The Dire Psychological Impact of Russia's Invasion of Ukraine
Many Ukrainians face a future of lasting psychological wounds.
Ukrainian forces' disproportionate lack of protection and firepower increases the risk of harm, exacerbating mental health consequences.
“Polina came to our bedroom awakened by the sound of explosions. I didn’t know and still don’t know what to tell her. Her eyes today are full of fear and terror; eyes of all of us.”
Alina, a family friend who is a marketer and mother of two children from the Ukrainian capital of Kyiv – now under siege by Russian forces – shared this reflection on her Instagram story. Her daughter Polina is seven years old.
The unprovoked assault by Russian President Vladimir Putin’s army on the sovereign nation of Ukraine has left the world in disbelief. While it is painful to see the direct impact of this war on human lives and livelihoods, this invasion will also produce less-visible psychological wounds that could linger for generations.
I am a psychiatrist with expertise in post-traumatic stress disorder and stress. I research trauma and treat trauma-exposed civilians, refugees, survivors of torture, and first responders and veterans.
Civilians, the Defenseless
Until very recently, Ukrainians lived a normal life. But that changed abruptly when, over the course of a few weeks, they witnessed their country being encircled by Russian troops representing one of the world’s most lethal armies and guided by an unpredictable authoritarian leader.
This fear and uncertainty were followed by direct threats to their lives and loved ones when the full invasion began on February 24. As Ukrainian cities came under attack, civilians saw explosions and death firsthand. They began experiencing immediate disruptions to basic resources like electricity, food, and water, and problems with reliable communication with loved ones.
Ukrainians are also experiencing agonizing feelings of injustice and unfairness as their hard-earned democracy and freedom are unjustifiably threatened, leaving some feeling insufficiently supported by their allies.
There is abundant research that such difficult experiences can lead to severe consequences, including PTSD, depression, and anxiety. PTSD symptoms include terrifying and realistic flashbacks of war scenes, intrusive memories of a trauma, panic, inability to sleep, nightmares, and avoidance of anything that resembles the trauma.
The prevalence of these conditions is higher after human-caused catastrophes than, for example, natural disasters. For example, a third of U.S. civilians exposed to a single mass shooting incident can develop full-blown PTSD.
As of now, over 1 million Ukrainians have fled their homes, cities, and jobs for safety in Poland and other Eastern European countries. A larger number of people have been internally displaced. They have limited resources as refugees and are uncertain about the future – chronic stresses detrimental to mental health.
Research from our group and others shows that PTSD affects one-third to one-half of adult refugees. In one study I led, published in 2019, more than 40 percent of adult Syrian refugees resettling in the United States experienced high anxiety, and nearly half had depression.
Another study in 2019 found a high prevalence of PTSD – 27 percent– and depression – 21 percent – among the 1.5 million internally displaced Ukrainians due to the last invasion by Russia and local rebels in eastern Ukraine in 2014.
Children are especially vulnerable. Imagine the terror that a child faces in a dark basement, watching their parents' faces praying that the next missile will not hit their building. Parents can shield children against trauma to some extent, but they can only do so much.
In my team’s research on Syrian and Iraqi refugees who resettled in Michigan, we found that about half of the children experienced high anxiety. Up to 70 percent of refugee children that our team surveyed experienced separation anxiety after arrival in the U.S. These children often are so scared that they cannot leave their parents’ sides even when they are no longer in direct danger.
Trauma can also be transferred from parents to their current and future children via subtle but heritable shifts to the genome and exposure to their parents’ continuous anxiety caused by the war experience. In this way, the suffering can be passed along for generations.
Childhood trauma also increases the likelihood for developing many mental and physical health problems in adulthood like depression, PTSD, chronic pain, heart disease, and diabetes.
Importantly, unpublished data from our research shows that, especially in the case of war trauma, many people do not recover for up to three years after the trauma unless adequate support and mental health care are available.
Not all of those who endure trauma will develop PTSD, of course. Individual genetic differences and environmental support, personal past experiences, proximity, and severity of the trauma all factor into who is most affected. Some people recover, and some become stronger and more resilient psychologically. But human tolerance for horrific experiences is limited.
Those Who Go Headlong Into Danger to Save Others
Police, firefighters, dispatchers, and paramedics face firsthand the ugliest effects of war. They endure long hours of physical and emotional work and frequently see scenes of death and suffering while sharing the same concerns about their own families as other civilians do.
Research shows that PTSD affects between 15 and 20 percent of firefighters and other first responders during peacetime. It is much harder for Ukrainian first responders today. They still have to attend to injured civilians, extinguish burning buildings, and go through their highly challenging work while coming under fire themselves.
Combat veterans also face unthinkable traumas; some 12 to 30 percent of combat veterans experience PTSD. Ukrainian forces' disproportionate lack of protection and firepower against the aggressor increases the risk of harm and casualties. It can exacerbate the mental health consequences of their trauma exposure.
Putting human suffering into numbers, as I’ve done here, is not in any way meant to convert a human tragedy into a cold statistical concept. The purpose is to show the enormous impact of such calamity. Each life or livelihood lost is a tragedy in and of itself.
“The most difficult for me is to accept that I am a refugee,” a Ukrainian woman wrote on Instagram. “My apartment is in Kyiv, and my family is in Kyiv. All my life and my work is there … I left for vacation with my daughter. I left without anything. All documents of my child except her passport and birth certificate are in Ukraine, and this is hard to accept.”
But the resilience and determination of the Ukrainian people are formidable. She wrote of her focus, and that of many others who had fled, on returning home to clean up and rebuild. “I want very much to go home.”
