Learning from Bosnia: Supporting Ukrainian Veterans Through the Long Road of Healing

When the bombs stopped falling over Bosnia in 1995, many believed the healing could finally begin. Three decades later, we know that for hundreds of thousands of survivors, the war never truly ended—it simply moved inward, into minds and hearts still carrying the weight of what they witnessed and endured.

As we continue supporting Ukrainian veterans returning from the front lines, there's profound wisdom to be found in Bosnia's journey through trauma and recovery. The numbers tell a story that every veteran's family, every healthcare worker, and every person who cares about Ukraine's future needs to understand.

The Invisible Wounds That Don't Heal With Time

In Bosnia, researchers discovered something both heartbreaking and crucial: war doesn't just end when the fighting stops. Years after peace agreements were signed, mental health surveys revealed that between 10% and 35% of the population still struggled with PTSD. That's not hundreds or thousands of people—that's potentially over half a million adults in Bosnia alone, still living with the daily reality of intrusive memories, sleepless nights, and overwhelming anxiety.

Think about what this means for Ukraine. Every soldier who has held the line in Bakhmut, every medic who has worked under fire, every person who has lived through the siege of Mariupol—they carry experiences that won't simply fade with time. The Bosnian experience shows us that without proper support, these invisible wounds can persist for decades.

Not All Trauma Is the Same

One of the most important lessons from Bosnia is that different people need different kinds of help. The research revealed patterns that should guide how we think about supporting Ukrainian veterans:

Women in heavily bombarded areas showed particularly high rates of PTSD—nearly 30% compared to just 4% among those who hadn't experienced intense conflict. For Ukrainian women who served on the front lines or lived through months of shelling, this suggests we need specialized approaches that recognize their unique experiences.

Healthcare professionals faced their own particular burden. In Bosnia, 18% of family doctors developed PTSD while continuing to care for others. Ukrainian medics—from battlefield surgeons to nurses in Kyiv's hospitals during air raids—have been carrying this same dual weight: processing their own trauma while being the healers their communities desperately need.

Refugees and displaced people experienced even higher rates of PTSD than those who stayed home. This pattern holds crucial implications for the millions of Ukrainians who have had to rebuild their lives in new countries, often while not knowing if they'll ever return home.

The Long Journey of Recovery

Perhaps the most sobering finding from Bosnia is how difficult recovery can be, even with professional help. Studies following survivors over many years found that symptoms often persisted despite treatment. In specialized PTSD centers across the region, 86% of patients still met diagnostic criteria for PTSD after a full year of therapy.

This isn't a failure of the survivors or even necessarily of the treatment—it's a testament to just how deeply war trauma can affect the human psyche. It tells us that supporting Ukrainian veterans isn't a short-term mission but a generational commitment.

The Ripple Effects of Unhealed Trauma

The Bosnian experience reveals how PTSD affects not just the individual but entire families and communities. Children of veterans with PTSD were found to be nearly 18 times more likely to experience emotional problems and four times more likely to have behavioral issues. Night fears, depression, and anxiety became the inherited legacy of war for a generation of young people who never saw combat themselves.

The economic impact was equally staggering. People with PTSD generated 63% higher healthcare costs, and families often provided hundreds of hours of unpaid care to their traumatized loved ones. Most heartbreakingly, advocacy groups reported that around 900 veterans died by suicide in the years following the war—a tragic reminder of what's at stake when we fail to provide adequate support.

Hope for Ukraine: Learning From Bosnia's Journey

While these statistics paint a sobering picture, they also illuminate the path forward. Bosnia's experience doesn't just show us the magnitude of the challenge—it shows us what Ukraine needs to do differently.

Start early and plan for the long term. Mental health support for Ukrainian veterans can't wait until the war ends, and it can't end a few years after peace comes. The healing journey measured in decades, not months.

Recognize that one size doesn't fit all. A combat veteran from the Donbas front lines needs different support than a refugee mother who fled Kharkiv, who needs different support than a military nurse who worked in field hospitals. Effective programs must be as diverse as the experiences they're addressing.

Support the whole family. When we help a veteran heal, we're not just helping one person—we're potentially breaking a cycle that could affect their children and grandchildren. Programs that include family counseling, educational support for children, and practical assistance for caregivers are investments in Ukraine's future.

Integrate mental health with practical support. Trauma doesn't exist in a vacuum. Veterans struggling with PTSD also need help finding employment, stable housing, and healthcare. Mental health recovery happens more easily when basic needs are met.

Our Commitment to Ukraine's Heroes

The veterans we serve today carry not just their own experiences but the hopes of an entire nation. They've stood between Ukraine and those who would destroy it, often at enormous personal cost. Bosnia's story reminds us that their service doesn't end when they leave the battlefield—and neither should our support for them.

We know the road ahead is long. We know that some wounds will take years or even decades to heal. But we also know that with compassionate, sustained support, healing is possible. Every veteran we help today is a father or mother, son or daughter, who can break the cycle of trauma for their family. Every person we support in their journey toward recovery is someone who can contribute to rebuilding the Ukraine they fought to protect.

The statistics from Bosnia aren't just numbers—they're a call to action. They tell us that the mental health crisis facing Ukrainian veterans is real, substantial, and long-lasting. But they also tell us that with proper support, understanding, and resources, we can help our heroes find their way back to peace.

Ukraine's veterans have already shown us what courage looks like on the battlefield. Now it's our turn to show them what courage looks like in the long journey of healing that lies ahead.

At Viburnum Bridge Foundation, we're committed to walking this entire journey with Ukraine's veterans and their families. Because when we support those who defended Ukraine, we're not just healing individuals—we're helping build the foundation for Ukraine's future.