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Prisoners of war: What you need to know

For most of human history, in times of armed conflict, fighters falling into the hands of their enemy have been taken captive. In international armed conflict, such persons are known as prisoners of war (PoWs) and have always been particularly vulnerable to abuse, due to their affiliation with the enemy and the fact that their captivity usually occurs against the backdrop of wartime animosity. Fortunately, the status of PoWs has drastically evolved over time– and we are far from the era when the expected outcome for captured soldiers was either execution or enslavement.

In the 19th century, there were efforts to improve the treatment of PoWs. Then, in 1929, building on the agreements between countries to protect PoWs during the First World War, States adopted a Geneva Convention on PoWs. It was the first multilateral treaty aimed specifically at protecting PoWs, and was the precursor to the 1949 Third Geneva Convention on PoWs (GC III) .

During the Second World War, the 1929 Convention had proven effective to protect captured combatants in the hands of States that were parties to it, so in 1949, the new GC III aimed to strengthen that protection and make it universal. The Third Geneva Convention constituted a landmark in the history of PoWs, laying out a solid legal framework for their protection.

Today, every country in the world is a party to the Third Geneva Convention, which also confers a special mandate on the ICRC, entrusting it with a central role in the protection of the dignity and well-being of PoWs. Read more.

Who qualifies as a prisoner of war?

For the most part, POWs are members of the armed forces who have fallen into enemy hands. For a comprehensive list of who is entitled to POW status and treatment, click here . POW status is only legally recognized for international armed conflicts—conflicts fought between States. There is no POW status in non-international armed conflicts, sometimes referred to as "civil wars". PoW status is regulated by the Third Geneva Convention and Additional Protocol I .

What kind of treatment are PoWs entitled to?

POWs cannot be held in cells or other forms of close confinement (except in connection with a criminal process or disciplinary sanctions). They can, however, be housed – interned – in camps to prevent their return to the battlefield. They must be released and repatriated without delay at the end of active hostilities. Throughout their internment, POWs must be treated humanely and with "respect for their person and their honour." They cannot be subjected to coercive interrogation, and IHL sets out minimum conditions of internment for POWs, addressing issues such as accommodation, food, clothing, hygiene and medical care. POWs cannot be subjected to insult or exposure to public curiosity. To protect their dignity and safety, their images and personal information must not be publicized. (For more on exposure to public curiosity, go here .) POW camps must be situated at a safe distance from the combat zone. POWs must be interned in groups according to their nationality, language and customs, and with other POWs with whom they were serving. Their living quarters must be similar to those of the detaining forces. POWs must be able to maintain relations with the outside world, especially with their families and friends. They have the right to correspond with them through letters and messages, and to receive individual parcels or collective shipments containing food, clothing or medical supplies. POWs also have the right to send 'capture cards', which are cards that are sent to the family and to the ICRC's Central Tracing Agency that inform them of the fate and whereabouts of the POW. PoWs must receive adequate medical attention. Seriously wounded or sick POWs must be repatriated right away, and other POWs in need of medical care can be accommodated in neutral countries. For more on the treatment of POWs, see the Third Geneva Convention , in particular articles 12 - 108

How long can POWs be held?

It depends. As a general rule, POWs must be released and repatriated without delay at the end of active hostilities. But some factors like a POW's health, parole policies, and special agreements among states can lead to earlier release. Likewise, certain POWs might be detained longer than the hostilities last if, for example, if they are serving a criminal sentence. Even if held after the conflict ends, POWs do not lose their status or their protection under GC III until their final release and repatriation. POWs can refuse such repatriation if they may have reason to fear persecution, torture or death on account of their race, religion, nationality or political opinion. The principle of non-refoulement applies. For more, see GC III, art. 21 , 109 , 11o , 111 , 115 , and 118 - 19 .

Can POWs be prosecuted in court?

Combatants – essentially, members of the armed forces excluding medical and religious personnel – have the right to participate in hostilities; so, when they are in the hands of the enemy (i.e. POWs), they cannot be prosecuted just for having fought for their state. However, they are not immune from prosecution for certain acts, including violations of IHL, especially serious ones amounting to war crimes. When POWs are charged with crimes, they are entitled to due process and a fair trial. They do not lose their status as POWs, and they retain their protection under the Third Geneva Convention until their final release and repatriation. Furthermore, it is particularly important that PoWs who are put on trial are not subjected to public curiosity, as this dramatically increases the pain, anguish and ordeal that their families are going through. Designating POWs under a different label does not in any way erode or diminish the legal protections granted to them by the Third Geneva Convention. Failure to afford POWs the right to a fair and regular trial may amount to a grave breach of the Third Geneva Convention. Read more on the Third Geneva Convention and judicial guarantees for prisoners of war put on trial in this blog post .

What is the role of the ICRC in protecting POWs?

The Third Geneva Convention grants the ICRC the right to go wherever POWs might be found and conduct interviews with them. ICRC visits to internment camps help ensure that the treatment of POWs and their conditions of internment are compliant with IHL. The Third Geneva Convention gives the ICRC Central Tracing Agency a specific role to collect and centralize information on the fate and whereabouts of POWs, dead or alive, for onward transmission to the parties and to the families. This system helps prevent missing cases by accounting for those in enemy hands and providing information to their families in a dignified manner. Click here for more on the ICRC and detention visits. For more on the role of the ICRC Central Tracing Agency, see here and here .

When did the ICRC start to be involved in the protection of POWs?

First of its kind, l'Agence de Bâle ('the Basel Agency'), was founded on July 18, 1870 – a mere three days after the beginning of the Franco-Prussian War. During the conflict, it served as an information and relief bureau for POWs. The ICRC then re-opened an agency for each major conflict of the first half of the 20th century. The core of their mandate remained similar: offering protection and relief to POWs, later including also civilian internees and displaced populations. During WWI and WWII, for example, the Agency recorded the movements of detainees, investigated the fate of the missing, distributed correspondence and relief packages to detention camps. We have been involved in major repatriations of POWs, notably at the end of the Iran Iraq or the Ethiopia-Eritrea wars.

"When international armed conflict breaks out, and new populations find themselves at the mercy of belligerent States, the Conventions activate with full force. By requiring humane treatment, and by turning murder, torture, mutilation, and a host of other abuses into international crimes, the Geneva Conventions serve as a bulwark against cruelty and reaffirm the notion that, even in war, there are limits."

- Ramin Mahnad, ICRC Senior Legal Adviser

Read more from Ramin: In the hands of belligerents: status and protection under the Geneva Conventions

(The content of this article is updated regularly)

• Prisoners of war and detainees
• Conduct of hostilities
• Protected persons

Human Adaptation to Extreme Stress pp 157–170 Cite as

The Psychological Effects of Being a Prisoner of War

• Edna J. Hunter 4  

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More individuals have experienced a prisoner of war or hostage situation than most people realize. There were over 130,000 American service personnel captured during World War II alone; over 7,000 were taken POW during the Korean War; and nearly 600 returned from Vietnam to U.S. control during Operation Homecoming in the spring of 1973. The men held in Southeast Asia during the Vietnam conflict were held longer (almost 9 years for some) than the POWs of World War II (4 years), Korea (3 years), those held during the Pueblo incident (11 months), or more recently by Iran (approximately 1 year).

My room was almost totally black. The window was covered by a sheet of steel with small holes drilled in it, just enough to let light in. That sheet of steel got awfully damned hot, ... it just about killed me. ... I started thinking ... we are going to have a tough time if we are here for any length of time, because the problem is going to be a psychological problem. —Returned POW, 1974

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Hunter, E.J. (1988). The Psychological Effects of Being a Prisoner of War. In: Wilson, J.P., Harel, Z., Kahana, B. (eds) Human Adaptation to Extreme Stress. The Springer Series on Stress and Coping. Springer, Boston, MA. https://doi.org/10.1007/978-1-4899-0786-8_7

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Government Sources by Subject: Geneva Conventions: Treatment of Prisoners of War

Starting points.

The Geneva Conventions, also known as the Geneva Red Cross Conventions, are international agreements to protect non-hostile individuals such as the sick, wounded, prisoners of war, and civilians during times of war.

• GENEVA CONVENTION, The Avalon Project, Yale University Laws of War: a list of agreements with their coinciding years and links to the full text. The Geneva Conventions are at the bottom of the page.
• Encyclopedia of Prisoners of War and Internment Nearly 300 entries on the history of prisoners of war and interned civilians. Includes entries for the Geneva Conventions. See the index for other entries that refer to the conventions.

Geneva Convention 1929

• Convention Relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War Full text provided by the International Committee of the Red Cross.

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• Geneva Convention relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War, United Nations The text of the Geneva Convention relative to the Treatment of Prisoners of War, from the United Nations.
• United Nations Treaty Series (UNTS), 1949, volume 75 Print only. * I. Amelioration of the wounded & sick (land) * II. Amelioration of the wounded & sick (sea) * III. Treatment of POWs * IV. Protection of civilians
• Multilateral treaties : index and current status Print only. See citation and notes under Treaties 238 to 241.

1864 Geneva Convention

Delegate signatures on the 1864 Geneva Convention.

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Version 1.0

Last updated 08 october 2014, prisoners of war (russian empire).

This article explores the particularities of the situation of prisoners of war (POWs) in Russia and the implications of the domestic political situation in Russia on the fate of POWs. The upheaval in Russia during the First World War resulted in constantly changing POW regulations as well as in a delay of repatriation. As a direct consequence of these circumstances, camp life developed a high degree of organization. This article describes life both inside and outside of the camp structures, and outlines the fundamental differences of POW experiences due to a hierarchy of ranks and nationalities.

Table of Contents

• 1 Introduction
• 2 Quantities and Hierarchies
• 3.1 From the Trenches to the Rear
• 3.2 Living Conditions
• 3.3 Camp Organization
• 3.4 POW Labour and Life beyond Camps
• 3.5 Political Frameworks
• 3.6 Political Turmoil
• 4 Repatriation
• 5 Conclusion

Selected Bibliography

Introduction ↑.

The story of prisoners of war (POWs) in Russia during and after the First World War is complex. It spans close to eight years, from mid-1914 until 1922, when the last POWs were repatriated. This large time frame coincided with major political changes in Russia, exposing the POWs to three consecutive governments with distinct POW policies. In addition to the volatile political landscape, geographic circumstances played a major role in the fates of POWs, who were sent to such diverse regions as Ukraine , European Russia, Siberia and Central Asia. Climatic conditions were harsh and the infrastructure beyond the Ural Mountains was barely developed. In addition to the location of confinement, factors such as nationality, rank, time of capture, and the disposition of local authorities directly influenced the fate of POWs. These differences were especially pronounced in Russia due to the hierarchical view of different nationalities and the extremely large number of POWs in custody.

This article outlines the situation of the 2.4 million POWs held in Russia. It attempts to relate the individual experiences while underlining the highly heterogeneous circumstances. Special focus will be given to Siberia, where large numbers of POWs were interned in camps for extended periods of time.

