The Unseen Scars of our Future

In 2008, amidst the deafening clangor of tanks and sporadic cries of civilians, my family and I were tasked with fleeing our home less than 35 miles away from active Russian troops—a relatable experience for the Georgians of my generation. Last year, I also got the chance to meet children living in Tserovani, a village of refugees from the occupied region of South Ossetia. These children have only heard of distant stories of their parents’ hometowns and relatives, pensively wondering if they could ever reunite with them. For instance, Mariam Balkhamishvili’s family always recounts one story: “My aunt was 13 years old when the war began. Before leaving, she and her peers were hanging up the Georgian flag in front of their school when suddenly, a sniper shot her. They couldn't save her.” 

Mariam’s family reflects the reality of thousands of other refugees around the world.  

Generational trauma poses a serious setback for the children of refugees, imperiling the way they perceive their role in society. Nonetheless, after helping immigrants escape the physical remnants of a warzone, aiding refugees in overcoming emotional impairments persists as an overlooked issue. As countless conflicts fester in our modern world, understanding the effects of trauma on the individuals who uphold the responsibility of shaping our future world serves as not only a psychological responsibility but a moral one.

Mental health analyses are the first step to understanding and comparing the large-scale destructive effects of a war on a generation of individuals. Still, surveys and evaluations merely dilute the tender and intricate experience of war survivors, with most tests being developed and catered to a Western audience. PTSD is not just a quantifiable number; it’s a chronic wound, a sense of brokenness, and the feelings of being worn out like a “tattered cloth,” as described by Palestinian refugees. Hence, closely examining how their children experience the external world and constantly crave a sense of belonging can act as a gateway for understanding the consequential impacts of global conflict on a larger scale. 

In fact, although refugees arrive with few resources, they contribute immensely to the American economy: After analyzing 1.1 million refugees who arrived in America from 1987 to 2016, the Center for Migration Studies of New York revealed the immigrant employment rates have surpassed those of the total U.S. population, and these immigrants also had median personal incomes comparable to non-refugees. These individuals shape our economy and exert great effort to integrate into a culture vastly different from their own despite their jarring trauma—when it comes to tackling emotional distress and mitigating feelings of alienation, who is going to act as a paradigm for their children shaping our forthcoming world?

Moreover, the transmission of generational trauma is not just a social or behavioral phenomenon—scientists can observe it under the microscope. Epigenetic modifications—the change in genetic activity without changing the DNA sequence—can be maintained in cells as they divide and are passed down through generations. Countless studies have revealed that the children of Holocaust survivors had modifications in a gene responsible for regulating cortisol, the primary stress hormone; the same effects can be found in the children of mothers who were first-hand witnesses of 9/11. 

So, what can we do? In our collective pursuit of a promising future, we must advocate for more comprehensive mental health initiatives, appropriate support systems, and dedicated research for new immigrants to alleviate the destructive impacts of war. It is time to shift our focus in aiding immigrants from mere physical resettlement to fostering emotional and psychological healing. By doing so, we not only aid in mending the wounds of the past but also empower a generation that, despite staggering adversity, holds the key to shaping a more compassionate and understanding world.