Most of my tertiary teaching has been with post-graduate students. But for the last eight years or so I have also been teaching undergraduates. Some of my colleagues who were much more experienced at that level told me stories of students complaining about topics, questions, or propositions that they were being taught. I shrugged it off as not likely with the cohorts that I had.
And that was mostly true. Apart from needing to support some shocked first-year students who were learning the hard way that tertiary education is more demanding than even extension subjects at school (particularly in writing coherent sentences that built towards logical outcomes across an essay), there was only a couple who I apparently made uncomfortable with a question I would routinely ask in one of the foundations courses.
The Government insists that Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander perspectives and issues can be (should be) integrated pretty much into all undergraduate education subjects. I discovered a question I could ask the students to help them see outside of the usual proscribed lens for such discussions. It was simply, “What difficulties did the Australian Aborigines have in their interpersonal and social relationships before the Europeans arrived?” This tested their understanding of some anthropological assumptions that we tend to carry around with us.
Only three mature-age students across eight years have been able to give at least one explanation. None of the recent school graduates could. We would then explore why that was so, and the notion that perhaps we are not thinking realistically about life in Oz prior to the Europeans. Sometimes to help them think about this, I would ask a follow-up question: “So, did God transfer Eden to the Great South Land after Adam and Eve were put out?” Silence would eventually lead to quite chuckling and interesting discussion.
Except once. Apparently exploring such aspects of historical and cultural life was too much for a couple of students, who of course never came and saw me about it, but did send a complaint ‘up the line’. But we all managed to move on together.
But I wonder about those people who claim ‘trauma’ when they are uncomfortable simply at a question being asked. Thankfully, there has been a very good book written on the topic of how trauma has been poorly understood and therefore mismanaged.
Here is about my favourite quote from Dr Bonanno’s book, as he quotes the researcher Resick:
“Lesson? Strong emotions do not equal psychopathology.” (p. 54) [i]
Or put another way, just because we carry pain, we do not have to be clinically dysfunctional. Quoting other researchers, Bonanno notes how ‘ordinary’ resilience seemed to be in the face of trauma classically defined (that is, a severe physical event, experienced either directly or indirectly). Indeed, Bonanno reports that: “… the resilient bereaved subjects seemed to be able to manage that pain and to continue meeting the ongoing challenges of their daily lives, even relatively early on.” (p. 45)
One reason we seem to be shielded from such knowledge in our media is that we currently like to describe almost any discomfort as ‘trauma’. This has resulted in the use of ‘trauma-based experience’ which is very subjective so the defining criteria become very ambiguous and thus treatment is very ill-defined. This is a classic ‘concept creep’ phenomenon that happens in our psychologised and therapeutic era. [ii]
It is one main reason why Bonanno set out to find what happens with those who clearly have suffered from observable dramatic physical harm – like those returning from war, or who were directly involved in the attacks in the USA on 9/11.
In undertaking the research, he identified three trajectories that people seem to travel along after trauma (and Bonanno notes that predicting which one is still very unreliable): chronic symptoms, gradual recovery, and resilience. What was surprising was how few fell into the first category. Instead, Bonanno explained that the resilience trajectory was the dominant pathway (62 to 73 percent – and higher for returning soldiers), and he described it as “when people in otherwise normal circumstances are exposed to an isolated and potentially highly disruptive event, but nonetheless maintain “a stable trajectory of healthy functioning across time.” (p. 65 – emphasis in the original).
Some people might suggest, “Ah, this is resilience because of therapeutic support”. But no, Bonanno describes what he saw as ‘straight-up resilience’, as described above.
This reminds me of what Paul taught about dealing with ongoing distress in his letters found in the New Testament. One interesting example of this is his letter to the Philippians. He wrote it while he was in prison (there is some debate about which one) – but one of his themes is rejoicing. When some people read, “Rejoice, and again I say rejoice!” they think it means we should never be uncomfortable in our ‘feelings’ or in any need. But that is not what Paul is teaching. He is teaching that we can rejoice despite the difficulties, like being in prison, not having enough to eat, or being ship-wrecked or persecuted. What is his basis for being able to rejoice?
It is because of his firm belief that Jesus the Christ did rise from the dead, has thus conquered death, and will complete all things perfectly when He returns. He rejoices in the Lord, not his fickle feelings or contexts.
Yet in this current era, we have this tendency to be a bit ‘precious’ about the ebb and flow of daily life. People become easily angered while driving. Harsh and crude speech flows too easily from the hearts and mouths of those of influence – like politicians, sports stars and performing artists. We rush to not miss out on the latest deal. We connive to finish first and to be at the top of our field. We expect our politicians to fix all our social ills, while we blame them for all the difficulties.
But peace is elusive. Thus, we become more easily upset with what people say to us, or around us. Through gritted teeth we let them know how much we have been traumatised by their speech. Reviews are demanded, which in some cases leads to people being banned from ongoing events.
And the lament is heard: “I am so traumatised by you!”
But that is so often not the case. Real trauma is easily seen. Most know how to carry that pain while staying committed to core relationships and life. But those of more uncertain groundings must have an oppressor to blame and will hunt for retribution.
The Old Book has so much wisdom which some research is now supporting. Christians are called to hope in the resurrected Christ. Because of that, sincere Christians tend to do better on many metrics of engagement with life in its personal and social aspects. As Ilana Horwitz [iii] noted in her recent book on the impact of having a sincere faith at school and college:
As emerging adults, abiders experienced fewer symptoms of emotional, physical and cognitive despair. … On all indicators, abiders across social class groups fared better than non-abiders. … abiders are significantly less likely to experience emotional, cognitive, or physical despair. They feel less anxious, healthier, and more optimistic about life. Without a doubt, their deep relationship with God helps them overcome several challenges they bump up against. Abiders are simply more resilient. This is driven by their involvement in a religious social community but also their steadfast belief in God. (pp.179-80)
Let’s encourage more and more abiders and let’s stop saying all bad events have (clinically) traumatised us! There is life, and it is found by thinking about eternity, and not in by focusing on our current pain.
[i] George A Bonanno The End of Trauma: How the New Science of Resilience is Changing how we think about PTSD. New York: Basic Books, 2021
[ii] For example, see Philip Reiff (2007) The Triumph of the Therapeutic: Uses of Faith after Freud. Wilmington, Delaware: ISI Books (40th Anniversary edition); and also, Abigail Shrier, Bad Therapy: Why the Kid’s aren’t growing up. USA: Sentinel Books, 2024
[iii] Horwitz, L.M. (2022) God, Grades and Graduation: Religion’s Surprising Impact on Academic Success. Oxford University Press.
