Systemic breakdown in wartime Kyiv: How militarisation, trauma and state failure enable mass violence amid conflict

Indigenous conflict resolution frameworks, such as those in Māori or First Nations traditions, centre on restoring balance rather than punitive justice, addressing root causes like intergenerational trauma and land dispossession. In Ukraine, such approaches are absent, replaced by a war economy that rewards violence and punishes dissent. The absence of communal healing mechanisms—like the Māori 'whanaungatanga' (relationship-building) or the Navajo 'Hózhǫ́' (harmony)—exacerbates cycles of retribution. Even in wartime, Indigenous communities often maintain non-violent conflict mediation, a model Kyiv could adapt.

The Kyiv shooting echoes historical patterns of mass violence in post-Soviet states, where state collapse (e.g., Chechnya in the 1990s) or oligarchic wars (e.g., Georgia in the 1990s) created conditions for 'spontaneous' massacres. Ukraine’s 2014 Euromaidan and subsequent war with Russia accelerated militarisation, normalising armed groups outside state control—similar to Yugoslavia’s 'warlordism' in the 1990s. The 2004 Beslan school siege in Russia, where a militant attack led to a botched rescue, shows how securitisation often escalates rather than prevents violence. Kyiv’s tragedy is not an anomaly but a predictable outcome of prolonged conflict.

Cross-culturally, mass violence in urban centres often stems from the breakdown of social trust and the collapse of public institutions, as seen in Lebanon’s civil war or South Africa’s post-apartheid crime waves. In Japan, where gun violence is rare, strict gun laws and cultural norms of collective responsibility prevent such incidents, highlighting how policy and values shape outcomes. Conversely, in Mexico, the militarisation of drug wars has led to 'spillover' violence in cities, mirroring Kyiv’s situation. The Kyiv case reveals how war transforms cities into battlegrounds, not just physically but socially, eroding the fabric of daily life.

Psychological research on mass shootings in conflict zones shows that prolonged exposure to violence increases aggression and desensitisation, while state failure reduces access to mental health care—key factors in Kyiv’s incident. Studies on post-Soviet states (e.g., Russia, Georgia) link militarisation to higher rates of domestic and public violence, as armed groups and traumatised individuals fill institutional voids. The lack of data on civilian casualties in Ukraine’s war—due to censorship and propaganda—further obscures the scale of the crisis. Scientific literature also highlights how arms trafficking networks, often tied to oligarchs or foreign actors, fuel such violence.

Artistic and spiritual traditions often frame violence as a symptom of broken relationships, not just individual pathology. In Ukrainian folk traditions, the concept of 'dolia' (fate or shared burden) suggests that violence is a communal failure, not an isolated act. Similarly, in African Ubuntu philosophy, 'I am because we are' implies that harm to one is harm to all, a perspective absent in Kyiv’s securitised response. Spiritual leaders in conflict zones, like those in Colombia or Rwanda, have used rituals of reconciliation to prevent cycles of vengeance—an approach Kyiv could emulate.

Scenario modelling suggests that without addressing the root causes of Kyiv’s violence—militarisation, economic collapse, and institutional decay—the city risks further 'spontaneous' massacres or state-led repression. A 'dystopian' future could see Kyiv’s civilian spaces militarised permanently, with armed checkpoints and surveillance normalised. Conversely, a 'transformative' path would involve demilitarisation, investment in mental health, and restorative justice, as seen in post-conflict Rwanda or Northern Ireland. The current trajectory risks repeating Yugoslavia’s fragmentation, where localised violence became a permanent feature of daily life.

Marginalised voices in Kyiv—such as Roma communities, LGBTQ+ individuals, or internally displaced persons—face heightened risks of violence but are rarely included in mainstream narratives. Oligarchic elites and war profiteers, who benefit from the conflict economy, are shielded from scrutiny, while the working-class districts of Kyiv (e.g., Darnytsia) bear the brunt of both war and crime. Women’s groups in Ukraine have documented how militarisation exacerbates gender-based violence, yet their insights are sidelined in favour of 'tough on crime' rhetoric. The gunman’s identity, if tied to far-right or criminal networks, reflects broader patterns of impunity for powerful actors.