Media, Witnessing, & Vicarious Trauma: How Watching War Affects Those Far Away

When we think about war trauma, our minds often go to those living in bombarded cities, refugees fleeing their homes, or soldiers returning from combat. Yet in today’s world, where our phones and televisions stream an almost constant feed of breaking news, horrific images, and live footage from conflict zones, trauma doesn’t stop at the front lines. Many of us — in the UK and beyond — are being affected by war in ways we may not immediately recognise. This is known as vicarious trauma.

In this post, I want to explore what vicarious trauma is, how it shows up in our lives, why social media has changed the landscape of witnessing war, and importantly, what we can do to protect our mental health while still staying informed and compassionate.

What is Vicarious Trauma?

Vicarious trauma (sometimes called secondary traumatisation) refers to the emotional and psychological impact that comes from indirect exposure to trauma. Traditionally, it has been used to describe what therapists, first responders, journalists, and aid workers experience when they work closely with traumatised individuals. But now, with global conflicts broadcast in real-time, the rest of us are at risk too.

Imagine watching a video of a bomb hitting a residential block in Ukraine or seeing photos of children injured in Gaza. Even if you’re physically safe in your home, your brain processes these images as if you were present. Your nervous system reacts, sometimes with a pounding heart, shallow breathing, or a knot in your stomach. Over time, repeated exposure can lead to symptoms that mirror those of direct trauma: anxiety, intrusive thoughts, sleep disturbances, even feelings of helplessness or hopelessness.

Why Are We So Affected?

There are a few reasons why the current media environment is particularly potent when it comes to vicarious trauma:

1. 24/7 News Cycle – Conflicts don’t just feature in the evening news anymore. They are live-streamed. Updates arrive by the minute. There’s no pause to process.

2. Graphic Imagery – Photos and videos often bypass the filters that traditional news used to apply. Social media platforms can push highly graphic, distressing material into our feeds before we even realise what we’re looking at.

3. Personalisation of Stories – Social media means we’re not just hearing “numbers” of casualties; we’re hearing names, seeing faces, reading the stories of individual families. While this humanises the crisis (an important thing), it also means we form attachments and absorb pain more personally.

4. Mirror Neurons and Empathy – Our brains are wired for empathy. Mirror neurons allow us to feel, to some extent, what others are feeling. This is wonderful for compassion, but devastating when we’re repeatedly witnessing suffering we can do nothing to stop.

5. Uncertainty and Helplessness – Conflicts often feel overwhelming and unending. Unlike a film, there is no resolution in sight, which can leave us with a gnawing sense of unease.

How Does Vicarious Trauma Show Up?

The effects can creep in quietly. Some people notice them after particularly graphic images; others only realise after weeks of consuming heavy news coverage. Symptoms may include:

• Trouble sleeping or nightmares

• Heightened anxiety or hypervigilance (jumping at noises, worrying about safety)

• Emotional numbness or detachment

• Feeling helpless, guilty, or powerless

• Intrusive thoughts or mental replaying of disturbing content

• Reduced capacity to focus at work or in daily life

• Irritability or hopelessness

In a sense, our nervous system hasn’t evolved for this level of global witnessing. In the past, a village might be aware of wars far away, but they weren’t watching them unfold in real time. Now, our brains are trying to hold the suffering of millions alongside the normal stressors of everyday life.

The Role of Social Media

Social media deserves special mention here. While it has been invaluable for spreading awareness, fundraising, and amplifying marginalised voices, it also functions as a firehose of trauma. Platforms are designed to keep us scrolling, meaning distressing images may appear suddenly and repeatedly. Algorithms can prioritise shocking or emotive content because it drives engagement, even when that engagement is distress.

This leads to what some psychologists are calling doom-scrolling, the compulsive consumption of negative news despite its emotional toll. Doom-scrolling can trap us in a cycle where the more we watch, the worse we feel, and the worse we feel, the more compelled we are to keep watching.

But Isn’t Looking Away a Privilege?

This is an important question. Many people feel that turning away from distressing coverage is indulgent or even immoral, especially when others don’t have that choice. Guilt often keeps us glued to screens: If they’re suffering, the least I can do is bear witness. For some, this can even be tied to cultural or religious values about solidarity and bearing the pain of others. For others, it might stem from a fear of appearing apathetic or self‑centred. These layered feelings can make it even harder to step back, creating a cycle where compassion, guilt, and helplessness feed into each other.