During the interwar period a number of predominantly German-language publications described Russian captivity from a first-hand perspective, as well as in the form of novels. Together with In Feindeshand , a two-volume collection of articles by returnees, the memoirs of Red Cross nurse Elsa Brändström (1888-1948) remain a valuable source of facts and numbers to this day. The first effort towards a scientific assessment was Margarete Klante’s article on German POWs in Russia, published in 1923. [1] Through much of the second half of the 20 th century, historians concentrated on the unprecedented atrocities of the more recent Second World War. Though Russian scholars were among the first to study the presence of POWs in their country, their work concentrated on the role of POWs in the Civil War. [2] Following pioneering studies by Gerald H. Davis during the 1980s, historians have increasingly addressed the subject of captivity in Russia during the First World War. [3] Some authors have attempted to give an overall view of the situation based on memoirs and archival material from Austria, Germany and Russia. [4] The vast majority of studies have a thematic focus, while a number of Russian dissertations published recently provide a regional emphasis. [5]

Quantities and Hierarchies ↑

Between the outbreak of the First World War and December 1917, Russia took military prisoners, and by 1917 was the country with the second largest number of POWs in custody. [6] Russia captured an estimated 2.4 million of the over 5 million soldiers who fell into enemy hands along the Eastern Front , and at least 8 million in total in all theatres of the war. [7]

Over 2 million POWs in Russia – 90 percent of those captured – came from Austria-Hungary . [8] Among these, Slavs (Poles, Ruthenians, Czechs, Slovaks, Serbs, Croats, Slovenes) made up about one half; ethnic Germans and Hungarians each around one quarter; [9] and Italians and Rumanians constituted the rest. The second largest group of POWs were members of the German army. At least 168,000 soldiers were captured, including small numbers of ethnic minorities such as Prussian Poles, Danes from Northern Schleswig, and Alsatians. The number of Ottoman and Bulgarian POWs is estimated at around 50,000. [10] The POWs’ nationality played a significant role in their captivity, as Slavs, Alsatians, and later also Italians and Rumanians received preferential treatment. Their privileges – internment in European Russia, greater freedom and superior accommodation – were expected to encourage defection from the enemy army. [11] Distinct formations of former POWs, such as the Czechoslovak Legion or the Serbian Volunteer Corps, fought on the side of Russia and her allies.

Though the number of POWs employed in the Russian war effort was large compared to other countries, its significance was on the whole fairly negligible. Still, Russia violated the stipulation that POW labour should “have no connection with the operations of the war.” [12] Following army ethics and the Hague convention , military hierarchies were observed amongst POWs. Hence, from the moment of their capture, officers received preferential treatment. Their privileges were reflected in the circumstances of their transportation, living conditions, and most crucially in the fact that they were exempt from forced labour , while receiving a monthly salary. Confusion over determining rank equivalents between the Austrian and Russian armies caused a “promotion” of cadets and ensigns, ensuing in the inflated number of 54,000 officers among Austro-Hungarian POWs.

Captivity as War Experience ↑

From the trenches to the rear ↑.

The way the Russian military saw after its POWs depended greatly on the circumstances of their capture. Small groups of POWs were treated in an orderly fashion, whereas prisoners taken in “great catches” of hundreds of thousands, as many Austro-Hungarians were, suffered from Russia’s organisational deficits. [13] After being captured, the POWs travelled for one to three months before reaching their place of internment. They were interrogated and the wounded singled out for treatment. The rest were marched to the rear, where trains took them to the main assembly stations in Kiev (Darnitsa) and Moscow (Ugrezhskaia and Kozhukhovo). There, the POWs were registered and their place of internment appointed according to their nationality. However, dividing ethnicities proved to be complex: while some Slavs refused to identify themselves as such, others benefited from their Slavic sounding names. Thus many Slavs ended up in Siberia and Central Asia instead of remaining in Central Russia. Next, the soldiers were piled into teplushki, so-called “warm waggons”, which usually transported Russian soldiers. They were fitted with two to three rows of bunks, a stove and a latrine bucket. Despite their names, these cars were cold in winter – and unbearably hot during summer. They tended to be loaded beyond capacity, carrying around thirty to forty men, and ridden with vermin, giving rise to disease. [14]

The only provision regularly supplied was the hot water available at train stations. The POWs were meant to receive a daily payment in order to procure their own food, but as this money was rarely paid out, the men were sometimes forced to resort to begging. [15] During these transports the POWs were unaware of their destination or the length of their journey.

Living Conditions ↑

When POWs started pouring into Russia, there was no strategy in place to accommodate them. Beginning in the autumn of 1914, POWs were sent to Siberia with no regard for capacities, leaving the local administrations to devise ad-hoc solutions. [16] In certain places, the number of POWs exceeded the local population. No provision for accommodation had been made for POWs, and after military quarters were full, any large buildings available were used for housing. The makeshift quarters were overcrowded, and the fact that the large majority had either limited sanitation facilities or no running water at all furthered the outbreak of infectious epidemics. During the early stages of the war, disease killed thousands of POWs, notably in the camps of Omsk, Novo-Nikolaevsk, Sretensk and Totskoe. [17] Russian authorities failed to grasp the extent of the problem and reacted so sporadically that epidemics continued to spread throughout 1916. Responding to the enormous death tolls and growing international pressure, the Russian government eventually developed a camp system with significantly improved living conditions.

By 1917, Russia had more than 400 internment facilities. [18] The size of POW camps was usually smaller in European Russia (between 2,000 and 5,000 men) than in Siberia (up to 35,000 men). [19] The number of prisoners in camps often fluctuated and POWs tended to be moved repeatedly between camps. These consisted of log or brick barracks, zemlianki (huts dug into the ground), or other buildings such as stables and warehouses. Soldiers’ barracks varied greatly in size, holding between 500 and 1,000 men, notably fewer in the case of officers. [20] According to Elsa Brändström, “rooms were overbooked by 50-100 percent without exception.” [21] Furniture was scarcely provided beyond bare bunks and stoves for heating.

Everyday life was very different for the rank and file than for officers. Officers received a monthly salary from which they had to procure their own food and other necessities, initially allowing them to get by comfortably. Rachamimov even describes their standard of living as “considerably higher than that of their home states’ civilian population.” [22]

The food for enlisted POWs was provided by the detaining power. At the outset, quantities were ample, equalling those of the Russian military, but soon both the quality and quantity of food deteriorated. Many men were repulsed by the fact that they had to share their bowls, as was customary in the Russian military. [23] While officers were allowed orderlies, the soldiers themselves were in charge of the upkeep of their camps. Suspicious of the POW officers’ authority, regulations were introduced in 1915 segregating them from their men. [24]

Despite international regulations, the situation varied greatly between camps, which was partly due to complex political hierarchies. [25] Bilateral agreements, customarily reached at the numerous Red Cross conferences held in neutral countries , also played a significant role in the treatment of POWs, as a system of reciprocity applied between detaining powers. Because Russia disapproved of the way Germany treated the POWs in its custody, the situation of German POWs in Russia was particularly deplorable. [26] Overall, with over 400,000 deceased, the death rate of POWs in Russia was among the highest of all countries.

Camp Organization ↑

POW communities developed according to factors such as nationality, ethnicity and language. [27] Contact between nationalities seems to have been strained by communication barriers, whereas the relationship of enlisted men and officer ranks of the same origin were marked by camaraderie. Especially in times of hardship, officers joined forces to support their men financially. Gradually, POWs developed an organized camp structure, incorporating individual skills in order to meet collective needs.

To escape the dreary life in the camps, diversions played a crucial role in maintaining the well-being of POWs. In fact, the term “ barbed wire fever” was coined to designate the state of dejection characterising everyday camp life. Classes were set up covering a vast range of subjects, such as languages, science, law and art. They followed a curriculum and in certain cases resembled proper universities , with standards of education high enough to warrant accreditation upon the prisoners' repatriation. Even leisure developed an organised character. Facilities were set aside for sports , theatre companies and music groups; POWs ran cafes and “photo studios”; and they even published newspapers.

Next to their recreational value, these activities permitted POWs to learn and exercise a profession. Especially with the disruption of cultural life in Siberia due to the Civil War, camp theatres and POW musicians were popular among the local Russian society. The lack of available goods, as well as the growing need to supplement their income led the POWs to set up workshops where they produced their own commodities. Gradually, these developed into full-fledged enterprises that were part of camp industries, which came to play an important role during the Civil War.

To ensure diplomatic communication channels, the US represented German and Austro-Hungarian POWs in Russia until entering the war in April 1917. Thereafter, Denmark became the protecting power of Austro-Hungarian interests in Russia and Sweden that of Germany’s. However, early on national organizations and Red Cross societies played a much larger role in directly improving the situation of POWs. [28] The fact that they inspected camps and reported back to the Central Powers put pressure on the Russian authorities to respect international conventions. Moreover, relief organizations – such as the American Young Men’s Christian Association ( YMCA ) and the private Tientsin Relief Organization ( Hülfsaktion Tientsin ) – provided POWs with necessary goods and financial aid and helped create an infrastructure that would make camp existence more tolerable. This included asserting the right to attend religious services, setting up libraries, and delivering sports equipment. The Bolsheviks were highly suspicious of these activities and severely complicated their work. Although the Red Cross continued to play an important role, its focus shifted towards repatriating POWs.

POW Labour and Life beyond Camps ↑

According to pre-war agreements, captive soldiers could be used as labourers, whereas the officers were exempt from this obligation. Beginning in the spring of 1916, Russia systematically used POW labour in agriculture, industry and the public sector. [29] This meant that large numbers of POWs left the camps, and many were moved westward. Within one year, half of all enlisted men were used as cheap labour. By 1917, POWs constituted 20-25 percent of Russia’s workforce. [30] For many men employed in construction, scandalous working and living conditions were life threatening. [31] In other cases, leaving the large Siberian camps meant an improvement in their situation, especially if they worked as farm hands and lived with peasant families.

Some officers had the privilege of living under strict surveillance in private housing. They were initially permitted to leave their accommodation for the purpose of shopping. When restrictions loosened under the provisional government, they were also allowed to visit towns for purely recreational ends. In contrast to governmental campaigns in the early stages of the war, the Russian population tended to approach POWs with interest and compassion. Following the February Revolution of 1917 , the war ministry started granting permission for marriages between Russian women and POWs.

Political Frameworks ↑

Political turmoil ↑.

During the war Russia underwent fundamental changes of regime. Not surprisingly, the political transformation of Russia between 1917 and 1920 had immediate implications for the treatment of POWs. Whereas Tsarist Russia had trouble coping with organisational deficits but indulged in an ethnic segregation of POWs, the Provisional Government aimed at intensifying POW discipline and using POW labour more efficiently for the war effort. This pragmatic approach, however, largely failed due to the revolutionary mood and war weariness in the country.

The February Revolution of 1917 loosened camp restrictions to some extent, but on the whole the policies of the Provisional Government were more incoherent than alleviating. While some POWs were temporarily granted greater freedom of movement, others suffered reprisals under Alexander Kerensky (1881-1970) as a consequence of the renewed offensive against the Central Powers. Though the use of POW labour was regulated, inflation precipitously decreased the value of wages. Conditions in the camps worsened. During this period, camp industries became a crucial factor in the material survival of POWs and played an important role in local economies. Among POWs, successful entrepreneurs emerged, producing and selling various goods and even taking on government contracts.

The October Revolution altered the situation drastically. After initial chaos, the Bolsheviks declared POWs free citizens and officers were theoretically declared class enemies. However, “freedom” also meant that POWs no longer received government support and were obliged to fend for themselves. The Bolsheviks turned camp economies into cooperatives with stocks and commodity-based currencies. Former POW employees were now on par with Russian workers and received representation on all political levels. [32] A large number of POWs welcomed the Bolsheviks, albeit less for political reasons than from a longing for peace and rapid repatriation. [33] Only a minority of POWs joined the Russian Communist Party or fought in international divisions of the Red Army during the Civil War. [34]

The Bolsheviks initially only established their power in Western Russia, while much of Siberia was shaken by Civil War until 1920 leaving POWs in Eastern Siberia under the jurisdiction of the US and Japan . Thus ensued a period of constant changes and utter insecurity for the 430,000 POWs in Siberia who were caught between two fronts and opposing policies. [35] The White forces, for their part, sent POWs back to prison camps and halted the repatriation process that was expected with the signing of the Brest-Litovsk Peace Treaty . Approximately 70,000 POWs joined the abovementioned Czech Legion, which constituted a major political force against the Bolsheviks and whose members were notorious for their brutality towards POWs. The seizure of the Trans-Siberian railroad by the Czech Legion in May 1918 blocked off Siberia from Europe and halted the official repatriation of POWs until 1920.

Repatriation ↑

The repatriation of POWs from Russia was a convoluted process initiated by the exchange of invalids with Germany in September 1915. [36] By the autumn of 1918, most POWs had left European Russia: in addition to some 22,000 invalids exchanged by the end of 1917, over 670,000 POWs were able to return home. [37] Of these, only 200,000 were repatriated through official channels, while the rest returned on their own, partly taking advantage of lax supervision during periods of political disarray. Between November 1918 and the summer of 1920, official repatriation dwindled as a result of the Bolsheviks’ reluctance to part with the POW labour force. Thus in 1920, when the Civil War ended and POW camps were finally dissolved, close to 500,000 POWs were still in Russia. In addition to Red Cross Societies, Fridtjof Nansen (1861-1930) , League of Nations High Commissioner for Refugees , played a major role in arranging for the repatriation of POWs.

