I am departing Buenos Aires for the second time after spending a week consulting with the community regarding the ongoing crisis and trauma that came about as a result of the AMIA bombing in 1994, the single deadliest antisemitic attack in more than half a century.
Buenos Aires is a large city where neighborhoods, including the Jewish areas, provide some quiet retreat from the traffic and noise of a large city with a European atmosphere. Part of my time here was meeting with rabbinic leaders and educators to discuss the work of the crisis team with whom I’ve been working. There is something of an Old World feeling in these communities, with people moving a bit slower and with a greater degree of interpersonal modesty. That is to say, I interacted with people who accomplish a lot but draw little attention to themselves. This can be beneficial when it comes to addressing trauma situations, when the private lives of individuals and families have been disrupted. When gossip is curtailed and spreading rumors is frowned upon, people are more willing to seek support for life event crises. When communities tend to pry and have an interest in each other’s business, what can begin as a sense of community support can become a sense of invasiveness. This is one major reason why I teach my students and interventionists, and why they in turn teach the institutions and groups that turn to them for crisis management that “rumor control is damage control.” Taking too much interest in the details and unpleasant features of another person’s tragedy is seldom helpful. It leads to people comparing notes about whose version of the situation is correct and, like a Norman Rockwell painting, by the time the circulated news gets back to its originators, it has become distorted and convoluted. Often, what gets back to the injured victims and survivors of a tragedy adds to their pain. “Is that what people are saying about what happened?” “Why are they saying the stroke was an attempted suicide?” “Why did they say that the father deserted his family after the accident? He was undergoing major surgery after the accident.” Committing yourself to not repeating information which may not be accurate is a healthy step toward curtailing rumors from spreading. And rumor control truly is damage control.
Out there in Buenos Aires, an interesting hurdle in conferring with some of the rabbis was explaining the rationale for a formal crisis team. Some of them shared that the community is often so reserved and gossip-avoidant that many crisis situations do not get talked about beyond the circle of the people who need to be involved. Those rabbis were intrigued when we discussed percentages and statistics. We held several meetings with large groups, including revered clergy leaders, men who dedicate themselves to guiding their congregants and disciples yet who often know little about some of the personal and family tragedies. They might have officiated at funerals or visited the sick, yet may be completely unaware that the ripple effect of trauma can linger at home and beyond. In one conference, I asked how a tragic death was handled, and after reviewing the correct medical and halachic protocols which were adhered to, I asked what services were offered to the surviving family members. “We respect their privacy and if we are not approached for more help, we leave it that.”
This led to some workshops on broadening the scope of pastoral care and increased education on how thoughts, emotions, behavior, and even spiritual functioning can be a part of the trauma experience. As the community grows more aware of how suffering can remain private, but how sincere, focused, and discrete support and guidance can make the difference between recovery versus a calcification of the symptoms, they are learning to balance their need for privacy with an emerging quest for improved mental hygiene and healthy ways to adapt in the aftermath of trauma. We pray that no one in our world experiences crisis and trauma, but having a system in place is a positive step for every community. I am glad that in Buenos Aires they are learning from our efforts, but we can learn from them as well. n
Rabbi Dr. Dovid Fox is a forensic and clinical psychologist, and director of Chai Lifeline Crisis Services. To contact Chai Lifeline’s 24-hour crisis helpline, call 855-3-CRISIS or email crisis@chailifeline.org. Learn more at www.chailifeline.org/crisis.
