The Hidden Cost of War: Iranian Children and the Neurobiology of Survival
In a time of heightened conflict across the Middle East, children, throughout the region and now within Iran, are quietly bearing the burden of a world in crisis. Their wounds may not always bleed, but they run deep, and the experience has left a lasting, deeply embedded impact on the structure of their developing brains and nervous systems. To truly support these children, we must understand how trauma impacts them not only psychologically, but biologically and culturally as well.
Since the start of the war in Iran in the middle of June 2025, many of my relatives who currently live in Iran and who have young children have shared their struggles and fears with me about their children's safety and well-being. They felt unable to provide them with the emotional and physical safety that they had during the pre-war period. During their conversations, I noticed many cultural or faith-based beliefs, societal limitations, emotional struggles, fear-based decisions, and confusion about what to do next and how to proceed with life in the “new normal” settings. While this was going on, I realized that in this war, or any prior wars, rarely (if ever) has there been a direct focus on how children actually experience trauma.
Specific to the Iranian child, to understand war through their eyes, one must consider that they are often raised in families where emotional bonds run deep, where identity is shaped through connection to the collective rather than the individual, and where values such as respect, resilience, and family honor are central to daily life. While these values create resilience, they may also encourage children to remain silent about their suffering, to avoid burdening their elders or shaming the family with “weakness.” But the body remembers, even when the child does not speak.
In general, when children have been exposed to violence, displacement, or the constant threat of danger, they experience a form of stress called toxic stress. Their brains, still forming, adapt to survive:
The amygdala, the brain’s fear center, becomes hyperactive.
The prefrontal cortex, which helps with reasoning and impulse control, becomes underdeveloped.
The hippocampus, essential for learning and memory, shrinks with prolonged exposure to cortisol (the body’s main stress hormone).
Their survival brain may keep them alive, but it also comes at a cost, such as difficulty sleeping, irritability, emotional shutdown, and challenges with life's daily focus or schoolwork. Over time, these children may internalize a belief that the world is never safe, and neither are their feelings, if they haven’t already.
For Iranian children, similar to many Middle Eastern children, the trauma of this war happened out of nowhere, and it has taken place within the larger context of their lives. For many of them, it has re-shaped their relationships, culture, community, and personal history.
When a child experiences something deeply distressing, it can spread into every part of their world: their family life, sense of identity, ability to trust, and even how they see the future.
Understanding the Iranian child's war trauma means looking not only at the event itself, but also at the environment surrounding them, the support they have, the cultural values they carry, and the messages they’ve learned about pain, survival, and healing. Here are important considerations within a cultural and spiritual dynamic that may have shaped Iranian children’s identity and response to suffering:
Faith traditions that may offer comfort: Depending upon the age and social system of the child, many children find meaning and security in prayer, ritual, or listening to Qur’anic recitations or poetry by Hafez or Rumi. These spiritual practices can regulate the nervous system and restore hope.
Family and community honor may prevent children from expressing fear or grief openly, particularly boys, who are often expected to embody strength.
Storytelling and ancestral memory are central in Persian culture. Yet, in the aftermath of trauma, the family’s narrative may be disrupted by silence, fear, or generational disconnection.
When children feel they must hide their pain, the result is invisible suffering, a disconnect between what is happening inside and what is allowed to be seen.
Healing is possible, and it begins with recognition, safety, and belonging.
Here are a few culturally sensitive support strategies:
Creating emotionally safe spaces at home, school, or therapy, where children can name their emotions without fear of judgment.
Including family in the healing process, respecting intergenerational roles, and using culturally familiar metaphors (e.g., “the soul's garden” or “carrying the wind in the chest”).
Supporting spiritual coping, not just psychological. This might include recitation, storytelling, nature rituals, or music rooted in Persian tradition.
Offering body-based therapies (like movement, art, or breathing exercises), especially for children who cannot articulate their trauma.
Validating their silence while gently inviting expression. “You don’t have to talk about it all at once. Your story matters, and we will hold it with care.”
For parents/family members/caregivers and professionals:
Watching for signs of trauma even when children “seem fine.”
Building co-regulation: A calm adult nervous system helps a child’s brain rewire for safety.
Reframing strength: Teaching children that vulnerability is not weakness, and it is part of being human.
Like children around the world, Iranian children are resilient. They carry centuries of poetry, wisdom, and beauty within them. But no child should have to carry the trauma of war in their nervous system. When we honor a child’s biology and culture, we make space for something sacred to promote growth, healing, meaning, and the restoration of childhood itself.
Our children are not just survivors. They are the seeds of peace. How we care for them now shapes the world we all share tomorrow.