In 1920, approximately 30,000 Germans and 118,000 former Austro-Hungarians returned from Siberia and Central Asia. The process slowed down until finally, in 1922, only 6,850 POWs were repatriated via Vladivostok. Between 1921 and 1922, 13,000 Austro-Hungarians returned home from southern Russia and Ukraine. An unknown number of POWs decided to stay in Russia. [38] Apart from political reasons, many had families with Russian women and held jobs, while the future in their home countries was uncertain.

Conclusion ↑

This article has highlighted the diverse situation of more than 2 million POWs held throughout Russia during and after the First World War, whose numbers were decimated by extraordinarily high death tolls in comparison with POWs held by other warring powers.The POWs themselves constituted an important economic force, both as labourers within the camps, as well as in agriculture and industry outside of them. Their existence was thus not entirely isolated from Russian society. They were always at the mercy of a political climate in flux. This contributed to the considerable delay in repatriation after the end of the War, and meant there was a great deal of uncertainty for POWs, whose hopes for speedy release were raised and dashed time and time again.

Reinhard Nachtigal, Albert-Ludwigs-Universität Freiburg

Lena Radauer, Albert-Ludwigs-Universität Freiburg

Section Editors: Boris Kolonit͡skiĭ ; Nikolaus Katzer

• ↑ Kern, Leopold / Weiland, Hans (ed.): Feindeshand. Die Gefangenschaft in Einzeldarstellungen, Vienna 1931; Brändström, Elsa: Unter Kriegsgefangenen in Rußland und Sibirien 1914-1920, Berlin 1922; Klante, Margarete: Die deutschen Kriegsgefangenen in Russland, in: Schwarte, Max (ed.): Der Grosse Krieg 1914-1918, Vol. 10, Leipzig 1923, pp. 182-204.
• ↑ See for example: Birman, Mikhail A. (ed.): Internatsionalisty v boiakh za vlast’ Sovetov [Internationalists in fights for the power of the Soviets], Moscow 1965. Klevanskii, Aleksandr Kh.: Chekhoslovatskie internatsionalisty i prodannyi korpus [Czechoslovak internationalists and the sold corps], Moscow 1965.
• ↑ Publications by Gerald H. Davis include Sport in Siberia 1917. A Rare Document, in: Journal of Sport History 8 (1981), pp. 111-114; The Life of Prisoners of War in Russia. 1914-1921, in: Williamson, Samuel R. / Pastor, Peter (ed.): Essays on World War I. Origins and Prisoners of War, New York 1983, pp. 163-197; Resort to Eloquence. Amateur Writers of German in Russian POW Camps 1914-1921, in: Germano-Slavica, 5/3 (1986), pp. 89-105. See selected bibliography for more titles.
• ↑ Wurzer, Georg: Die Kriegsgefangenen der Mittelmächte in Russland im Ersten Weltkrieg, Göttingen 2005. Rachamimov, Alon: POWs and the Great War. Captivity on the Eastern Front, Oxford et al. 2002; Vasileva, Svetlana N.: Voennoplennye Germanii, Avstro-Vengrii i Rossii v gody Pervoi mirovoi voiny [POWs from Germany, Austria-Hungary and Russia during the years of the First World War], Moscow 1997.
• ↑ Gergilëva, Alla I.: Voennoplennye Pervoi mirovoi voiny na territorii Sibiri [POWs of the First World War on Siberian territory], Krasnoiarskii gosudarstvennyi pedagogicheskii universitet [Krasnoyarsk state pedagogical university] 2006; Ikonnikova, Tat’iana Ia.: Voennoplennye Pervoi mirovoi voiny na Dal’nem Vostoke (1914-1918) [POWs of the First World War in the Far East], Khabarovskii gosudarstvennyi pedagogicheskii universitet [Khabarovsk State Pedagogical University] 2004; Talapin, Anatolii N.: Voennoplennye Pervoi mirovoi voiny na territorii Zapadnoi Sibiri (iiul’ 1914 po mai 1918) [POWs of the First Wold War on the territory of Western Siberia (July 1914 - May 1918)], Omskii gosudarstvennyi pedagogocheskii universitet [Omsk state pedagogical university] 2005; Idrisova, Elvira S.: Inostrannye voennoplennye Pervoi mirovoi voiny na Iuzhnom Urale (1914-1921) [Foreign POWs of the First World War in the Southern Urals (1914-1921)], Orenburgskii gosudarstvennyi pedagogicheskii universitet [Orenburg state pedagogical university] 2008; Bondarenko, Elena Iu.: Inostrannye voennoplennye na Dal'nem Vostoke Rossii (1914-1956) [Foreign POWs in the Far East of Russia (1914-1956)], Dal'nevostochnyi universitet [Far-Eastern university] 2002; Kriuchkov, Igor’ V.: Voennoplennye Avstro-Vengrii, Germanii i Osmanskoi Imperii na territorii Stavropol’skoi gubernii v gody Pervoi mirovoi voiny [POWs of Austro-Hungary, Germany and the Ottoman Empire on the territory of Stavropol province during the First World War], Piatigorskii gosudarstvennyi lingvisticheskii universitet [Piatigorsk state linguistic university] 2006.
• ↑ Davis, Life 1983, p. 165.
• ↑ For statistics see Nachtigal, Reinhard: Zur Anzahl der Kriegsgefangenen im Ersten Weltkrieg, in: Militärgeschichtliche Zeitschrift 67/2 (2008), pp. 345-384.
• ↑ Gerald H. Davis asserts 80-85 percent. Davis, Life 1983, p. 163. For exact numbers see: Nachtigal, Anzahl, 2008, p. 365 and Brändström, Kriegsgefangenen, 1922, p. 8.
• ↑ See Pastor, Peter: Hungarian POWs in Russia During the Revolution and Civil War, in: Williamson/Pastor (ed.), Essays 1983, pp. 149-150.
• ↑ There is still no verified data on the number of Ottoman POWs in Russia; estimates vary up to 90,000. See Nachtigal, Anzahl, 2008, p. 366 and Yanıkdağ, Yücel: Ottoman Prisoners of War in Russia. 1914-1922, in: Journal of Contemporary History 34/1 (1999), p. 69.
• ↑ See Nachtigal, Reinhard: Privilegiensystem und Zwangsrekrutierung. Russische Nationalitätenpolitik gegenüber Kriegsgefangenen aus Österreich-Ungarn, in: Oltmer, Jochen (ed.): Kriegsgefangene im Europa des Ersten Weltkriegs, Paderborn et al. 2006, pp. 181-187.
• ↑ Quoted from Davis, Life, 1983, p. 174; Banac, Ivo: South Slav Prisoners of War in Revolutionary Russia, in: Williamson/Pastor (ed.), Essays, p. 120; Kalvoda, Josef: Czech and Slovak Prisoners of War in Russia During the War and Revolution, in: Ibid., pp. 222-223.
• ↑ Most Austro-Hungarian prisoners were taken in Galicia in 1914, at Przemysl in 1915, and in the Carpathians in 1916. At least 380,000 were captured during the Brusilov offensive. Davis, Life 1983 pp. 165-166.
• ↑ The bunks were so crowded that when sleeping, the POWs could only turn around all at the same time. Rachamimov, POWs 2002, p. 52.
• ↑ The rank and file were to receive twenty-five kopecks, officers initially seventy-five kopecks and later 1.5 roubles. Brändström, Kriegsgefangenen 1922, p. 22.
• ↑ In the summer of 1915, the number of POWs in Irkutsk military district increased from 71,000 to 200,000. Wurzer, Kriegsgefangenen 2005, p. 84.
• ↑ Nachtigal, Reinhard: Seuchen unter militärischer Aufsicht in Rußland. Das Lager Tockoe als Beispiel für die Behandlung der Kriegsgefangenen 1915/16?, in: Jahrbücher für Geschichte Osteuropas 48/3 (2000), pp. 367-368; Brändström, Kriegsgefangenen 1922, pp. 41-48.
• ↑ There were 128 in the Moscow Region, thirty around Irkutsk and twenty-eight around Omsk alone. Grekov, N. V.: Germanskie i avstriiskie plennye v Sibiri (1914-1917) [German and Austrian prisoners in Siberia (1914-1917)], in: Vibe, P. P. (ed.): Nemtsy. Rossiia. Sibir’ [Germans. Russia. Siberia], Omsk 1997, p. 159.
• ↑ At times of extreme surcharge European facilities held up to 10,000 captives. Davis, Life 1983, p. 167. Brändström, Kriegsgefangenen 1922, p. 25; Rachamimov: POWs 2002, p. 92.
• ↑ In some places field-officers even had single rooms. Brändström, Kriegsgefangenen 1922, p. 31. Wurzer, Erfahrung 2006, p. 105.
• ↑ Brändström, Kriegsgefangenen 1922, p. 27.
• ↑ Rachamimov, POWs 2002, p. 98. Low-ranking officers received fifty roubles a month, field-officers seventy-five, generals 125.
• ↑ Soldiers’ daily rations consisted of bread, meat or fish, buckwheat, potatoes, cabbage or beets, fats, sugar and tea. Brändström, Kriegsgefangenen 2002, pp. 27-28.
• ↑ In Krasnoyarsk, a four-meter high fence was erected to create two distinct sections. Ibid., pp. 33-34. Davis, POW Camps 1986, p. 152.
• ↑ Policies were made in Petrograd (the first decree regulating POW treatment was passed on October 1914), but could be altered by the military districts and were implemented by the camp commanders. Brändström, Kriegsgefangenen 1922, p. 7.
• ↑ E.g. German POWs could be subjected to longer working hours. Wurzer, Kriegsgefangenen 2005, p. 171. See also: Klante, Kriegsgefangenen 1923.
• ↑ Peter Pastor describes nationalism as the “primary ideology” of the camps. In: Pastor, Hungarian POWs 1983, p. 150. According to G. H. Davis, “seeking the company of their own national or ethnic groups” was the primal instinct of new POWs. In: Davis, POW Camps 1986, p. 149.
• ↑ For more information, see corresponding chapters in: Wurzer, Kriegsgefangenen 2005, pp. 409-441 and 497-503; Rachamimov, POWs 2002, pp. 161-190. Davis, National Red Cross Societies 1993.
• ↑ For a detailed study see: Moritz, Verena: Die österreichisch-ungarischen Kriegsgefangenen in der russischen Wirtschaft. 1914 bis Oktober 1917, in: Zeitgeschichte 25 (1998), pp. 380-389.
• ↑ Pastor, Hungarian POWs 1983, p. 150. G. H. Davis talks about 1,500,000 POWs employed by October 1916. Davis, Life 1983, p. 174.
• ↑ See Nachtigal, Reinhard: Die Murmanbahn. Die Verkehrsanbindung eines kriegswichtigen Hafens und das Arbeitspotential der Kriegsgefangenen (1915-1918), Remshalden 2007.
• ↑ At least in theory, they received wages equal to Russian workers, could chose their place of work, and their work day was limited to eight hours.
• ↑ Pastor, Hungarian POWs 1983, pp. 151 and 154. For more on the involvement of POWs in the Russian Revolution see Leidinger, Hannes/Moritz, Verena: Gefangenschaft. Revolution. Heimkehr. Die Bedeutung der Kriegsgefangenenproblematik für die Geschichte des Kommunismus in Mittel- und Osteuropa 1917-1920, Vienna et al. 2003.
• ↑ Striegnitz, Sonja: Vorwort, in: Pardon, Inge/Shurawljow, Waleri W. (ed.): Lager, Front, Heimat. Deutsche Kriegsgefangene in Sowjetrußland 1917-1920, Munich 1994, vol. i, pp. 7 and 9.
• ↑ Rachamimov, POWs 2002, p. 4.
• ↑ For detailed studies of repatriation see: Nachtigal: Repatriation 2008. Leidinger, Hannes/Moritz, Verena: Österreich-Ungarn und die Heimkehrer aus russischer Kriegsgefangenschaft im Jahr 1918, in: Österreich in Geschichte und Literatur 41/6 (1997), pp. 385-403.
• ↑ Leidinger/Moritz: Gefangenschaft 2003, p. 463.
• ↑ According to Fridtjof Nansen’s repatriation efforts, 4,000 POWs were left in all of Russia in March 1922. Davis, Life 1983, p. 189.
• Brändström, Elsa: Among prisoners of war in Russia & Siberia , London 1929: Hutchinson.
• Davis, Gerald H.: POWs in twentieth-century war economies , in: Journal of Contemporary History 12, 1977, pp. 623-634.
• Davis, Gerald H.: National Red Cross societies and prisoners of war in Russia, 1914-18 , in: Journal of Contemporary History 28/1, 1993, pp. 31-52.
• Davis, Gerald H.: Deutsche Kriegsgefangene im Ersten Weltkrieg in Russland , in: Militärgeschichtliche Mitteilungen 31, 1982, pp. 37-49.
• Davis, Gerald H.: POW camps as social communities in Russia. Krasnoiarsk 1914-1921 , in: East European Quarterly 21, 1987, pp. 147-163.
• Klante, Margarete: Die deutschen Kriegsgefangenen in Rußland , in: Schwarte, Max (ed.): Der grosse Krieg, 1914-1918, Leipzig 1921: Barth, pp. 182-204.
• Leidinger, Hannes / Moritz, Verena: Gefangenschaft, Revolution, Heimkehr. Die Bedeutung der Kriegsgefangenenproblematik für die Geschichte des Kommunismus in Mittel- und Osteuropa 1917-1920 , Vienna 2003: Böhlau.
• Nachtigal, Reinhard: Russland und seine österreichisch-ungarischen Kriegsgefangenen (1914-1918) , Remshalden 2003: Greiner.
• Nachtigal, Reinhard: The repatriation and reception of returning prisoners of war, 1918-22 , in: Immigrants & Minorities 26/1-2, 2008, pp. 157-184.
• Rachamimov, Alon (Iris): POWs and the Great War. Captivity on the Eastern front , New York 2002: Berg Publishers.
• Speed, Richard Berry: Prisoners, diplomats, and the Great War. A study in the diplomacy of captivity , New York 1990: Greenwood Press.
• Williamson, Jr., Samuel R. / Pastor, Peter (eds.): Essays on World War I. Origins and prisoners of war , New York 1983: Brooklyn College Press.
• Wurzer, Georg: Die Kriegsgefangenen der Mittelmächte in Russland im Ersten Weltkrieg , Göttingen 2005: V&R Unipress.