Ukrainian forces' disproportionate lack of protection and firepower increases the risk of harm, exacerbating mental health consequences.
“Polina came to our bedroom awakened by the sound of explosions. I didn’t know and still don’t know what to tell her. Her eyes today are full of fear and terror; eyes of all of us.”
Alina, a family friend who is a marketer and mother of two children from the Ukrainian capital of Kyiv – now under siege by Russian forces – shared this reflection on her Instagram story. Her daughter Polina is seven years old.
The unprovoked assault by Russian President Vladimir Putin’s army on the sovereign nation of Ukraine has left the world in disbelief. While it is painful to see the direct impact of this war on human lives and livelihoods, this invasion will also produce less-visible psychological wounds that could linger for generations.
I am a psychiatrist with expertise in post-traumatic stress disorder and stress. I research trauma and treat trauma-exposed civilians, refugees, survivors of torture, and first responders and veterans.
Civilians, the Defenseless
Until very recently, Ukrainians lived a normal life. But that changed abruptly when, over the course of a few weeks, they witnessed their country being encircled by Russian troops representing one of the world’s most lethal armies and guided by an unpredictable authoritarian leader.
This fear and uncertainty were followed by direct threats to their lives and loved ones when the full invasion began on February 24. As Ukrainian cities came under attack, civilians saw explosions and death firsthand. They began experiencing immediate disruptions to basic resources like electricity, food, and water, and problems with reliable communication with loved ones.
Ukrainians are also experiencing agonizing feelings of injustice and unfairness as their hard-earned democracy and freedom are unjustifiably threatened, leaving some feeling insufficiently supported by their allies.
There is abundant research that such difficult experiences can lead to severe consequences, including PTSD, depression, and anxiety. PTSD symptoms include terrifying and realistic flashbacks of war scenes, intrusive memories of a trauma, panic, inability to sleep, nightmares, and avoidance of anything that resembles the trauma.
The prevalence of these conditions is higher after human-caused catastrophes than, for example, natural disasters. For example, a third of U.S. civilians exposed to a single mass shooting incident can develop full-blown PTSD.
As of now, over 1 million Ukrainians have fled their homes, cities, and jobs for safety in Poland and other Eastern European countries. A larger number of people have been internally displaced. They have limited resources as refugees and are uncertain about the future – chronic stresses detrimental to mental health.
Research from our group and others shows that PTSD affects one-third to one-half of adult refugees. In one study I led, published in 2019, more than 40 percent of adult Syrian refugees resettling in the United States experienced high anxiety, and nearly half had depression.
Another study in 2019 found a high prevalence of PTSD – 27 percent– and depression – 21 percent – among the 1.5 million internally displaced Ukrainians due to the last invasion by Russia and local rebels in eastern Ukraine in 2014.
Children are especially vulnerable. Imagine the terror that a child faces in a dark basement, watching their parents' faces praying that the next missile will not hit their building. Parents can shield children against trauma to some extent, but they can only do so much.
In my team’s research on Syrian and Iraqi refugees who resettled in Michigan, we found that about half of the children experienced high anxiety. Up to 70 percent of refugee children that our team surveyed experienced separation anxiety after arrival in the U.S. These children often are so scared that they cannot leave their parents’ sides even when they are no longer in direct danger.
Trauma can also be transferred from parents to their current and future children via subtle but heritable shifts to the genome and exposure to their parents’ continuous anxiety caused by the war experience. In this way, the suffering can be passed along for generations.
Childhood trauma also increases the likelihood for developing many mental and physical health problems in adulthood like depression, PTSD, chronic pain, heart disease, and diabetes.
Importantly, unpublished data from our research shows that, especially in the case of war trauma, many people do not recover for up to three years after the trauma unless adequate support and mental health care are available.
Not all of those who endure trauma will develop PTSD, of course. Individual genetic differences and environmental support, personal past experiences, proximity, and severity of the trauma all factor into who is most affected. Some people recover, and some become stronger and more resilient psychologically. But human tolerance for horrific experiences is limited.
Those Who Go Headlong Into Danger to Save Others
Police, firefighters, dispatchers, and paramedics face firsthand the ugliest effects of war. They endure long hours of physical and emotional work and frequently see scenes of death and suffering while sharing the same concerns about their own families as other civilians do.
Research shows that PTSD affects between 15 and 20 percent of firefighters and other first responders during peacetime. It is much harder for Ukrainian first responders today. They still have to attend to injured civilians, extinguish burning buildings, and go through their highly challenging work while coming under fire themselves.
Combat veterans also face unthinkable traumas; some 12 to 30 percent of combat veterans experience PTSD. Ukrainian forces' disproportionate lack of protection and firepower against the aggressor increases the risk of harm and casualties. It can exacerbate the mental health consequences of their trauma exposure.
Putting human suffering into numbers, as I’ve done here, is not in any way meant to convert a human tragedy into a cold statistical concept. The purpose is to show the enormous impact of such calamity. Each life or livelihood lost is a tragedy in and of itself.
“The most difficult for me is to accept that I am a refugee,” a Ukrainian woman wrote on Instagram. “My apartment is in Kyiv, and my family is in Kyiv. All my life and my work is there … I left for vacation with my daughter. I left without anything. All documents of my child except her passport and birth certificate are in Ukraine, and this is hard to accept.”
But the resilience and determination of the Ukrainian people are formidable. She wrote of her focus, and that of many others who had fled, on returning home to clean up and rebuild. “I want very much to go home.”
