How to Heal Society's Wounds: Zdeněk Jan Weber on Trauma and the Search for Unity
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We live in a time when our society is divided, full of conflict, and it isn't easy to have a genuine dialogue. Much of this stems from unresolved trauma — both personal and collective. That's precisely what I discussed with my guest on the Talks 21 podcast, Zdeněk Weber — Director of the Institute for Healing and Prevention of Trauma and founder of the projects Síla duše and Mužský kruh.
Zdeněk believes that the wounds we carry don't have to be obstacles — they can become sources of growth and strength. If we give them space to heal, the path opens to restoring relationships and to greater unity in society. In our conversation, we discussed the importance of admitting our own vulnerability, the process of recovery following difficult experiences, and how to bridge the gaps between different perspectives in today's polarised times.
Key takeaways from the conversation
Why Is Our Society So Divided
Karel:
Dear friends, welcome to the recording of Talks 21. My guest today is Zdeněk Weber. Hello, Zdeňku.
Zdeněk Jan Weber is the Director of the Institute for Healing and Prevention of Trauma, founder of the organisations Síla duše and Mužský kruh, and a lecturer in transparent circular communication and trauma-informed approaches.
Today we live in a highly complex and divided society — a society in conflict, unable to engage in dialogue and to listen. One reason for these problems is untreated trauma. People are neither willing nor able to hear and often refuse, at any cost, to admit they might make a mistake. Yet we know we are all fallible and errors are inevitable.
Zdeňek, what do we do about it? What would you, as an expert, recommend in today’s world?
Zdeněk:
It is already complex to acknowledge that unfavourable historical circumstances shape our personal, family, and collective lives. Accepting that their consequences still act today — creating tension within ourselves, in our relationships, or in our attitude toward life and its phenomena — is a significant challenge.
Experts in social and mental health are aware of and acknowledge this. As a society, however, we often fail to realise that the undigested consequences of past events influence the quality of our relationships and dialogue — sometimes long-past — and shape our present. Even this step alone, admitting it, is courageous. But it is precisely what allows us to process those consequences and learn from them.
We claim to learn from crises and difficult events, but in reality, we often fail to give ourselves the time to do so. We constantly hurry forward and don't stop to truly absorb demanding periods — whether in personal, family, or social life.
Karel:
We're aware that after physical strain, it's necessary to rest, allow for regeneration, and even physiotherapy so that one can continue. On the psychological level, we vastly underestimate this.
Zdeněk:
The word 'trauma' has become somewhat overused. I prefer to speak about the consequences of adverse events, circumstances, or experiences we have gone through — whether as individuals or as a collective.
Just as the physical body needs significant regeneration and support after strain, our subtler parts — the emotional, affective, and mental domains — also require their specific regeneration after major events that may have lasted a long time.
If this regeneration doesn't occur, the inner fabric of society remains out of tune, incoherent. And that then manifests in social phenomena, symptoms, and the sphere of social health. Social health is therefore fundamentally influenced by the consequences of past, often post-traumatic events.
Karel:
This can be a critical topic. If we imagine that there is an inherent, untreated conflict in society, then it's very easy for someone to come, pluck that sensitive string, manipulate people, and gain political power.
Zdeněk:
I think some people in positions of power are not trauma-informed — or, conversely, they are, but unfortunately, they abuse it. That is very immoral and unethical. These individuals are aware of the sensitive points in society and can act on them in ways that activate the entire society.
A trauma-informed politician is someone who realises that vulnerable spots exist in society and must be approached with great sensitivity — not through polarising stances, opinions, or rash decisions. Because ordinary society is always, to some degree, influenced by unfavourable developmental circumstances. Some experience them more, some less — and polarisation, in a specific healthy measure, is natural.
Karel:
We definitely don't want a society that agrees on everything — we've been there, too. A degree of polarisation is natural and necessary. I see it this way: something happens, society disagrees, a clash of opinions arises. But then there must come a calm and renewed alignment of people.
If a crack remains between them and politics deepens and widens it, that's an absolute disaster.
Zdeněk:
Interpersonal relationships can be explained. Let's say we're in a harmonious state. Then disharmonious circumstances come, and those inevitably happen in life. They occur in nature, in our relationships, at work… they happen and must happen.