Nachtigal, Reinhard, Radauer, Lena: Prisoners of War (Russian Empire) , in: 1914-1918-online. International Encyclopedia of the First World War, ed. by Ute Daniel, Peter Gatrell, Oliver Janz, Heather Jones, Jennifer Keene, Alan Kramer, and Bill Nasson, issued by Freie Universität Berlin, Berlin 2014-10-08. DOI : 10.15463/ie1418.10386 .

This text is licensed under: CC by-NC-ND 3.0 Germany - Attribution, Non-commercial, No Derivative Works.

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• v.4(5); 2014 Oct 6

Resilience in the aftermath of war trauma: a critical review and commentary

Brett t. litz.

1 Massachusetts Veterans Epidemiological Research and Information Center, VA Boston Healthcare System, Boston, MA, USA

2 Departments of Psychology and Psychiatry, Boston University, Boston, MA, USA

The resilience construct has received a great deal of attention as a result of the long wars in Iraq and Afghanistan. The discourse about resilience, especially the promise of promoting it and mitigating risk for serious post-traumatic negative outcomes among service members and veterans, is hopeful and encouraging. Remarkably, most service members exposed to horrific war trauma are not incapacitated by the experience. Yet, resilience is elusive and fleeting for many veterans of war. In this paper, I address some of the complexities about resilience in the context of exposure to war stressors and I offer some assumptions and heuristics that stem from my involvement in the dialogue about resilience and from experiences helping prevent post-traumatic stress disorder among active-duty service members with military trauma. My goal is to use my observations and applied experiences as an instructive context to raise critical questions for the field about resilience in the face of traumatic life-events.

1. Introduction

The resilience construct has received a great deal of attention in the stress and trauma fields especially as a result of 9–11, an event that raised the spectre of a future with mass violence, terror and loss in the consciousness of citizens, care-communities, academics and policy-makers. The discourse about resilience has also been shaped and intensified by the long wars in Iraq and Afghanistan—approximately 2.5 million US service members have been deployed to these wars and 1.5 are still deployed overseas 13 years on. In this time frame, it might be said that we have emerged as an uneasy, concerned and weary society arguably looking for comfort and reassurance. The promise of promoting resilience and mitigating risk for serious post-traumatic negative outcomes among those who serve in the military during time of sustained wars is hopeful and encouraging. Remarkably, most service members exposed to severe war trauma are not incapacitated by the experience. However, we need to be cautious; resilience is very complex, multiply determined, and elusive and fleeting for many war veterans.

In this paper, I address some of the complexities about the construct of resilience and I offer some assumptions and heuristics that stem from my involvement in the dialogue about resilience in the face of trauma generally and war trauma specifically. Because of the uniqueness of the military sub-population and the extraordinary demands of war, which includes perpetration of violence and killing, adaptation to traumatic war experiences, in particular, is relatively incomparable to the wide variety of no less important forms of resilience in the face of other acute and chronic stressors, such as poverty, poor living conditions, disease, disability, political violence, occupational demands and so forth. In this effort, I will not be addressing the similarities and differences in the varieties of resilience contexts, nor will I be offering comments about what can be learned about resilience of all kinds from resilience in the context of war trauma. I will also be framing resilience in the war-trauma context in mental health terms, indexed chiefly by the severity of post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD) symptoms. PTSD is one of the most common mental health outcomes from war among US military personnel (in the UK, the most common mental disorder is alcohol abuse [ 1 ]) and the discourse about resilience in the military has underscored the need to prevent or mitigate PTSD. However, it should be emphasized that service members and veterans may have PTSD and manifest other types or forms of resilience, and veterans may have minimal PTSD symptoms, yet have a range of problems in living and wellness deficits that are undeniable signs of a lack of resilience.

My perspective stems from my experience advising, researching and caring for active-duty service members and veterans exposed to various military traumas. My goal is to use my observations as an early interventionist and the extensive cumulative knowledge about the impact of war on service members and veterans as an instructive context to raise critical questions for the field about resilience. In my view, those who promote and study resilience in the face of war-zone stressors fail to sufficiently appreciate that much is unsettled and unknown. There is a lack of specificity or agreement about numerous fundamental questions: how should resilience be operationalized? What is it? Is there only one form? What are people resilient to? When does it manifest and in what context? Most importantly, can it be trained or promoted?

Since 9–11, it appears that at least two factors have motivated the focus on resilience. First, researchers, informed by theory, observation, applied field experiences and epidemiological efforts, were critical about the long-standing tradition in the culture, media and among policy-makers that regardless of role, culture and context, exposure to any traumatic life experience and serious loss is sufficient to convey serious risk for PTSD and other mental and behavioural health problems implicated by exposure to these horrific life experiences [ 2 , 3 ]. This type of thinking about risk had led to a one-size-fits-all thinking about the care needs of trauma and loss victims—the assumption was that everyone needed some kind of crisis intervention or grief counselling to ensure resilience. The equal risk model , for want of a better term, is unfounded and the intervention strategies that flow from it are problematic because they are not evidence-based [ 4 ], rather they often stem from heartfelt organizational needs to do something in the face of tragedy. Historically, early interventions for victims of trauma typically entail outsiders intervening with one-off strategies that fall short in several respects [ 5 ]. The prevention strategies may be intrusive for some; fail to appreciate and leverage indigenous resources that promote healing and recovery; waste professional support resources on the majority who do not need them; and overemphasize the normality of various signs and symptoms of early reactions. The latter merits a separate explanation and focus.

Because only a small minority of people exposed to trauma develops mental illness as a result, many assume that if a person's immediate response to trauma is not demonstrable incapacitation it is normal. In the military, this assumption often leads care-providers and leaders to foster the expectation among service members that any acute experience will abate and any impairment in functioning will be temporary. In the field, in terms of operational policy, this model stems from concerns about inappropriately pathologizing and over-medicalizing true normal reactions (false positives). The binary expectation of normality or incapacitation can be functional in an operational environment because it may be inappropriate for leaders to suggest to service members after battle, when troops are vulnerable and suggestible, that what is being experienced is disordered , which may foster a putative iatrogenic type of false positive reaction. However, the assumption that, short of mental illness, all reactions to extraordinary stress are normal is not only anachronistic in terms of the study of serious and sustained trauma but it begs the question: if most reactions are normal, what is there to prevent—why provide even one-off counselling of any sort? What I will argue below is that these issues are inextricably bound by the type of traumatic context and the degree and type of exposure. It is one thing to predict positive adaptation after an automobile accident; it is entirely another to think about what people need and to predict what will happen over time after sustained deprivation, torture and sexual violence. Consider for a moment the latter type of experience. If normality is emphasized, what is someone going to think when their invisible wounds, such as being haunted and anguished by the experience, consume them and they are having a hard time functioning ‘normally’? Especially early on, most cases such as these will not have a mental disorder, yet their suffering and impairment is not normal. What will these people think of professionals or leaders if they are dissociating, numb and disorganized while they listen to messages about normality early on in their adaptation? The danger is that carer and leaders will not be trusted and they will lose credibility or, worse yet, those who are understandably abnormally affected will feel stigmatized and ashamed—they will regard their response as due to personal weakness and blame themselves.

In addition to setting in motion innovative research on models of adaptation to trauma, loss and serious life challenges that posit varied response typologies (one of which is resilience; e.g. [ 6 ]), the emphasis on resilience, especially in the trauma and PTSD field, stems from the aspiration to determine the modifiable and trainable keys to successful navigation of high-magnitude events and losses. In other words, it is not enough to expect high rates of resilience and let nature run its course. The challenge is to assess individuals over time to help those who need help bouncing back and to collect information about what predicts adaptive outcomes. Knowing what predicts sustained resilience in the face of horrific traumatic events in the military will allow professionals to develop and adopt training and preparation programmes, and policy-makers can shape post-exposure contexts to promote these outcomes and processes.

2. What is resilience?

Resilience, like the constructs stress and trauma, signifies a process and an outcome . As a process, resilience entails a relatively unspecified and under-researched transaction between personal traits and resources (and the group) and the environment. These transactions entail hard-wired, psychological, biological, behavioural, social and spiritual processes that mediate outcomes. In simplistic terms, the first transaction in the context of exposure to traumatic stressors is the person's automatic response to the profound provocation and his or her appraisal of the meaning and implication of the experience. The second entails the complex interplay of the post-traumatic experience and personal coping assets and options (social, occupational, cultural and so forth; e.g. [ 7 ]). The outcome of these transactions between lived experience and real and appraised resources to manage and adapt is highly dependent on the degree of exposure, whether maliciousness was involved, the age and development of the person, and social, cultural, and economic resources.

The terms resilient or resilience most often refer to an outcome. That is, a person who manages and reconciles a traumatic experience in the moment and over time is said to have navigated the impact successfully. The key challenges are to define impact and to be clear about what success means, issues I hope to clarify.

Resilience as an outcome is an unfolding process [ 8 ]; any given cross section is never sufficient to define resilience . In other words, resilience needs to endure or it is not a characteristic, but a temporary state or stage. Consider delayed trauma-linked adaptation problems (e.g. PTSD, substance abuse, aggression, withdrawal, work problems, etc.) and apparently spontaneous resolution of early incapacitation [ 9 – 11 ]. It is safe to assume that for many service members exposed to sustained and frequent trauma, resilience is a lifelong challenge. Life context and life demands change. Failure experiences and losses can trigger a re-emergence of problems linked to trauma. Alternatively, rewarding relational, occupational and financial experiences improve adaptation to trauma.

