What we heard: reflections on listening to communities facing conflict and crisis

Over the past few months, we’ve had the privilege of working alongside Thrive LDN and communities across London to explore how mental health support can better meet the needs of those affected by displacement, conflict and crisis.

We were invited to lead a review of Thrive’s current mental health and wellbeing resources, and to speak directly with those at the heart of this question: community members, activists, practitioners and leaders who carry the weight of lived experience, care for others, and often face the sharpest edges of systemic neglect.

When we talk about people affected by displacement, conflict and crisis, we’re referring to a wide range of experiences and communities. This includes refugees and asylum seekers, people who have fled war or persecution, survivors of terrorism and political violence, and communities navigating the long-term impacts of state violence, structural discrimination and intergenerational trauma. It also includes communities who have experienced other forms discrimination, exclusion and harm, sometimes in public systems, sometimes in their own families and communities. These experiences differ, but they are often connected by shared realities of instability, erasure and systemic injustice.

It’s not a light thing to be asked to talk about this, or to listen, to hold the stories that surface in spaces like these. These are stories marked by grief, violence, strength and quiet resistance. We understand the weight and risk of these conversations for some, and we’re grateful to those who spoke with us and shared their time, experiences and insight.

What we heard, again and again, was the power of trusted relationships. Healing often happens not in isolation, but in connection. People told us that some of the most effective responses to trauma and poor mental health weren’t found in formal services, but in informal spaces. These included peer networks, creative expression, cultural and faith-based practices, and community leaders holding space in living rooms, WhatsApp groups, places of worship and playgrounds.

Of course, mental health and trauma recovery are deeply individual. Each person carries their own experience, shaped by identity, culture, context and history. Healing can’t be one-size-fits-all. But what we heard is that these individual journeys are often made possible, or at least made easier, by the presence of group spaces that reduce isolation, stigma and structural barriers. Workshops, community groups and shared rituals that hold space for both difference and solidarity can help ease the conditions that compound trauma in the first place.

We also heard how mental health conversations don’t land the same way in every community. In some places, it can feel unsafe or stigmatising to even use that language. In others, the idea of “resources” felt disconnected, too clinical, too detached from people’s real lives. This provides an opportunity to be braver in how we communicate, collaborate and design for inclusion.

And across all of this, we were reminded that trauma doesn’t happen in a vacuum. It is compounded by the very systems meant to offer support. Asylum processes, benefits assessments and housing applications are not neutral procedures. They are often dehumanising, confusing and actively re-traumatising. So when we talk about “resources”, we have to ask: do they help people navigate these systems, or do they ignore the role those systems play in people’s distress? Some of the most valuable support requested wasn’t just about emotional care. It was about clarity, advocacy, translation and accompaniment.

It is also, and importantly, not just the people receiving support who are affected by instability. It is those offering it too. The community groups and grassroots organisations doing this work are often underfunded, over-relied upon and operating in deeply unstable conditions. That instability isn’t just a logistical problem. It is a mental health issue. When your job, funding or role is always at risk, that uncertainty affects the emotional safety of staff, volunteers and ultimately the consistency of support that people receive.

We have to be honest about this: precarious systems could breed precarious care. If we want sustainable outcomes, we need sustainable structures. That means funding models that honour the emotional labour being carried, and that recognise continuity as a core part of trauma-informed practice. People need to know that the support will still be there next week. And the people offering it need to know they will be too.

For us at Peace Collective, this work reaffirmed what we’ve long believed: that trauma is collective, and so is recovery. Services and support resources must be flexible and culturally relevant. Information needs to be made available and accessible. If we want to meet people where they are, we need to first understand how they make sense of what they’ve lived through.

This review wasn’t just about identifying gaps. It was about surfacing possibilities. Opportunities to build on what already exists, to amplify the good work already happening, and to advocate to resource those doing that work, often without recognition or pay.

We’re proud to have contributed to this process and remain committed to supporting Thrive LDN, and others, in building a more inclusive and relational approach to trauma and mental health.

We’re also looking forward to the developments that come from this review. So stay tuned and keep an eye on Thrive LDN’s work.

You can read Thrive’s blog and the full report here: https://thriveldn.co.uk/latest/news-and-blog/all/meeting-the-needs-of-communities-affected-by-displacement-conflict-and-crisis

If you’re working in this space or have reflections of your own, we’d love to connect.What are you learning about how trauma and healing show up in your work?What’s getting in the way, and what’s working?