In addition to harmony and disharmony, there's a third element I discuss in my work — restoration, the process of renewal. We need restorative conditions, because adverse situations in life — whether personal or collective — can never be avoided entirely.
Karel:
I'd further stress — at least from my perspective — that the disharmonious phase is desirable. If we wanted to be in harmony all the time, we would stagnate. Challenges, demanding situations, even the "bad," are essential for our development.
How Untreated Trauma Affects Us
Zdeněk:
We cannot definitively avoid trauma. Adverse, painful, or complex circumstances come and affect us. They invite us to grow, and at the same time they wound us. And these wounds — both in the individual and in society — require restoration.
The problem is that today we lack sufficient restorative conditions and approaches that would enable us to integrate these wounds and grow through them. Medicine alone does not ensure this.
Disharmony truly brings innovation, as you say. But innovation also requires a process of renewal. We cannot innovate without also restoring what has been lost. We constantly move in the circle of harmony — disharmony — restoration, but it is precisely the restorative part that is most neglected today.
Karel:
In fact, the first trauma is birth—a perfect example.
Zdeněk:
Let's look at birth. It's a topic your wife works with — and I'm glad she does. Birth is a huge challenge — for both mother and child. Yet for many people, it is one of the most beautiful moments in life.
Birth always brings a certain level of strain for mother and child. That strain can be addressed so that the birth is safer, more natural, and smoother — allowing for physical and emotional bonding to be preserved. Absolute certainty doesn't exist, of course, but we can try to make the process as gentle as possible. Conversely, excessive interventions and rough procedures can worsen the whole experience.
It's a primary event, an absolutely crucial threshold — for the mother, the child, and the entire family. That's precisely why it's important to minimise trauma that could influence a whole life. The consequences of birth trauma can persist throughout a person's life.
Stanislav Grof devoted himself to this topic and showed how enormous an influence undigested, unhealed consequences of birth trauma can have on the nervous system and a person's stability.
Birth is, therefore, a moment that can be supported preventively and then restored. Thanks to that, we can learn from it, grow, and become strong beings. Birth can give us a powerful ignition for life — or weaken us right at the beginning and significantly shape everything that follows.
Karel:
And what might a concrete example of regeneration look like? How can a person open this up? For a viewer unfamiliar with the topic, how can they open up the possibility of finding and processing their past traumas?
Zdeněk:
I wouldn’t actively seek out past trauma. I wouldn't recommend that. But suppose a person experiences psycho-somatic, psychological, or mental challenges and suspects it could relate to their personal, family, or collective history. In that case, they undoubtedly need someone else — ideally within a safe therapeutic relationship where, step by step, they can feel secure and resourced in themselves.
In such an environment, it's possible to tell the story of one's experience of safety in a relationship, thereby supporting the nervous and emotional systems in regeneration. Healing of trauma is actually already contained within the trauma itself — the therapeutic process helps that healing, present within the nervous system, to unfold and surface.
The basic resource for a person is therefore a safe, stable relationship that supports the healing forces within. There are various psychotherapeutic and alternative approaches for this, each in a slightly different way.
Gabor Maté says trauma has two levels. The first is the event, the circumstance, or the complex development itself. The second, even more painful, is that we remained completely alone with what happened — and with what stayed in us afterwards. The fact that we had no one to lean on emotionally and affectively — no one to draw resources from — is often the greater pain than the event itself.
Karel:
That we have no one capable of giving empathy and feeling it with us.
Zdeněk:
Understanding, empathy, and emotional support are natural and instinctive behaviours that all beings exhibit. Adults naturally behave in a trauma-informed way toward children — provided they themselves remain stable and resourced. In our instincts, we carry millions of years of experience on how to behave in demanding situations and how to offer each other support, so our inner world and nervous system can process and digest events.
That's why I say — and Gabor Maté says it too — that the second trauma, often
greater than the event itself, is that we were left entirely alone with what happened.
And that's precisely why we need additional resources: environmental resources, resources for understanding ourselves and what's happening within us, and relational resources — ideally, a therapeutic relationship with someone who has the capacity and understanding to help us heal and complete the consequences of adverse circumstances within ourselves.
So that wounds can become scars. Because trauma is essentially an open wound that hasn't become a scar — that hasn't healed.