Generally, there are two broad definitions of resilience. One model, depicted in figure 1 , posits that resilience entails enduring minimal or no disruption in a person's functions [ 6 ]. Another model poses that resilience is the ability to bounce back from immediate understandably disrupted states and from initial pre-clinical responses and impairments. I prefer this second definition for several reasons. The first model conflates resilience with low exposure. Although there is empirical support for the model first proposed by Bonanno et al . [ 12 ] and Horton et al . [ 13 ], the studies used to validate it have been longitudinal evaluations of populations with highly varying degrees of exposure to a given traumatic context (e.g. 9–11). Consequently, it is understandable that so-called resilience is the most common type of adaptation because the findings are confounded by degree of exposure. In other words, to a large degree, the flat response over time is due to low levels of exposure to traumatic stressors, which is typically the case with large cohort studies. Figure 2 shows a graph that depicts the results from a study conducted by Bonanno [ 6 ], which evaluated the course of PTSD among 4394 service members with highly heterogeneous exposure to war-zone stressors in Iraq or Afghanistan. Here, not surprisingly, the modal trajectory entailed virtually no PTSD symptoms (the lowest score possible was 17).

Hypothetical patterns of disruption following loss or traumatic stressors.

Post-traumatic stress over time among deployed service members. (Online version in colour.)

By contrast, cohort studies that evaluate individuals with shared high-magnitude exposure to traumatic stressors confirm this expectation. For example, in a recent longitudinal study of rape victims that my colleagues and I conducted (see figure 3 ), the modal response over time was what we labelled as recovery, namely high PTSD symptoms within a week of the sexual assault followed by resolution six months later. Of note, the type of reaction we labelled as resilient also entailed significant levels of PTSD soon after the trauma; these women bounced back over time. Figure 4 shows a graph that tracks the course of PTSD symptoms among a cohort of Marines that were highly exposed to war-zone traumatic stressors [ 14 ]. In this study, the modal trajectory was low and stable PTSD symptoms but this course was quadratic. This course entailed a significant increase in PTSD symptoms over the deployment cycle, followed by a reduction over time—a bouncing back.

Trajectories of PTSD symptoms among sexual assault survivors.

PTSD trajectories among Marines with high exposure to war-zone stressors.

Another reason why I believe that the ability to bounce back is the right way to operationalize resilience is that it acknowledges that everyone has a line that can be crossed and which leads to severe initial disruption of normal functions and functioning. For example, even the most mature, healthy, battle-tested, well-trained, well-supported, decorated and hard-nosed senior non-commissioned officer has a breaking point. In my view, the truest test of the capacity for resilience is the ability to bounce back from entirely understandable and human crushing blows (i.e. serious disruptions in biological, psychological, social and spiritual capacities). Moreover, it is unhelpful and misguided to expect people to be uber resistant and unscathed by all experiences. Yet, a great deal of attention and resources have been devoted to training people in the high-risk dangerous occupations in the hope of creating minimally disrupted professionals who can grow positively from stress and exposure to traumatic stressors. Arguably, these initiatives have failed to draw sufficient attention to training leaders, peers and individuals about what to do if understandable psychic injuries occur. Also, few resources have been devoted to studying the causes of bouncing back from high-magnitude impacts and disruptions.

Ideally, there would be a proven way to help people grow and to be minimally affected by serious occupational exposures to traumatic stressors. To be worth the effort, formal prevention programmes have to demonstrate incremental validity. Resilience training efforts need to account for a substantial amount of variance in long-term outcomes above and beyond the critical indigenous sources of occupational resilience, healing and recovery (e.g. training, preparation, leadership, peer and family supports [ 15 – 17 ]). In this regard, it is worth considering how the US Army defined resilience and tackled resilience training with the Comprehensive Soldier Fitness Program (CSF).

3. Defining resilience and promoting it in the US Army

In 2009, the Army implemented CSF, a very well-funded universal prevention initiative designed to train all soldiers and their families in mental fitness and resilience [ 18 – 20 ]. CSF is the largest mental and behavioural health prevention programme ever undertaken, disseminated to well over a million soldiers to date. In CSF, resilience is defined as ‘the maintenance of normal functioning in the face of adversity’ [ 19 , p. 8]. The Army states that CSF aims to ‘…shift the normal psychological performance ‘curve’ of the soldier population to the right, that is, to increase the number of soldiers who derive meaning and personal growth from their combat experience (the rightmost part of the curve), to increase the number of soldiers who complete combat tours without pathology, and to decrease the number of soldiers who develop stress pathologies’ [ 18 , p. 20].

The CSF training that all soldiers are mandated to receive is based on positive psychology . The positive psychology perspective argues that in the context of prevention, positive human traits such as optimism and contentment can buffer against psychopathology in the face of military adversity and traumatic stressors. Accordingly, identifying and amplifying these traits in at-risk individuals prevents mental health problems [ 20 ]. The empirical justification for CSF comes from the Penn Resiliency Program which uses positive psychology methods to prevent depression in adolescents. Unfortunately, a meta-analysis of the Penn Resiliency Program's effect on depressive symptoms concluded that there was no evidence that the programme is effective in ‘preventing, delaying or lessening the intensity or duration of future psychological disorders’ [ 21 , p. 1051]. Indeed, my colleagues and I conducted a systematic review of the evidence used to support the efficacy and impact of CSF and we found that there is no evidence that CSF prevents PTSD or that CSF has incremental validity in altering response to daily hassles and adversities [ 22 ].

It is not surprising that CSF would be attractive to the Army leaders who fund and promote it because it is focused on putatively trainable positive proactive wellness behaviours that could easily be framed as a form of mental and relational ‘fitness’. The model is strength-based and eschews the equal risk and the medical pathology-based models. Each of these features is understandably attractive and laudable. It makes sense that the military is attracted to a solution that does not require the imposition and intrusion of mental health professionals in-theatre and in-garrison. I also suspect that senior leaders who had been exposed to the hell of war but grew and matured from these experiences resonated with the central thesis of the positive psychology approach, namely that with the right frame of mind, PTSD is not destiny. Rather, service members can be taught ways to ensure minimal impact if not growth.

In my view, at the start of the conversation about the relevance of the positive psychology approach for what was to become CSF someone needed to ask about the core assumptions about resilience that were being considered, particularly whether maintenance of normal functioning in the face of non-combat hassles and adversities is the right framework to consider. In other words, why would cognitive and behavioural wellness strategies, which may help service members adapt to work and relationship conflicts, daily hassles and chronic adversities, be sufficient to help them bounce back from exposure to the serious and grotesque harms of war? Other questions would be: if service members have war experiences that putatively cross their personal threshold, what are they to do—will they know what to do or, more importantly, will peers and leaders know what to do? How will positive psychological strategies be seen by service members in this context? Might the credibility of the programme be in jeopardy? And, worst of all, what about service members who believe that CSF training is sufficient and they look around them and their peers appear to be unharmed yet they are psychically injured by a recent experience? How could this not lead to the unintended iatrogenic consequence of greater stigma, shame and withdrawal?

4. The spectrum of post-traumatic outcomes

If resilience is a process of bouncing back (or as some have suggested, bouncing forward ; e.g. [ 23 ]), what is the experience that requires a bouncing back from? And, if for some, the state is non-normal, what can be done to facilitate bouncing back? To my mind, Bill Nash, a retired Navy captain, psychiatrist and former head of Navy and Marine Corps combat and operational stress control, was the first to posit a formal conceptual framework that specifically defines a pre-clinical sub-syndromal state of stress injury that entails dyscontrol and disinhibition (the experiential line of dysfunction that can occur post-traumatically; see [ 24 ]).

In Nash's model (see figure 5 ), in the context of the military, service members' adaptation lies along this broad spectrum or continuum, ranging from wellness and thriving to illness and disability [ 16 , 25 ]. In collaboration with military leaders, chaplains and medical and mental health professionals, Nash developed the Combat and Operational Stress Continuum Model , a heuristic that divided the spectrum of possible stress states into four colour-coded zones labelled ‘Ready’ (green zone), ‘Reacting’ (yellow zone), ‘Injured’ (orange zone) and ‘Ill’ (red zone). This model is doctrine in the Navy and Marine Corps and variants have also been employed in the Department of Defense (see figure 6 ). This model counters the dichotomous thinking about the impact of trauma, particularly in the military, namely that a response is either normal and good-to-go or pathological.

The Navy and Marine Corps Stress Continuum Model. (Online version in colour.)

Defense Centers of Excellence resilience continuum. (Online version in colour.)

The stress injury model codifies pre-clinical states of psychological and behavioural health problems that not only cause military personnel and their families to suffer, but can also affect military performance (mission readiness) and increase healthcare costs [ 26 ]. Pre-clinical reactions entail states of functional impairment and distress that cannot be diagnosed as a psychiatric illness (red zone), but they are behaviours and states of mind and body that are non-normal and demonstrably impairing. In the mental health field, non-trivial pre-clinical levels of distress and impairment after exposure to traumatic stressors have also been called sub-syndromal , sub-threshold or partial PTSD. Sub-syndromal PTSD increases risk for comorbid disorders, delayed onset PTSD and poor occupational outcomes similar to full PTSD. The prevalence rates for sub-syndromal PTSD among veterans of the Iraq and Afghanistan wars are approximately 22%, and pre-clinical cases have impairment and psychosocial difficulties significant enough to warrant care [ 27 ]. Importantly, returning veterans with sub-syndromal PTSD report similar rates of suicidal ideation, hopelessness and aggressive acts such as physical assault and destruction of property, as those with full PTSD [ 26 ].

5. The spectrum of prevention in the military

Without the orange stress injury zone between normal and disordered responses, there would be no way to assess service members that may need help to bounce back. A system that is able to identify these injuries and assist service members in the least restrictive, least intrusive and most indigenous manner (leveraging cultural and contextual assets) is arguably manifesting what might be called programmatic resilience . This entails resilient systems that can identify individuals in a way that obviates shame and promotes acceptance and follow-through of recommended courses of action. In the military, it is leaders and peers that are most likely to possess these capacities. To put these prevention efforts in context and to further explain the unique value of the stress injury model, it is worth describing the spectrum of prevention and care that is theoretically possible in the military.

Various military task forces pertaining to mental health, resilience and prevention have underscored that to maintain warfighter readiness, the military needs to expand mental health service resources and prevention strategies across the deployment cycle and to bolster the identification of stress injuries and disorders, and intervention needs to build resilience and promote healing and recovery from combat and operational stressors [ 28 ]. In service of these goals, the military has a three-tiered system of care starting with prevention, then identification and treatment of mental disorders, followed by reintegration back into units. The military faces a host of challenges to realize this comprehensive vision. For example, there are numerous acculturated barriers to care and access to care problems.

The Institute of Medicine (IOM) prevention scheme [ 29 ] (see figure 7 ) is especially pertinent to understanding and distinguishing the spectrum of prevention and care resources germane to the challenges and responsibilities of the US military. In the IOM framework, mental health prevention entails a continuum of strategies and ways of conceptualizing the needs of individuals at risk, from resilience promotion to after-care and rehabilitation for chronic conditions. Formal prevention interventions are based on who they target: (i) universal prevention targets a whole population (CSF is an example), (ii) selective prevention stems from the equal risk model and targets all members of sub-groups exposed to at least some degree to trauma, and (iii) indicated prevention targets at-risk individuals with stress injuries/pre-clinical symptoms and impairments in functioning.

The Institute of Medicine prevention scheme.

Currently, in the military, troops are provided various forms of intrinsic and extrinsic universal prevention programmes (and behavioural health promotions) to prepare for military stressors. Examples of intrinsic forms of universal prevention include tough realistic training, effective leadership and cohesive unit functions. An example of an extrinsic prevention effort is the CSF described above. In addition, in many contexts, all members of units exposed to shared military trauma and loss are provided selective prevention strategies in the form of variants of debriefing for all unit members, regardless of degree of exposure or impairment [ 4 ]. In terms of targeting mental disorders such as PTSD, the military has been responsive to the need for case identification and evidence-based treatments of PTSD and other mental health disorders across the deployment cycle. And, much attention has been paid to promoting reintegration of service members back into their units should they require specialty care and respite.