Bearing witness matters. Awareness fuels action, solidarity, and empathy. It can galvanise communities, strengthen bonds, and inspire meaningful contributions. However, constant exposure doesn’t necessarily make us more effective advocates; sometimes it paralyses us. Compassion fatigue — a kind of emotional burnout — can leave us numb, disengaged, or hopeless, which ultimately doesn’t help anyone. Left unchecked, it may even reduce our willingness to engage with humanitarian issues at all, creating a sense of apathy that distances us from the very people we wish to support.

A more sustainable approach is to balance staying informed with protecting our mental health. This allows us to remain engaged over the long term, rather than burning out after a few months of relentless news consumption. That balance might look different for everyone: some may commit to reading a trusted news summary once a day, while others may choose to alternate between days of engagement and days of rest. It could also involve intentionally pairing time spent consuming distressing content with restorative activities, like walking, reading for pleasure, or connecting with loved ones. By making these small but intentional adjustments, we ensure that our empathy remains a renewable resource rather than one that is depleted too quickly.

Practical Steps for Protecting Yourself

Here are some practical, compassionate strategies:

1. Set Boundaries Around News Consumption

   Decide when and how often you will check the news. Perhaps once in the morning and once in the evening. Avoid checking right before bed.

2. Curate Your Feeds

   Unfollow or mute accounts that repeatedly share graphic content. Instead, follow organisations or journalists who provide thoughtful reporting without unnecessary sensationalism.

3. Prioritise Trusted Sources

   Constant speculation or misinformation fuels anxiety. Stick to reliable outlets rather than endless scrolling through unverified posts.

4. Notice Your Body’s Response

   Pay attention to how you feel when consuming war coverage. Tight chest? Jaw clenching? Racing thoughts? These are signs to pause.

5. Use Grounding Techniques

   When overwhelmed, engage your senses: name five things you can see, four you can touch, three you can hear, two you can smell, one you can taste. This brings your nervous system back into the present.

6. Channel Your Concern into Action

   Donate, volunteer, attend community events, or write to your MP. Action can help transform helplessness into agency.

7. Talk About It

   Share how you’re feeling with friends, family, or a professional. Vicarious trauma thrives in silence.

8. Give Yourself Permission to Rest

   Stepping away from the news for a weekend, or even longer, is not indifference — it’s maintenance. Just as humanitarian workers rotate shifts, you too need recovery time.

Vicarious Trauma in the UK Context

In the UK, vicarious trauma is becoming more recognised in mental health services. Therapists report more clients feeling paralysed by what they’re seeing online. Young people in particular — who are often immersed in TikTok, Instagram, or X (formerly Twitter) — are highly vulnerable to sudden, graphic exposure.

There’s also the ripple effect of diaspora communities. For example, those with family in Ukraine, Gaza, or Israel may experience compounded trauma: both vicarious exposure and the fear for loved ones’ safety. Their mental health needs are even more pressing.

At a broader level, vicarious trauma interacts with social trust, polarisation, and even politics. Constant exposure to violence can fuel cynicism, mistrust in leaders, or hostility between groups — making it not only a psychological issue but also a societal one.

Hope, Resilience, and the Role of Community

Despite its challenges, witnessing can also cultivate resilience. Communities often come together around shared grief, creating networks of support. We’ve seen ordinary people across the UK fundraising, hosting refugees, attending peace rallies, or creating safe spaces for discussion. These acts remind us that while trauma can spread, so too can care, empathy, and action.

Resilience doesn’t mean not feeling pain; it means finding ways to carry it without being crushed. If anything, vicarious trauma highlights just how interconnected we are as human beings. The suffering of others does touch us, even across oceans. That connection, handled carefully, can be a force for solidarity and positive change.

Final Thoughts

We are living in an age of unprecedented connectedness. The wars in Ukraine, Gaza, and elsewhere are not happening in some distant land — they are happening on our screens, in our pockets, sometimes even in the palms of our hands as we scroll before bed. Our nervous systems are trying to cope with an amount of suffering no individual was designed to carry.

Yet awareness is not the enemy. Awareness is the bridge between compassion and action. The challenge lies in finding a balance: staying informed without being consumed. Protecting our own mental health doesn’t mean turning our backs; it means equipping ourselves to care sustainably.

So, the next time you feel overwhelmed by what you’re seeing online, remember: it’s okay to pause, to step away, to breathe. Caring for yourself is not a betrayal of those suffering. In fact, it’s one of the most important steps you can take to keep showing up — not just as a witness, but as a compassionate, resilient participant in a very complicated world.

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Photo by Sasha Matic on Unsplash