Karel:
In this context, it makes sense that a person undergoes a process of acknowledging a particular kind of sorrow. People often say self-pity is destructive. But this isn't self-pity — it's the realisation that we feel sorry for what happened or how things unfolded.
Why Safety Is the Foundation of Healing
Zdeněk:
It unfolds differently — in every case differently — because each person is both universal and unique, even in their healing process. That's very important to grasp. We are universal — we have hands, feet, eyes, ears… We are similar in many ways, yet each of us is unique in our own way. And that also applies to healing. Each person is on their own healing path, even though there is a certain universality in it.
How does it happen? Above all, by seeking sources of safety for oneself. Sources of social safety, physical safety, and mental safety. The nervous system needs to regain a sense of safety again. A person needs to experience again that safety is. Because at its core, trauma is the loss of safety — emotional or physical. That’s why the first and most important resource is to feel safe. To give ourselves time to be in that safety, so the self-healing forces we have inside can slowly activate.
Then we need people who are themselves safe and in a relationship with us. After that, the process unfolds in various ways — through dialogue, emotional experiencing, instinctive reactions, and different mental insights. Some people heal more "from the head down." In therapeutic terms, there are two approaches: top-down, from head to body and emotions (for those who feel safer in reason and the mind); and bottom-up, through the body and experience toward understanding (for those who feel more grounded in the body and in experience).
Both approaches are beneficial for different individuals in various circumstances. Today, a wide variety of therapeutic approaches exists, ranging from bottom-up to top-down. However, a person needs to trust — and begin to trust again — their instinct, which tells them where they feel safe and what suits them. It's like a pharmacy. Different healing methods are like medicines in a pharmacy — not all are suitable for everyone and not always. One needs to seek and find their own path that will support their nervous system and inner world in healing and growth.
It's also necessary to find the right person who will be a supportive resource. I may be a good resource for someone as a therapist, but not for another. We must acknowledge that I can be the right guide only for some.
And then the collective plays a significant role. Wise cultures have always dealt with trauma in community, because for some topics, a couch simply isn't enough.
Karel:
So one option is one-on-one, and the other is within a collective. I can imagine it's again an individual choice — for some, one-on-one feels safer; for others, being in a group where they might blend into the anonymity.
Zdeněk:
It's rather about creating a safe social environment. Say a circle of twenty people where a person slowly, step by step, begins to allow themselves to feel secure. The circle practices principles that create a potential for safety. safety is never absolute; it's always relative. We can create a potential for safety, but it may take time before people feel at ease in the community. Only when they relax can they naturally feel it's time to tell their story.
The most common way trauma was treated, for example, for Vietnam War veterans in America, wasn't only psychiatric but community-based. So-called “safe pockets” were created where veterans could meet with a facilitator or therapist and, gradually and carefully, share their stories. Emotions were connected to them, as well as moral and ethical questions — matters of conscience. The shared process helped them gradually come to terms with those experiences and support one another.
As I say, for some topics, a sofa or an armchair isn't enough. We need the collective. A safe group is like a container that gives the nervous system the feeling that you belong somewhere, that you're socially safe, that it's over, and what happened has passed. Because while the mind may say the adverse circumstances are over, it can take years for that to reach the nervous system. Our emotions and feelings are slower than our minds.
A person, therefore, needs a slow emotional orientation to feel that no repeated threat is truly present. And in some categories of adverse circumstances, repeated threat is the issue. Trust that it won't return is very fragile. That's why we need time, support, social grounding, and orientation to honestly believe that violence or lack of resources are behind us. And that we can begin to return to life anew — to breathe again, to live "normally." Although 'normal' may not be entirely accurate, it aims to restore the nervous system to a natural state.
Karel:
We've been speaking about healing trauma — how to process it once it occurs. Now I ask: what can we do for prevention? How can an individual learn to accept adverse circumstances?
My approach is to see our world and existence as a vast school. I perceive our life as a school for collective consciousness, getting to know itself. I find it interesting to imagine that we are projections of some collective — let's say divine — consciousness. It "projects" each of us with a set of parameters and preferences and sends us into this world to act, communicate, and experience conflicts.
And precisely because we are essentially part of one whole and at the same time separate beings, an enormous potential and space for creativity is born. That's wonderful. On the other hand, conflicts and disharmonies naturally arise.