However, indicated prevention programmes and research is relatively underdeveloped, notwithstanding a recent US military Instruction about the Maintenance of Psychological Health in Military Operations [ 30 ], which codifies the necessity to address pre-clinical stress injuries and ‘establishes requirements for activities that support psychological health in military operations for the early detection and management of combat and operational stress reactions in order to preserve mission effectiveness and warfighting capabilities and mitigate the adverse physical and psychological consequences of exposure to severe stress’. Indicated prevention entails targeting service members who develop pre-clinical PTSD across the deployment cycle so that they do not develop mental disorders and related disabilities (a form of resilience). The care and research gap that exists in this regard is unfortunate because as stated above, pre-clinical states impair functioning and create risk for clinical disorders and long-term dysfunction. In addition, the best available evidence supports the effectiveness of indicated prevention interventions that target subclinical distress, rather than selective or universal prevention interventions [ 2 , 31 ].

To reiterate, one of the obstacles to developing and testing indicated prevention in the military is the assumption that all pre-clinical stress symptoms and impairment are normal and will naturally abate. Although many service members will bounce back based on non-clinical resources and personal resourcefulness, others will stay sufficiently symptomatic or become clinical cases. Sustained sub-syndromal PTSD is statistically non-normal and confers risk for PTSD and depression [ 32 , 33 ]. For example, among injury survivors, 90% of cases diagnosed with delayed onset PTSD 12 months post-trauma had been diagnosed with sub-syndromal PTSD at three months post-trauma [ 34 ]; similarly, 70% of car accident survivors with sub-syndromal acute stress symptoms were diagnosed with PTSD 2 years later [ 35 ]. In addition, pre-clinical states interfere with service members' ability and motivation to function effectively in their military roles [ 36 ]. However, because some service members with pre-clinical impairment may recover without formal assistance (via a combination of supports, guidance/leadership, and respite and rest) an indicated prevention programme needs to demonstrate incremental validity. That is, it has to be substantially better than the passage of time.

6. Resilience to what?

The prevailing theory about why acute and chronic stress and trauma is harmful is the neo-conditioning fear-systems-based biological model of uncontrollable stress. This model is doctrine in the medical model of PTSD. The sine qua non is exposure to life-threat trauma, which triggers an unconditioned ‘fight-flight-or-freeze’ response, initiating activity in the hypothalamic–pituitary–adrenal axis, the locus coeruleus and noradrenergic systems, and the neuro-circuitry of fear system. This hard-wired response to life-threat is richly encoded in memory and conditioned to a variety of peri- and post-event stimuli. In this framework, PTSD is in effect the manifestation of traumatic Pavlovian conditioning and learning. In life-threat contexts, this model is compelling and valid from a variety of perspectives. For example, it is not surprising that clinical trials of exposure/extinction-based treatments for single incident, adult onset life-threat trauma (motor vehicle accidents and sexual assault) are positive (see [ 37 ]). To date, most resilience and prevention models nearly exclusively stem from the life-threat fear-conditioning model.

However, my colleagues and I have argued that in the military in a time of war (and other complex trauma contexts), life-threat trauma is not the only hazard that threatens resilience [ 15 ]. Cumulative wear-and-tear, loss and inner conflict from morally injurious experiences, such as killing or failing to prevent unethical behaviour, are co-equal challenges to resilience [ 24 ]. Each of these resilience challenges has a different phenomenology, aetiology and course from life-threat experiences. Consequently, each requires a different perspective on resilience but to date the focus has been on stress and fear.

Yet, there are good reasons to assume that there are very high rates of resilience to life-threat trauma in the modern military. Service members are self-selected (and screened) to be able to be trainable in the face of life-threats. The modern military also provides exceptional tough realistic training for various roles and potential high-threat experiences. Because of the warrior ethos and training, high-threat experiences are not likely to elicit the kinds of peri-event responses that define life-threat trauma in other contexts, namely intense fear , helplessness or horror . Performing your duty, assisting your peers and surviving in battle are not laden with internal and social conflicts; it will likely be construed as heroic, a source of pride and resonant with role-, self- and group-identity [ 24 ]. For those that develop a danger-based stress injury, arguably the most pressing problem is not high states of fear and arousal but the self-condemnation and guilt that may arise from letting peers and leaders down because of a temporary incapacitation in the field. Moreover, there is reason to assume that most threat-based stress injuries are readily healed by indigenous military rituals and assets. For example, peer and social supports, training and effective leadership are often sufficient to recover from high-threat experiences. The social element is particularly important; there are ritualized opportunities to operationally debrief and to bond by sharing narratives about common high-threat experiences. In addition, in pure learning theory terms, leaders in the theatre of operations typically ensure sufficient exposure to high fear contexts to provide natural extinction of any conditioned fear. Wear-and-tear challenges are also typically handled well; leaders make sure that service personnel get respite after highly charged and sustained operational demands.

By contrast, I would argue that there are far fewer indigenous military resources to support resilience in the face of loss of life (especially the survivor guilt that can ensue [ 38 ]), and the lasting impact of perpetrating, failing to prevent or bearing witness to acts that transgress deeply held moral beliefs and expectations, what has been termed moral injury [ 39 ]. Furthermore, the conditioning and learning model built on the concept of high threat and fear does not sufficiently explain, predict or address the needs of many who are exposed to the divergent and diverse psychic injuries of war (and many other traumatic contexts). Resilience promotion and prevention efforts need to consider different mechanisms of change, targets and intervention strategies. Recall the senior non-commissioned officer described above; the sufficient provocation, injury or insult to lead to a stress injury is not likely to be personal life-threat, but rather a child's suffering, a moral or ethical transgression in a moment of blind rage, or the grotesque loss of a special and loved member of his or her unit. Do current resilience models sufficiently account for these experiences?

To put these issues in context, consider this thought experiment: what might promote a service member's healing and recovery from a single life-threat incident, such as a sniper attack when no one was hurt (high threat)? Contrast this with a service member who is plagued by the aftermath of an improvised explosive device explosion that killed her best friend who she witnessed die (traumatic loss). Contrast that with a service member who is haunted by an incident where he acted out his rage due to a mortar attack that killed his friend the day before (he was not present when that happened) by killing an unarmed civilian man who was agitated during a house search (moral injury related to perpetration). Compare that with the experience of a service member who is angry and demoralized by a betrayal by a trusted leader whose ruthless and capricious decision led to the unnecessary deaths of civilians. Does the fear-conditioning model fit any case but the first?

7. Different types of resilience in the military

Resilient outcomes are multi-dimensional. For example, people exposed to trauma for various reasons may be able to function within normal limits, but they suffer from significant distress and internal conflict. This might be called functional resilience . Alternatively, others may have facets of their social and behavioural repertoires affected by stress exposure but other aspects are unaffected. This might be termed compartmentalized or system-specific resilience . For example, there may be family strife and conflict, but the person is well connected with peers.

In the military, almost any mission can expose service members to mortal danger, loss and moral compromise with ferocity, intensity and relentlessness hard to imagine in most other settings (see [ 24 ]). Both during and after deployment, service members face the challenge of mourning losses, finding meaning in experiences that seem senseless and making peace with enduring memories of death and destruction. Returning from deployment exposes service members to different adaptive challenges, which may include the relatively abrupt transition to civilian contexts, a lost relationship or other family problems, a lost civilian job or serious financial problems. We have argued that resilience challenges for military service members and the organizations that support them entail three broad forms [ 5 ]: (i) operational resilience , or the ability to maintain occupational role functioning and psychological performance during operational deployments despite stressor exposures, and perhaps despite internal distress and conflict, (ii) post-deployment resilience , which may be defined as the ability to reacquire and maintain effective role functioning in largely non-military settings after returning from deployment, and thus to again be a productive member of a family and civilian society; and (iii) long-term psychological resilience , which may be defined as the enduring ability to adapt physically, mentally and spiritually to combat or operational exposures without developing a significant mental disorder or behavioural problem.

The traditional view has been that resilience framed as mental health response to traumatic stressors is the same as functional operational resilience, and such features as courage and fortitude can lead to mental resilience. This mind-set has increased the stigma associated with being damaged by the stress of military service, and erected barriers of shame and denial between injury and care [ 40 ]. In the military, observable indicators and metrics of performance and functioning may disguise poor levels of psychological resilience because even extreme internal strife and suffering may be invisible to most. Psychological resilience is more than merely meeting minimum standards of behaviour during circumscribed periods of time. To a much greater extent than operational or post-deployment resilience, psychological resilience in particular must be viewed as a process rather than a state or temporally consistent trait and studied longitudinally rather in cross section.

I have tried to describe the unique definitional, conceptual and operational challenges that arise when trying to study and promote resilience in the aftermath of exposure to traumatic stressors. I have used the military as an example of a unique culture and ethos, which no doubt will fail to capture the exigencies and nuances of different types of traumatic contexts. The point is that there really is no universally appropriate definition, model and applied framework for the construct of resilience. Time since event, context, culture, indigenous resources and the feasibility of prevention efforts to promote resilience, all vary and all matter.

Nevertheless, I have raised issues that should be useful for anyone studying resilience to consider. Namely, that in any given context there may be different forms of resilience, which means that resilience needs to be seen as a multi-dimensional construct. I have also underscored that resilience can never be defined or measured by a cross section; things change, adaptation is an unfolding process, a trajectory. Another point I wanted to emphasize is that adaptation to high-magnitude life-events and trauma should be construed along a continuum and especially that there is a response to trauma that is short of mental disorder but also not a normal stress reaction, namely stress injury. Finally, and most importantly, I defined resilience as bouncing back from an understandably human biological, social, psychological and spiritual response to extreme events. Some have argued that this bouncing back should be defined as recovery and resilience should be defined as minimal reactions over the long haul [ 6 ]. Because in many respects minimal reaction and impact is a proxy for relatively lower exposures, and especially low exposure to highly toxic losses and moral and ethical challenges, this definition of resilience is not appropriate. In effect, I have argued that resilience is a form of recovery. Each entails adaptation followed by a return of functioning and homeostasis.

Smithsonian Voices

From the Smithsonian Museums

NATIONAL AIR AND SPACE MUSEUM

Reflections from a Vietnam War POW

An American aviator finds his way to a meaningful life in a North Vietnam prison

Diane Tedeschi

Porter Halyburton knows all too well what it feels like to eject. On October 17, 1965, he was a radar intercept officer sitting in the backseat of a U.S. Navy McDonnell Douglas F-4B when it was struck by anti-aircraft artillery while flying a combat mission over North Vietnam. The hit damaged the airplane and killed the pilot, Lieutenant Commander Stan Olmstead, who was sitting in the forward cockpit. Halyburton then made the agonizing decision to bail out over enemy territory, and he was soon taken captive by villagers.

In  Reflections on Captivity  (Naval Institute Press, 2022), Halyburton gives an unsparing account of his seven years as a POW, most of it spent in North Vietnam’s Hoa Lo prison, infamously known as the Hanoi Hilton. Halyburton and the hundreds of other American pilots and aviators imprisoned at Hoa Lo endured physical and mental torture, a meager diet, and a lack of medical care. Despite the harsh conditions, the men created a vibrant community, spending hours in conversation and communicating by tapping on walls when speaking wasn’t possible. To the extent that they could, they all looked out for one another, and life-long friendships were formed. In Halyburton’s case, he spent seven months in the same cell with U.S. Air Force pilot Fred Cherry, one of the few Black prisoners. Cherry was badly injured while ejecting from his Republic F-105, and Halyburton dedicated himself to improving Cherry’s health. Their shared experience was documented in  Two Souls Indivisible , a 2004 book by James S. Hirsch.

After serving in the Navy for 20 years, Halyburton retired as a commander in 1984. He spent another 20 years on the faculty of the U.S. Naval War College in Newport, Rhode Island. He recently spoke with  Air & Space Quarterly  senior editor Diane Tedeschi.

