Living Together in Crisis: Navigating Shelter Resilience, Diversity & Trauma
Preparedness is more than knowing where the exit is—it's about understanding how we live together behind closed doors.
What truly happens when a shelter becomes more than just a place of safety—but a space where daily life, in all its complexity, must quietly continue?
Recent global crises—including the ongoing conflict in Ukraine, the escalation in Gaza, Iran, and tensions in the broader Middle East—serve as stark reminders of how fragile peace can be, even in regions that once considered themselves relatively insulated. These developments underscore the importance of societal preparedness, not only at the strategic level but also within local communities. In this light, the longstanding Swedish and broader European focus on totalförsvar—total defence—emerges as particularly timely. Initiatives such as the distribution of the “Om krisen eller kriget kommer” guide (If crisis or war comes), which provides clear advice on basic needs, shelter use, and civil readiness, represent valuable investments in building resilient, informed populations.
Yet as society rightly focuses on logistics, one cannot help but reflect on an equally vital dimension that tends to receive less attention: what life is actually like inside those shelters, once the door is shut and the outside world falls silent. How do we coexist in confined, high-stress environments—especially in culturally diverse communities—without adding tension to the pressure already present?
Lessons from Lebanon: Coexistence Amid Uncertainty
While working in post-conflict settings and witnessing civil resilience in times of war, certain patterns become clear. One particularly vivid reference is Lebanon during the 1980s, where makeshift shelters—built to withstand shelling—quickly turned into shared living spaces for neighbours who, in many cases, had never spoken to each other before.
The challenges were rarely dramatic. They were human. The smell of strong food, the loud whisper of anxiety, the instinctive assertion of routine in abnormal times. One story stands out: a couple choosing to slip outside the shelter for a brief romantic moment—not out of recklessness, but as an act of reclaiming life, asserting dignity amid despair. It was tender defiance. Yet it also introduced a risk—not only to them but potentially to others in the shelter. Their return meant re-opening the space, however briefly, to outside threats.
These aren't just stories of wartime discipline. They are reminders that even small actions carry weight when shared spaces become survival spaces.
The Moral Dilemmas of Preparedness: Insights from Somalia
Similarly complex were the preparedness drills conducted among international staff in Somalia. Though designed for highly trained professionals, these simulations unearthed another kind of fragility: the psychological toll of impossible decisions.
Imagine this: someone is desperately seeking shelter during an ongoing simulated incident. Do you open the door—risking the safety of those already inside—or do you leave them outside, unsure of their identity or intent? These are not hypothetical questions in crisis scenarios. They are real ethical dilemmas—ones that can leave lasting emotional marks if individuals are not mentally equipped to process them.
And therein lies the challenge. Shelter preparedness is often framed in physical terms—walls, water, rations—but far less often as a question of mental preparedness.
Protocols, Culture & Everyday Negotiations
From these lived experiences, several recurring themes emerge. Though seemingly simple, they prove essential to communal shelter resilience:
Shared space is not personal space. What is permissible at home might not be in a communal environment. Adaptability is key.
Mind the senses. From pungent meals to cigarettes, what comforts one can distress another. Respect, not rules alone, holds communities together.
Noise isn’t just a nuisance. Sleep, conversation, laughter—all have a new meaning under stress. Sensitivity matters.
Digital etiquette exists. Even scrolling reels at full volume in a corner can spark discontent.
Behaviour is a coping mechanism. What may seem odd or confrontational may, in truth, be trauma playing out in real time.
Embracing Diversity Before the Drill
European cities today are rich in cultural diversity. This is a strength—but in high-stress situations, differences can also lead to unintended misunderstandings.
That is why more than drills may be needed. Community-based platforms—neutral, inclusive, participatory—can provide spaces for neighbours to meet, exchange perspectives, and develop shared expectations. These are not exercises in security enforcement, but in resilience co-production.
Such forums can help communities anticipate not just logistics, but interactions: what to expect, how to communicate, and how to support each other across difference. It may be as simple as deciding who uses which shelter, or as profound as building shared trust before the next siren sounds.
For a Truly Inclusive Total Defence
What these reflections underline is that shelter preparedness cannot be reduced to food kits and evacuation maps alone. If we are to speak of total defence, then it must also mean preparing people—emotionally, socially, and ethically—to live together in unfamiliar, constrained, and sometimes frightening circumstances.
Preparedness is not only about withstanding an external threat, but about managing our internal responses—about learning to live in close proximity, to honour others’ space, and to make difficult choices without judgment.
The shelter should protect us not only from conflict, but from division. That, ultimately, is how we strengthen societal resilience: with doors that close for safety, but minds that remain open.