However, if we approach them in this way, we can gain a deeper understanding of some conflicts or traumas. We can look at them from a distance and say: "Yes, this is happening to me. Why? Because there is something here I'm meant to learn. It's the school."
Why We Sometimes Fear Letting Go of Our Beliefs
Zdeněk:
You describe it beautifully. Within ourselves, to heal adverse circumstances, we need many resources — safe, nourishing, and supportive ones. Because that is precisely what was missing in those circumstances. We lacked resources.
And one of the resources — and you're describing it now — is orientation. For humans, it's not only physical orientation, but mental as well. Understanding. Notice that when you truly understand something, your body reacts — it relaxes, there's a hormonal response, and you feel a sense of joy. The body responds because it has oriented itself to something that previously felt threatening. When we don't understand, we feel disoriented and threatened. Once we know, relief comes.
We humans are more complex — we don't orient only by whether there is safety or threat around us. We orient within very complex, virtual, or imaginative inner environments. We construct and reflect there. And what you described is a crucial resource for healing trauma — understanding, that is, inner orientation.
That's why, in treating psychological trauma, we educate the client. That's what we do: we create trauma-informed education. Psychologists, psychiatrists, and other helping professions come to us and learn the fundamentals of a trauma-informed approach. It helps people orient themselves in what is actually happening inside them.
And just understanding the principles of what's happening in them often brings relief — because they re-orient. Many people feel relief simply from receiving a diagnosis.
Karel:
It's a bit of a paradox — the worst news is no news. Sometimes, even bad news is better than none.
Zdeněk:
Because suddenly — even if it's bad news — you orient yourself in something you previously groped around in. You know how it is. And even if it weren't true at all, perhaps just false information, a brain that believes it feels oriented.
t highlights the immense need we have to understand things and take a clear stance. And the more trauma someone has, the more tightly they hold onto that stance — because in that orientation they find a sense of safety.
Karel:
Yes, but orientation has its dark side — a person can succumb to something too easily simply because they very much want to believe it.
Zdeněk:
Yes. One clings to it as the only firm point they have. They are oriented in a topic, they understand it, and are convinced: "This is how it is, and it cannot be otherwise."
And precisely here, if trauma stands behind it, we stop listening. Because if you suddenly changed your opinion, your source of orientation would collapse. You'd find yourself disoriented.
That's why it is almost impossible to convince someone who clings firmly to their position. For them, that position is a resource for their nervous system — a source of orientation — and thanks to it, they feel "held together."
Karel:
It's a fundamental paradigm. If it didn't hold, the person feels terrible uncertainty.
Zdeněk:
The moment their source of orientation collapses, they feel threatened. That's why, even if you present them with all analytical and scientific arguments, they will cling to their stance even more tightly — because unresolved trauma stands behind it.
And unless that is healed, they cannot relax their grip. They cannot accept the idea that their view is just one of the possible paradigms.
Karel:
This is my enjoyable personal experience. For a long time, I lived in the paradigm of pure randomness. Until I was thirty-four, I was absolutely convinced everything was just chance. Symbols, connections, or signals made no sense. I thought people were extremely irrational — they pick what they like, forget what they don't, and psychologically "cheat" themselves.
Because I hold a master's degree in probability theory and a PhD in stochastic analysis, I have confirmed that belief to myself. That's an interesting example of believing in pure randomness.
But then I began noticing that things weren't quite so random. I dared to test it — even statistically. When I discovered that the paradigm of pure randomness doesn't hold, everything fell into place for me. I had one absolute certainty: that everything is a matter of chance. And anyone who believed otherwise, I deemed an irrational fool.
I remember how arrogant I was about it. Thanks to training in logic and argumentation, I often "steamrolled" the other person in discussions. They had nothing to say — and I left feeling they didn't understand. Today, I know they could have been right. Very often they were. They couldn't express it as well.
For me, it was a radical experience — a complete collapse of a kind of belief. Because even belief in pure randomness, atheism, or a materialist philosophy is, in reality, also a belief, and when that certainty collapses, building an alternative, a new view, is a huge task — one I'm doing to this day.
I don't know whether trauma stood behind it or not. In any case, my advice would be: don't be afraid to go there. Don't be scared to admit a mistake. And my worst experiences showed me this: where you react most negatively — where you say it's complete nonsense and get riled — that's precisely where I'd put an exclamation mark.