Why did you want to become a naval aviator?

Well, I graduated from college, and I did not take ROTC—unlike a lot of my friends who did take ROTC and were getting commissions as they graduated. So I was faced with a choice. I had a good friend who mentioned he had joined the Navy and was flying F-4B Phantoms. He thought that was pretty exciting, and he got me interested. I then enlisted in the Navy to go to flight school.

What is your opinion of the F-4 Phantom?

It’s one of the greatest airplanes we’ve ever built. It had a very long service life. It was Mach 2-plus, and it flew two people. It was just a fine airplane, and very fun to fly in. I’ve flown in the Phantom at Mach 2 wearing essentially a spacesuit, and we climbed to above 60,000 feet. It was pretty exciting stuff, yeah.

What did you make of life aboard an aircraft carrier?

Life aboard a big carrier is like you’re in a city. It had 5,000 people, which was a lot more than the little town I grew up in [Davidson, North Carolina]. And a carrier probably had more facilities than the town I grew up in. It had everything you needed to stay at sea for a long time. In fact, I never got to see all of the interior spaces, that’s how big it was. Navy life was something brand new for me. We were going off to war, and I was getting to know everybody—it was just a wonderful experience.

During your imprisonment, what was the worst thing about being put into isolation?

Well, it meant you had nobody to talk to for one thing—no interaction, no friendly voice, nothing. In Vietnam, there was a difference between solitary confinement and isolation. In solitary confinement, we usually were able to tap on the wall or communicate in some way with another American POW. You were not completely cut off from everything. You knew you had a friendly guy on the other side of the wall. If you were in isolation, however, it was quite different. Over time, isolation does funny things to your mind, blurring your ability to distinguish between reality and your own thoughts. I was in isolation before I was moved in with Fred [Cherry], and I was starting to question things—not sure if I could trust my sense of reality.

Did you and Fred Cherry stay in touch after you arrived back in the United States?

Yes, we became very good friends. Hardship draws people together. And Fred, aside from him being a friendly American, he was an extraordinary person. I respected his courage and determination. He thinks I saved his life, and maybe I did on a couple occasions. But, in a way, he saved my life. Every time I was faced with some difficult choice after we were no longer cellmates, I would think back and say, what would Fred do? And that helped me to do the right thing.

You and the other POWs built a tight, supportive community. I think that speaks to the caliber of people who were going into the U.S. military at the time.

I think there were several factors involved. One is that we were all professionals. We were all volunteers. Most all of us were officers. Most all of us had a stake in what made our country great—economically and every other way. We had been well-trained, and as a group, we were fairly homogeneous. We had the same values. And shared suffering brought us closer together.

Most importantly, though, we were determined not to be defeated. We could all see what our captors were trying to do with us. They were trying to break us down to convince us that we should oppose the war and speak out against it. We were told we were criminals—not POWs—and that we had no rights. We knew what we were up against, and we had to resist.

What was the glue that held the POW community together?

One of the great lessons I learned in prison was that they can take away every freedom you have. They can do anything they want with you. But the one thing they can’t take away—unless they kill you or drive you crazy—is the freedom to choose how you’re going to react. That was a realization that occurred to a lot of people, and it brought all of us together. I control how I’m going to react to this situation—that gives you a defense, it gives you an offense.

What was your most prized possession during your imprisonment?

My family was initially told that I had been killed in action, but they later learned I was a POW. Several years in, we were allowed to communicate by mail. In one package, my wife sent several items, including a pair of socks and a photo of her and my daughter. That one picture of the two of them together became the most precious thing I had because it was the only link between me and my family. When I deployed, my daughter was five days old, and in the picture, she’s four and a half.

How did it feel to attend the POW reunions once you had resumed your lives in the U.S.?

In Vietnam, I had memorized 350 names of the other guys that were there. I went over that list every single day, and I went over it with anybody else I ran into to make corrections, additions, deletions, whatever. I never lived in the same cells with the vast majority of the people on the list—I never even talked to them. The only thing I knew was the basic information of when they were shot down, what kind of airplane they were in, what service they were in, and what rank they were. But these people became part of the family even though I had never seen them. Meeting one of these people later on at a reunion was a strange situation. Here’s somebody you might know fairly well through hours of conversation, but you’ve never seen their face.

In your book, you mention that after you came home, you read  Man’s Search for Meaning  by Viktor Frankl, a Holocaust survivor. What did you learn from him?

I think he was able to explain our behavior, and explain that even in the worst of circumstances, we were trying to lead a meaningful life—as much as we possibly could. Frankl says our most basic need is to discover the meaning in our lives. And if you cannot find that meaning, then you turn to other things—power, pleasure, drugs, whatever. Frankl’s premise explains our determination to build a society, to have as normal a life as we possibly could, to find meaning in our lives, even though we were in prison and had virtually nothing. 

Reading your book, I was surprised by how much humorous banter there was between you and the other prisoners.

Humor was a survival tool for us. Sometimes things get so bad, you just have to laugh at it. Things can’t get any worse than this. I’ve thought a lot about leadership since then, and I think humor can be a very powerful leadership tool. Of all the outstanding leaders I’ve served under or have known, not one of them was without humor.

We live in a very materialistic society, yet you and the other prisoners had virtually no possessions, which seems to suggest that we don’t need all this stuff to survive.

Right. At the end of my imprisonment, I realized I had physically adapted to the diet—the low number of calories. And we had mentally adapted to our spartan environment. We had become a culture, and we had every attribute of a culture except our real families. But we had become a new family. At the very beginning, the Vietnamese said: “You may be here for five, 10, 20 years.” And we just laughed at that. No way. This war’s going to be over in less than a year. After about five years, we admitted our captors were right.

But I felt like I was leading a meaningful life. We had exercise programs and educational programs and spiritual programs. I was writing poetry and stories, and we were doing stuff all the time. I said to myself—as it seemed like we were moving toward release—I said, “I could stay here another 10 years.” Or I could stay here the rest of my life if necessary and still think I was leading a meaningful life. That would assume lots of things, though: We were all there together, and we could continue the activities and still communicate with our families through letters. But I was mentally, physically, and spiritually prepared to stay for as long as necessary—an acknowledgement that didn’t frighten me in the way it would have during the first few years of my imprisonment. 

This article is from the Winter 2024 issue of  Air & Space Quarterly , the National Air and Space Museum's signature magazine that explores topics in aviation and space, from the earliest moments of flight to today.  Explore the full issue.

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Prisoner of War Camp as an Economic Network Term Paper

Defining the market, development of cigarettes and food as a currency, paper currency v/c cigarettes.

Radford (1945) has discussed at length how a prisoner of war camp in the second world war transformed into a viable economic network where cigarettes and food intermittently served as the currency while items such as jam, marmalade, bread, chocolate, and services such as laundry, sewing, handyman and others were exchanged. The author has depicted how the market was formed, how a commonly accepted currency was developed and how market forces drove the prices for different products. The paper forms a thesis statement that ” a viable economic network would be formed even when there are severe restrictions and a common currency is evolved and that the currency is subjected to ups and downs, just like a real market.”

The market is defined by the inmates of the P.O.W., guards, and the Red Cross parcels that are delivered to each P.O.W., and each individual receives the same amount of goods. The prisoner receives the initial capital free and without excretion or efforts, and it is only his trading skills on how he plays the market that makes him rich or poor. He can barter and exchange the goods only with other inmates and the prison. This forms a closed market. A system has been developed that places a value for each item against each other and against a common currency. The internal market is influenced by the availability of certain goods, rising or falling demand for certain items, availability or scarcity in the external market, and market rumors. The prisoners are placed in a bungalow that could hold about 200 people, and there were about eight bungalows in a compound, and there were many compounds, but prisoners could only interact with people in their own compound (p. 190).

A compound had prisoners from different countries such as France, England, the U.S., and people of Sikh origin who do not eat meat. It soon became evident that while the food parcels contained many items, some people liked or did not like certain items, and while Sikhs were ready to give away beef tins, they wanted jam or marmalade in return. This soon created some unmet demand since there were only a fixed number of chocolate bars or tins of jam, and deciding how much of one item was worth another created dissatisfaction. Market forces soon determined that there was one commodity that could be used as a currency, and that was cigarettes. Items such as bully, sugar, marmalade, and others started being quoted in terms of cigarettes (p. 191- 195).

One cigarette issue was worth several chocolate issues; one tin of cheese was worth five cigarettes, a tin of salmon was worth 20 cigarettes, and so on. The French, who were housed in a different compound has set up a very active market that was very well organized, everyone knew the value of each item in terms of cigarettes, and they also knew who wanted a certain item and who was willing to sell. A number of middlemen who could broker a deal between two individuals also came up, and they received their fees in terms of cigarettes. The compound where the author was placed developed an exchange Trade Mart, and rates of different items were noted down. (p. 194).

The value of certain items would change drastically when food parcels were received, and a fixed pattern developed that on Mondays and other days, there would be a sudden deflation in prices as supply increased and food items were available at lesser cigarette currency, and when stocks of food items had worn out, the rates would increase so lesser food was available for more cigarettes. Some sharp traders started hoarding cigarettes, waiting for such events, and they would buy and sell to make good profits (p. 193).

Some enterprising people who had other languages skills managed to broker deals with Sikhs who could not speak English. The closed market had interactions with other compounds where the cigarette currency was valued differently, and depending on the supply-demand in the parent compound, traders could make quick profits. The French had great demand for Coffee, while in other compounds, it had less value. Some people also undertook forward trading in items such as sugar and gamble in the hope that the next week, sugar would reach so many cigarettes (p. 198).

After some time, people develop a Restaurant and Shop where people could buy food and hot drinks by exchanging paper currency that was again weighed against cigarettes. The Shop bought food on behalf of the Restaurant with paper notes, and the paper was accepted equally with the cigarettes in the Restaurant or Shop and passed back to the Shop to purchase more food. This event worked fine until certain shortages hit the P.O.W. camp and certain items became very scarce, and people who had valid paper currency could not buy food since food had appreciated and inflation had set in. This caused the market to crash, and it was back to cigarette currency again. Some attempt was made at price-fixing, but they could not come through, and it was back to market forces that fixed the prices (p. 198).

When the was nearing its end, and U.S. forces landed at the camp, the whole economy collapsed as the value of cigarettes was nullified since the economy became one of plenty and all requirements could be easily met (p.200-201).

The paper has examined how a simple and rudimentary closed economy managed to take root in a P.O.W. camp. The camp has displayed all the market forces such as supply, demand, consumers, buyers, common currency, inflation, price-fixing, deflation, share market, investors, and so on. A common currency was developed against which all other items could be traded. In effect, the case represents many economies that are active in the market, and the common currency discussed represents gold which is an internationally accepted currency.

Radford, R. A. (1945). “The economic organization of a P.O.W. camp,” Economica, New Series, Vol. 12, No. 48, pp. 189-201.

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IvyPanda. (2021, October 26). Prisoner of War Camp as an Economic Network. https://ivypanda.com/essays/prisoner-of-war-camp-as-an-economic-network/

"Prisoner of War Camp as an Economic Network." IvyPanda , 26 Oct. 2021, ivypanda.com/essays/prisoner-of-war-camp-as-an-economic-network/.

IvyPanda . (2021) 'Prisoner of War Camp as an Economic Network'. 26 October.

IvyPanda . 2021. "Prisoner of War Camp as an Economic Network." October 26, 2021. https://ivypanda.com/essays/prisoner-of-war-camp-as-an-economic-network/.

1. IvyPanda . "Prisoner of War Camp as an Economic Network." October 26, 2021. https://ivypanda.com/essays/prisoner-of-war-camp-as-an-economic-network/.

Bibliography

IvyPanda . "Prisoner of War Camp as an Economic Network." October 26, 2021. https://ivypanda.com/essays/prisoner-of-war-camp-as-an-economic-network/.

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‘Israelism’: How deep do indoctrination and Israeli army glorification go?

