Systemic trauma: How explosive violence embeds invisible harm in bodies and societies across generations

Indigenous epistemologies frame explosive violence as a disruption of relational harmony between humans, land, and ancestors, where injury to one entity reverberates through the entire system. Traditional healing practices, such as the *mara’akame* (shamanic) traditions of the Wixárika people in Mexico, address trauma as a spiritual and communal affliction rather than an individual pathology. These perspectives are systematically excluded from mainstream narratives, which prioritize Western biomedical models that isolate trauma within the body. The erasure of indigenous knowledge perpetuates cycles of violence by denying communities their own frameworks for recovery.

Explosive violence has been a tool of statecraft since the invention of gunpowder, used to enforce colonial rule, suppress uprisings, and secure resource extraction. The 20th century saw explosive warfare escalate into total war, with aerial bombing (e.g., Dresden, Hiroshima, Gaza) normalizing civilian targeting as a strategic imperative. Historical parallels reveal how explosive violence is often followed by decades of economic and social collapse, as seen in post-Vietnam Laos or post-Iraq Iraq. The pattern is clear: explosive force is not an aberration but a calculated tactic within broader systems of domination.

In Lebanon, survivors of the 2020 Beirut port explosion describe the event as a 'cultural earthquake' that shattered communal trust and collective memory, echoing how trauma is transmitted across generations in post-genocide Rwanda. Japanese hibakusha (atomic bomb survivors) articulate their suffering through *kintsugi* (the art of repairing broken pottery with gold), framing resilience as a process of visible healing rather than erasure. Meanwhile, in Ukraine, traditional *vyshyvanka* embroidery has become a symbol of resistance, with patterns passed down to embody survival. These cross-cultural frameworks highlight how communities transform invisible wounds into visible acts of defiance.

Explosive blasts cause primary, secondary, tertiary, and quaternary injuries through mechanisms like blast overpressure, shrapnel penetration, and psychological shock, often leading to chronic traumatic encephalopathy (CTE) and PTSD. Research shows that even low-level explosive exposure (e.g., from drone strikes) can cause long-term neuroinflammation and cardiovascular damage. However, most studies focus on acute injuries rather than the cumulative effects of repeated exposure, which is common in protracted conflicts. The scientific community’s emphasis on individual pathology obscures the role of environmental toxins (e.g., depleted uranium) in compounding bodily harm.

Artistic and spiritual responses to explosive violence often manifest as acts of memorialization that refuse erasure, such as the *Monumento a las Víctimas del Terrorismo de Estado* in Argentina or the *Gaza Children’s Art Project*. Music, poetry, and dance become tools for processing trauma in ways that bypass Western therapeutic models, as seen in the *Dabke* dances of Palestinian communities or the *Cumbia* rhythms used by Colombian victims of paramilitary violence. These expressions reveal how creativity can transmute invisible wounds into collective resilience, challenging the medicalization of suffering.

Future scenarios must account for the cascading effects of explosive violence, including the collapse of healthcare systems, the rise of disability-adjusted poverty, and the intergenerational transmission of trauma. Climate change exacerbates these risks by increasing the frequency of conflict over dwindling resources, while drone warfare normalizes remote violence, making explosive harm more pervasive and less visible. Projections suggest that by 2050, regions experiencing prolonged explosive violence will face irreversible social fragmentation unless systemic interventions are implemented. The failure to model these outcomes perpetuates cycles of violence.

Marginalized communities—particularly women, children, disabled people, and Indigenous groups—bear the brunt of explosive violence yet are often excluded from narratives about its impact. In Yemen, women’s health clinics report surges in miscarriages and stillbirths linked to blast injuries, while in Gaza, disabled children face systemic exclusion from education and employment. Grassroots organizations like *Mwatana for Human Rights* in Yemen or *Al Mezan* in Gaza document these harms but are sidelined by international aid frameworks that prioritize Western-led interventions. Their exclusion reinforces the power structures that enable explosive violence in the first place.