How to Listen to Others Better
Zdeněk:
Yes, this touches how we educate children and young people. If we taught them, for example, through multidisciplinary discussion, to hold positions and views — to see things through their own paradigm — while staying slightly open to the fact that their view can evolve, it would be immensely valuable.
We must admit that truth evolves. What I heard you say was: "I am a person who evolves within my own truth. It's not comfortable, but I evolve."
Karel:
Yes, that’s one of the consequences.
Zdeněk:
I have it the same way. Even what I'm saying here may sound different in two years — I'll see some things differently or name them differently because I'm simply evolving. I'm flexible in that evolution. And this we don't do: we lead people to cling tightly to a single paradigm and then repeat it endlessly. As a result, people either resign from the discussion or refrain from entering it altogether.
Dialogue is where we can enrich one another — even if it can be polarising. Yes, polarisation is natural, but trauma makes it extreme. Then we may stop staying in the relationship. We can be polarised on a question without it being extreme. Polarisation is, in fact, the natural character of our mutual relating.
Karel:
Indeed, to a degree, it's even positive.
Zdeněk:
Yes, it brings a certain spice to our lives and to our partnerships.
Karel:
And that’s our difference — that’s evolution.
Zdeněk:
Yes. When you speak from your paradigm, it's a challenge for me to listen. However, if I allow it, it's stimulating — it leads me to express something from my perspective, which looks at the matter from a different angle. We each look at the same elephant from a different side. And together we can know it better.
Karel:
And now comes the question: does a general truth exist or not? Even if it does in some aspects, humans always have different views. As you said, each of us looks at the elephant from a completely different angle and then describes something entirely different.
My considerable experience — and I'd recommend it to everyone, as you said — is to try to look at things from a completely different perspective. To admit it could be otherwise. For me personally, that used to be extremely hard because I was convinced of my truth. Only gradually did I begin to see that reality is more complex.
In this sense, mathematics is actual. Mathematical theory is accurate and unambiguous — axioms are given and conclusions follow, which will be the same for everyone. Perhaps it's a bias among people with an exact education: they think an objective perspective applies universally. But it applies in mathematics — that narrow field — and outside it, it doesn't.
Zdeněk:
You put it beautifully. What we find in therapeutic processes is that these processes are always universal and unique at the same time. Healing processes in people have a universal character — and yet each case is unique.
That's why we need to remain fresh and curious about what's needed here and now. I hear the same in what you said about mathematics: it’s universal, yet in certain moments unique. Universality and uniqueness. Creativity and structure. Polarities dancing together. Yin and yang.
What prevents us from having a genuine dialogue
Karel:
What would you recommend to viewers on their path in this regard? How can we approach personal joy as closely as possible and remain open to other people's perspectives?
I know from my own experience — it's very hard. But there are certainly methods to achieve it. How can we, as people traumatised in various ways, consciously strive to reduce differences and obstacles? And how can we learn to listen to each other a little more?
Because this is what's most lacking in society today.
Zdeněk:
It's a question I don't have a simple, instant answer to. My answer is more in the "not easy" category.
What divides us above all is that we often lack the capacity to acknowledge our own fear, pain, and feelings that lie beneath our behaviour toward others. When we are unwilling or unable to be in a relationship with someone — to enter into dialogue — it's usually because that person, or their topics, touch us deeply. They touch our sore spots that we don't want to feel and aren't willing to admit we have.
Where we have inner pain — and that doesn't mean we directly feel it — we are very reactive. We are separated strongly. At that moment, the reptilian brain is at 100 per cent. And it knows only: devour, survive. Devour, survive. That's often how we function in those situations.
Karel:
In discussion, it's essentially about demeaning and destroying.
Zdeněk:
Yes — that's the reptilian brain at play. It's a freezing energy that sees only: survive, destroy, survive, destroy. A person is highly reactive in that state.
The internet and social networks are an ideal environment today where the reptilian brain can "self-realise." But that creates even greater separation — from our own experiencing and from our shared relationship. And so we begin to look at each other as two objects that feel nothing and experience nothing. In that moment, we can do anything to them. That's total dissociation — complete disconnection from oneself. And that is not the path we want to take.