Zimmerman and Axelman discuss their film, Israelism, challenging the merging of Jewish identity and Israeli nationalism.

The documentary Israelism examines the rift among Jews regarding Palestine, highlighting young people’s increasing criticism of Israel and Zionism.

This divide is driven by firsthand accounts of Israel’s actions in Gaza and the occupied West Bank.

As the film faces opposition from groups trying to cancel its screenings, its main protagonist, Simone Zimmerman, and its co-director and producer, Erin Axelman, talk to Al Jazeera.

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Ross Douthat

The Real Path to an American Civil War

By Ross Douthat

Opinion Columnist

This week Donald Trump was put on trial by a liberal prosecutor on what seems like the most nakedly political of the multiple charges that he’s facing. To protest this outrage against their glorious leader, the MAGA faithful gathered outside the New York courthouse in the thousands, ready to storm into the halls of justice … well, perhaps in the hundreds, ready to get in the face of Trump’s legal persecutors … well, no, actually it was a few dozen Trump supporters, waving signs and outnumbered by the gawking press.

This fairly pitiful scene made an interesting accompaniment to the country’s biggest movie at the moment, Alex Garland’s “Civil War,” which depicts a version of contemporary America riven by civil strife, with various secessionist forces at war against a dictatorial president who’s stayed on for a third term.

That president is clearly a Trump-like figure, but the movie is extremely light on politics; it’s mostly interested in juxtaposing scenes of brutality — mass graves, tortured prisoners, firefights and summary executions — with the familiar American landscapes of shopping malls, carwashes and the pillars of the White House. We aren’t supposed to ask for detailed how-we-got-here explanations; we’re just supposed to meditate on how easily It Could Happen Here.

Some people who like “Civil War” find the political lacuna admirable, since it cuts the movie free from current ideological preoccupations and lets us take the antiwar message straight.

Some people who dislike the movie — I am one of them — think that the underexplanation is a total cop-out , making civil strife seem like a natural disaster or a zombie apocalypse, when in reality it usually represents the extension of politics by awful but reasonable-seeming means. If you refuse to give those reasons, to explain how exactly the politics of today’s America could yield our own version of 1990s Yugoslavia, you haven’t actually made a movie about an American civil war; you just have war as a generic signifier that happens to have strip malls and subdivisions in the background.

This objection is weaker the more the path to a second U.S. civil war seems self-evident. If you think we’re obviously teetering on the brink of such a disaster, it’s easier to accept a work of art that imagines us tipped over.

A lot of people think that these days, so here is a short list of the reasons they’re wrong. America’s ideological divisions don’t follow the kind of geographical or regional lines that lend themselves to secessionist movements or armed conflict. America’s political coalitions have become less polarized by race and ethnicity of late, not more. America is getting older and richer with every passing year, both of which strongly disincentivize transforming political differences into military ones. And such disincentives are especially strong for the elites who would need to divide into opposing camps: Texan or Californian power brokers, for example, both have far more influence as powerful stakeholders of the American empire than they would as leaders of a Lone Star or Bear Flag Republic.

Above all, a civil war needs people eager for the fight — a lot of people for continentwide war of the kind depicted in the movie, but a critical mass even for a lower-grade form of civil strife, like Northern Ireland’s Troubles. And relative to past eras of crisis in our history, from the 1860s to the 1960s, Americans today just do not display any great enthusiasm for politically motivated violence.

Instead, the gap between the Sturm und Drang online and the handful of Trump supporters at the courthouse this week is representative of one part of our condition: an enthusiasm for online conflict, virtual combat, rage tweets and hate clicks as substitutes for brawling and bombing in the real world.

The other part of our condition, meanwhile, is a growing spirit of pessimism, apathy and dropping out: We are more melancholic than choleric; more disillusioned than fanatical. And a Trump-Biden rematch that inspires general dismay but can’t get even the TV ratings of the last round is not likely to be our Fort Sumter moment.

To which comes the response: What about a second Trump administration as the spark, given the way the last Trump administration ended? What about Jan. 6? What about, to be more bipartisan, the waves of protest and violence in the summer of 2020, the cities on fire, the tear gas outside the White House? Didn’t Americans show an appetite for internecine conflict then?

The answer is that they did, albeit up to a well-short-of-the-1860s point. But the breakdown happened only in the pandemic year, under extremely unusual conditions and pressures most people had never experienced before. A once-in-a-century global plague and an unprecedented shutdown of society converging with a fraught election did, indeed, break through the torpor I’m describing, turn virtual playacting into actual statue toppling and make right-wing dreampolitik temporarily real. In that sense, 2020 showed that any general pattern or trend can be disrupted, given insane-seeming circumstances and a mentality of existential crisis.

But once the circumstances normalized, the appeal of protest politics dissipated. There was no follow-up to Jan. 6 on the right, no wave of insurrectionary violence carried out by true believers in President Biden’s illegitimacy, no rush to join the Proud Boys by ordinary right-wingers. Likewise on the left, the racial reckoning was subsumed back into bureaucratic politics, the CHAZ commune in Seattle was dismantled rather than imitated, antifa receded back into the shadows. It’s not that protest politics disappeared (witness the various disruptive protests on behalf of Palestine) or extremism vanished, but both returned to the realm of the exceptional remarkably swiftly.

So if you were really interested in what it would take for the United States to actually plunge into armed conflict, to be divided into warring camps and not just polarized blocs of voters, the lesson of 2020 is that you should be looking for some kind of rupture, some world-shaking external or internal force, as the necessary precondition.

Maybe a pandemic substantially worse than Covid, which prompts states to close their borders and splits the country much more completely and viciously than did the difference between, say, New York and Florida’s pandemic policies.

Maybe a great defeat in war and an economic crisis — China taking Taiwan, North Korea overrunning South Korea, the stock market melting down as the Pax Americana topples, a discredited establishment facing new forms of demagogy and revolt.

Maybe some radical technological development, out on the frontiers of A.I., that reshapes the contours of normal life and creates new moods of utopianism or desperation.

Maybe a true climate crisis, not just slowly rising temperatures but one of the “tail risk” scenarios for global disaster.

What I’m offering here are basically notes on the “Civil War” screenplay, suggestions for how it could have made its vision of war coming home seem more realistic. But they all involve something more than just an extension of current trends, a slightly heightened version of contemporary U.S. politics.

Could it happen here? Maybe. But something stranger than just Trump v. Biden, Round 2, would have to happen first.

The Times is committed to publishing a diversity of letters to the editor. We’d like to hear what you think about this or any of our articles. Here are some tips . And here’s our email: [email protected] .

Follow the New York Times Opinion section on Facebook , Instagram , TikTok , X and Threads .

Ross Douthat has been an Opinion columnist for The Times since 2009. He is the author, most recently, of “The Deep Places: A Memoir of Illness and Discovery.” @ DouthatNYT • Facebook

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Biden meets 4-year-old Abigail Edan, an American who was held hostage by Hamas

FILE - People walk past an image of 4-year-old Abigail Edan, a hostage held by Hamas, projected onto a building in Tel Aviv, Nov 26, 2023. Edan’s parents were both killed by Hamas militants in the same attack in which she was kidnapped, a cross-border assault Oct. 7 that prompted Israel to declare war on Hamas. President Joe Biden has met at the White House with Abigail Edan. (AP Photo/Ariel Schalit, File)

President Joe Biden speaks to the North America’s Building Trade Union National Legislative Conference, Wednesday, April 24, 2024, in Washington. (AP Photo/Evan Vucci)

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WASHINGTON (AP) — President Joe Biden met Wednesday with Abigail Edan, the 4-year-old American girl who was held hostage in Gaza for several weeks at the start of the war.

White House national security adviser Jake Sullivan said the White House meeting with Abigail and her family was “a reminder of the work still to do” to win the release of dozens of people who were taken captive by Hamas in an Oct. 7 attack on Israel and are still believed to be in captivity in Gaza.

Abigail, who has dual Israeli-U.S. citizenship, was taken hostage after her parents were killed in the attack and was released nearly seven weeks later. She was the first U.S. hostage freed by Hamas as part of a deal with Israel to exchange hostages for Palestinian prisoners early in the war. Abigail turned four during her time in captivity.

“It was also a reminder in getting to see her that there are still Americans and others being held hostage by Hamas,” said Sullivan, who attended Biden’s meeting with the girl and her family. “And we’re working day in, day out to ensure all of them also are able to get safely home to their loved ones. ”

Israel says the militants are still holding around 100 hostages and the remains of more than 30 others.

Biden spoke to the girl soon after her release in November. Thursday’s meeting was one of mixed emotions for the president.

Sullivan noted that Abigail and her two siblings were “still living with the tragedy and the trauma” of their parents being killed on Oct. 7.

“Abigail, of course, is living with the trauma of being held captive for many weeks,” he added. “But this was a moment of joy as well, because she was able to be returned safely to her family. ”

Biden’s meeting with Abigail came as Hamas on Wednesday released a recorded video of an Israeli American still being held by the group.

The video was the first sign of life of Hersh Goldberg-Polin since Hamas’ Oct. 7 attack on southern Israel. It was not clear when the video was taken.

Goldberg-Polin, 23, was at the Tribe of Nova music festival when Hamas launched its attack from nearby Gaza. In the video, Goldberg-Polin is missing part of his left arm.

Witnesses said he lost it when attackers tossed grenades into a shelter where people had taken refuge. He tied a tourniquet around it before being bundled into the truck.

Sullivan said U.S. law enforcement officials are assessing the video but declined further comment.

Russia recruiting female convicts into the military report says, as the role of women in the Ukraine war expands

• Russia is recruiting female convicts to boost its military forces, a Ukrainian intelligence spokesperson said.
• Moscow wants to recruit the convicts to auxiliary and combat roles, the Kyiv Post reported.
• More than 100,000 convicts from Russian penal colonies have reportedly been conscripted to fight in Ukraine.

Russia is recruiting female convicts to bolster its war effort in Ukraine, the Kyiv Post reported, citing a Ukrainian intelligence spokesperson.

The women are promised financial incentives and the prospect of freedom in exchange for their service, the report said.

Andriy Yusov, a spokesperson for Ukraine's military intelligence service (HUR), told the Kyiv Post: "We are not only talking about auxiliary units, but combat units as well if needed."

The role of women in the war has expanded rapidly since Russia's full-scale invasion of Ukraine in 2022.

The fate of many of the Russian female convicts recruited is bleak, however, with only a few making it back alive, Yusov claimed.

"Most of the women prisoners recruited by Russia have been killed or returned with serious injuries," he said.

The practice of offering convicts freedom in exchange for military service in Ukraine began under Yevgeny Prigozhin, the late founder of the mercenary Wagner Group.

More than 100,000 convicts from Russian penal colonies have been conscripted to fight in Ukraine so far, Vladimir Osechkin, a Russian human rights activist who runs the prisoners' rights group Gulagu.net , told Newsweek in December.

Dmitry Peskov, a spokesperson for Russian President Vladimir Putin, has defended Russia's use of prisoners in the war, saying that they "atone with blood for crimes on the battlefield, in assault brigades, under bullets, under shells."

In January, the UK Ministry of Defence reported that Russia was on course to lose 500,000 troops by the end of 2024 after turning its forces into a "low quality, high quantity mass army."

Business Insider contacted the Russian Ministry of Defense for comment.

"War doesn't care whether you are a man or a woman"

Ukrainian women have been joining the military in significant numbers since Russia's full-scale invasion in 2022.

Ukraine's Ministry of Defense reported a more than 40% increase in female soldiers in its forces between 2021 and 2023, with around 43,000 women serving in military roles as of October 2023.

The BBC reported in August 2023 that 5,000 women were serving on the front lines.

"A war doesn't care whether you are a man or a woman. When a missile hits a house, it doesn't care if there are women, men, children - everyone dies," Sniper Evgenya Emerald told the BBC.

"And it's the same on the front line — if you can be effective and you're a woman, why wouldn't you defend your country, your people?"

Ukraine's defense ministry opened up more combat positions to women in 2016 and again in 2018, meaning they could serve in roles such as infantry or snipers, CNBC previously reported.

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