufficiency and the outer-valley belief of movement towards harmony and headway, people live under the strain of unemployment, constant fear of being arrested or being beaten up by the police, or more recently, being injured or succumbing to death in a random blast or terrorist attack. The years of unending struggle have caused serious harm to the psychological well-being of the people of Kashmir and resulted in a mental distress epidemic. According to a report by the National Crime Records Bureau of India, published in December 2023, Kashmir has witnessed the highest number of reported cases of attempted suicide in 2022. Almost 1.8 million people, making up 45% of the population of Kashmir Valley, exhibit signs of severe mental health problems, with 41% of the population suffering from depression and 26% showing signs of probable anxiety. Medications Sans Frontiers (MSF), a non-government organization, affirms that one out of five adults in Kashmir is living with post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Furthermore, Kashmir has also witnessed a surge in drug addiction since 2018. Dr. Yasir, psychiatrist at the Institute of Mental Health and Neuroscience, said in a report, “In Kashmir, drowning and drug overdose are the usual methods of attempted suicide. Both lead to a situation where intervention is almost impossible.”
In all of the above-mentioned cases, one finds a common trend of mental disorders such as PTSD, depression, and anxiety disorders, which shows that the influence of armed conflict is unavoidable. With women, children, and elders being the most vulnerable groups, wars have a disastrous impact, resulting in inevitable social problems, physical deterioration, mass psychological depression, feelings of powerlessness, and decreased self-confidence.
So, how do these people find hope amidst turmoil? The answer is not simple. In regions categorized under conflict zones, there exist two kinds of people. One, with undying hope, relentless faith, and the power to find comfort in their sorrow, which acts as their beacon of hope. A beautiful example of such resilience is of Areej Al-Qadi, who on World Children’s Day lost her three sons in central Gaza after an Israeli bombardment. Her eyes swollen with grief; the only thing she kept repeating was, “Oh God, praise be to you until you are pleased. Praise be to God for this affliction. Praise be to God! Praise be to God!” Even in places like Kashmir, the presence of locals in various places of worship and shrines is a commonplace occurrence. Such places are not mere buildings but refuges where their sorrows find corners of solace and healing. The American Psychological Association emphasizes the fact that people often “do turn to their faith as a source of comfort and support in their most stressful moments. In fact, some groups, such as the elderly and minority groups, may be more likely to look to their faith for help than to family, friends, and the health care system.”
However, at the other extremity lie the people who have lost all hope and are left waiting for a miracle. The common notion that they hold is that the world has abandoned them and no one cares about their plight. “People are now losing faith and hope. Everyone is just hysterical,” said Kheir from Sudan’s second biggest city, Wad Madani, which hosts the largest number of displaced people in Sudan. Malek and Mouz Abu, like innumerable children of war, suffering from several diseases and severe malnutrition, question the world, saying, “What’s our fault? At any moment our condition could worsen, and my brother and I could die or fall into a coma. What did we do wrong that we can’t live like other kids play, grow up, and live a normal life?” In areas like Kashmir, people have even stopped talking about their worries and grief. In a recent documentation by Samdish Bhatia, after being asked to comment on the future of Kashmir, Sohail, a local, says, “The future of Kashmir is dull. There is nothing here. How many guys have you seen on the street since morning? 10 to 15? They are sitting…jobless. You can understand yourself. It is common sense. We can’t even talk that much. Then we’ll have problems.”
This is the ugly picture of the world, difficult and uncomfortable for people to witness or read about. Yet, if people are not kept on the edge, not made to feel the discomfort through the virtue of truth, who will tell the Gazans or the Sudanese or the Lebanese or the Syrians or Kashmiris that the world sees their plight, their pain, and the affliction they are going through? Who will ensure them that the unimaginable hardships they endure are acknowledged and not forgotten?
Sharmeen Shah is a student pursuing Psychology from Jamia Millia Islamia.
Edited By: Sidra Aman
Disclaimer: The opinions expressed in this publication are those of the author. They do not purport to reflect the opinions or views of The Jamia Review or its members.
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