A person, therefore, needs to resource themselves well — to take care of themselves and their nervous system through proper nutrition, social conditions, nature, and reading. And at the same time listen to their "trinity": common sense, healthy instinct, and healthy interpersonal intuition. Trust them.
Czechs are pretty good at this — we can sometimes enter precisely that healthy common sense, instinct, and intuition, and approach everything with a particular caution, but not with closedness. I can be cautious toward views, but not closed.
We should use "you and they" less and speak more from the "I" position: I feel, I experience, I think. Not: They are wrong, they are idiots, they’re to blame. Because by doing so, we hang our own experience on someone else, and hand them power over us.
Karel:
And of course, we can often be wrong, right?
Zdeněk:
Yes. These are our projections — mostly collective, social projections. And they attach to anyone visible. It can concern you or anyone visible to you. People come and hang their own emotions, feelings, and projections on those persons. They project their weaknesses onto that person, or their own ideas, fantasies, and stories about that person. But those are their stories.
That's why it's essential to take responsibility for what I see, perceive, experience, and how I relate to the world. That's primarily my business. Stop blaming politicians and authorities. Start taking it back. Start owning our own experiences and our own thinking. Speak more in "I" — and at the same time listen to others' "I."
Be more in listening, less in merely hearing. When I listen to you, I don't just hear what you say — I also feel and perceive you as a whole person, inside myself. My body, my nervous system, perceives you. And on a certain level, you perceive me. That's where real listening happens. You could say we mirror each other.
We can practice this in everyday life. Stop. Inhale. Exhale slowly. By doing so, we signal to our nervous system that we're safe. Because when we're in threat, we breathe quickly or very shallowly. But when we inhale consciously and exhale slowly, we give our nervous system a clear signal: you're safe. It's calm, it's fine, nothing is happening. The nervous system is sometimes skittish. And at the moment we breathe consciously, it can begin to feel and perceive more, and not just run.
Karel:
It’s precisely that pause that's key. Very often, the first instinctive reaction is adverse. Stopping and calming down also means a more positive approach.
Zdeněk:
Or an open one. In the face of even a mild threat, our brain tightens, and we get tunnel vision. When the system signals safety, we can open and widen perception. Thanks to that, we can think more comprehensively, communicate more effectively, and listen more attentively.
Resourcing is therefore essential — resourcing toward safety, stability, and orientation. That includes breathwork and surrounding ourselves with supportive conditions — natural, social, and mental — as well as regular practice.
From my perspective, spirituality — the spiritual dimension — is also essential for healing. It doesn't have to be faith in a religious context. Today, many more people relate to spirituality informally, philosophically, or spiritually — they sometimes feel something more, for example, that they are part of nature, of unity, or that something greater than us exists. And they experience it in the body. These natural spiritual experiences are significant because they provide us with the experience of unity once again.
Trauma, in a sense, is a loss of unity — a breakdown, a fragmentation. A person feels dissociated, separated from God, nature, people, and the whole. Spiritual experiences — through meditation, contemplation, walking, mindfulness, and other approaches — when used properly, bring us back to micro-moments of unity, which is very supportive for the nervous system.
Recently, I was at a psychedelic conference in the Ball Game Hall at Prague Castle on the use of psychedelics in treating trauma. The top authorities in psychiatry, psychology, and work with war veterans spoke there. They repeatedly acknowledged that psychedelics bring precisely these spiritual experiences that help the nervous system and mind cross the usual paradigm and relax into something greater.
A person thus reconnects with resources previously unavailable — inner resources of a holistic kind. These experiences then have a profoundly healing effect.
Karel:
That's an excellent recommendation. It's not about universal applicability, but I call it slackline meditation. You stand on a long slackline and try to maintain physical balance, which is a demanding task. At the same time, you enter a state of relaxation and connection. It's the opposite of the classic approach, which suggests focusing on one point. Here, it's rather about soft focus and release.
The Role Spirituality Plays in Healing
Zdeněk:
Exactly. In my view, after twenty years of working with people — both groups and individuals — is that when people listen to their healthy instincts, they gravitate toward activities that, for a moment, bring them into the experience of wholeness and presence, often also beyond their comfort zone. That's precisely where they touch wholeness.
I played hockey for 25 years, and I am convinced most people do sports — unconsciously, intuitively — mainly because for a while they feel unity and presence. On the ice, you can't be anywhere but here and now. Even though it's an intense movement, you are totally immersed in the present. In that wu wei, you are absolutely now. Movement and presence merge. And that is a very healing experience.
The problem is that our Western society often attempts to achieve presence and flow through extremes, and these extremes then bring about side effects. Wise cultures — typically Eastern ones — created approaches that weren't so extreme. They were slow, but led to a lasting experience of presence, flow, unity, and wholeness. Tai Chi is practised for a lifetime — you practice and gradually your nervous system and whole being return to experiencing unity and flow. And you have it for good.
We, on the other hand, tend to seek experiences — often a bit extreme. Yet, for example, walking a slackline is no longer an extreme activity, but a beautiful one that's not about fear, but about focus and presence.
Nature itself brings presence. Simply by being in it, it has a temple-like potential — it brings a sense of calm, harmonisation, and presence. In those moments, we touch God — even if we do it intuitively.
We have greatly institutionalised spirituality in modern society, but spirituality is natural, instinctive, and intuitive. Humans are inclined to it automatically. Czechs are labelled as one of the most atheistic nations, but in reality, it may not be that way at all.
Karel:
Yes, in fact, we're very interested in spiritual questions.
Zdeněk:
People naturally and intuitively seek opportunities to be present, in the flow, to be here and now. They don't even have to name it that way — they do it instinctively.
Karel:
We touched on the differing approaches of Western and Eastern civilisations. It is also evident in science and knowledge. A typical Western scientist is often narrowly specialised — they go deep in one area but miss the surrounding connections.
The shift toward multi-disciplinary synthesis is very much needed. Connecting rationality with intuition or emotions — that's the greatest strength, in my view. And there is still a lot of work ahead of us. Perhaps things are moving in the right direction: alternative forms of education are emerging, and we have a better understanding of how to educate, even if it's not yet widely applied in practice.
What impact can small changes have on the whole
Zdeněk:
That's important to say. Good things often happen from the bottom up, from small events that have an invisible impact on the whole. Here, in this conversation, we are not separate from the whole — we are part of it. The ideas we share are thus already part of the whole.
Even if what we talk about isn't mainstream, a lot of good is happening at the micro level. It's often not visible, but these are the foundations of what will come next. Micro-events, smaller professional gatherings, conferences — all these things have a significant influence.
We tend to believe that only what is significant and visible matters. But real change often grows from small events that manifest later — perhaps even when we're no longer here. Once they start fitting together, they transform into something that prevails because it makes sense to people and is natural.
We're returning to naturalness. For a long time, we dealt with what is "normal," but now we are again seeking what is truly natural, not only in relation to ourselves, but also to technology and the world around us.
Karel:
Yes, as you said, the path of micro-changes has a fundamental impact. Big things that are, on the contrary, constructed have their limits. And I say this even to myself: I was always an exact thinker who believed that structure and system need to be devised so that everything works.
Today, it's apparent that those supposedly big things created from the top down can appear impressive at first glance, but once they're imposed on society by force, they're easily abused. Even the best ideas can, over time, go awry. Not that they were bad at the core — implementation was often necessary — but they tend to gradually degenerate once they're fixed into limiting rules.
I'll provide an example, albeit a slightly controversial one: the European Union. Originally, it was a fantastic project that helped prevent further wars and support cooperation in Europe. It was very successful — thanks to it, Europe experienced a long period without wars. But today it has become more of a bureaucratic behemoth.
How to Hold Dialogue When We Disagree
Zdeněk:
That's very interesting. Consider World War II: the trauma. Then came regeneration and renewal. Out of that renewal, the European Union emerged.
The EU emerged based on its relationships. States and their leaders realised that the only way to prevent another war was to maintain a relationship — to perceive each other, listen to each other, and understand the importance of our uniqueness while sharing what we have in common. We share a continent, but each of us is unique in our own way.
If we remain in dialogue, talk to one another, and respect each other, that's the most basic prevention of any destructive events.
Karel:
Appreciating difference, respecting it, and supporting it — why not?
Zdeněk:
However, within the EU as we know it today, that original DNA remains intact. However, the people who began operating within the system tend instead to apply norms and rules uniformly as if they were no longer in a relationship. They stop being in a relationship and begin heading toward dissociation. And people feel that.
Karel:
Something that had deep substance gradually turned into a set of rules. Initially, that set was created with good intentions, but once excessive restrictions are established, weaknesses begin to show where the system is imperfect. Those then swell, and the whole system starts to degenerate.
Even worse is the variant where sets of rules are intentionally created poorly, and no one then closely monitors them.
Zdeněk:
We're actually back at the beginning — at the topic of healing adverse developmental circumstances and their consequences. The first step is to have the willingness, courage, and capacity to admit that such a thing exists and that it influences our behaviour.
The EU and its leadership are also affected by collective adverse circumstances. If it has representatives who aren't trauma-informed, then they often cannot admit they themselves may be "agents of trauma." They may have ideals, but fail to realise: Look, we're losing the fundamental aspects. We're making mistakes. We're disconnecting. We're ceasing to perceive, to be in relationship; we're losing the capacity for plurality.
Because as the sense of threat increases, the capacity for perception decreases — and thus radicality and reactivity grow. That can also play out at the EU level. In a relationship, by contrast, there is a higher degree of plurality. We have a greater ability to listen to even views we disagree with, while recognising that they are the voices of a particular group of people that need to be integrated into the whole, not excluded.
Once we begin, in a collective, to exclude and suppress fundamentally, we keep repeating the same mistake.
Karel:
That's right — you can't exclude and label anyone.
Zdeněk:
You can try, but you're going against yourself. It's a sign you don't have the capacity to lead a coherent dialogue with someone who holds a different opinion. Meanwhile, people in political parties represent large numbers of people. We must have respect and regard for those who elected that person — even if we don't like how they speak or their stance on certain issues. They hold a position often stemming from painful experience, from trauma.
To suppress them and not be in relationship with them means not being in relationship with the millions they represent. And that is trauma.
Karel:
It's exciting — we've actually returned to what we said at the beginning: that one of the fundamental reasons for the division of society, of the whole, may be personal trauma.
And for me, that implies one essential thing. Even in situations where we have a clear opinion and are certain, it's necessary to allow for doubt. To try to look even at the person I disagree entirely with — whether I call them a "moron," "idiot," or anything else — and seek where there might be a point, a kernel of truth. And to try to build precisely that bridge — a communicative bridge.
When Conflict Can Turn into Understanding
Zdeněk:
We also need trauma-informed media. Because information that enters society is often polarised, extreme, and hard-edged.
I witnessed a conversation between two people who had met at a demonstration and were insulting each other — each holding a hard, opposing stance. But then they were seated in a safe environment, in a calm setting, and given tea or coffee, and allowed to settle.
And at that moment, they were able to conduct a completely natural dialogue. Suddenly, they began to find common ground: 'I'm more hard-line here; you are too, but here we have something that connects us.'
Two people who were almost ready to attack each other on the street and were throwing stones were suddenly able, in calm and safety, to talk, hear each other, perceive each other, hold dialogue, and form a relationship.
Karel:
And they were able to see what led the other to their opinion. Something like: "I understand you, I disagree with you, but I respect you."
Zdeněk:
And especially if it's a representative of a political party elected to parliament, we need to handle relationships across that spectrum in a very trauma-informed way. Because even if they represent radical or unpleasant voices, they are still the voices of many citizens who experience things and carry their own histories.
If we reject, denounce, slander, or ban them, we don't help ourselves. On the contrary, it turns against us.
Karel:
In this context, I would like to mention Nadine Strossen’s book, Hate. The author, originally an economist and philosopher of Jewish origin, explains why fighting hatred often causes even greater traumas. When something is banned, hushed up, and smothered, it ends up being much worse than an open approach and the effort to heal trauma through openness.
Zdeněk:
Certainly, intense negative emotions like hatred require specific regulation. They need a safe space where they can settle a bit and where people or entire communities can discover what they're actually experiencing and feeling.
But you can't simply ban emotions. You can't ban experiencing. You can only push it aside and keep it there — but that requires energy, including social energy. And behind every experience there's a story; there's feeling; there's something essential.
They say the greatest enemy is the deep story of people, communities, or societies that has never been told. We see only the symptoms, only the lights — not what lies behind them.
That leads us to grow not only intellectually but inwardly — as persons. To better understand the mechanisms of vulnerability in our lives and to practice more mindful and safer dialogues where we can truly listen. It doesn't mean we'll always be in harmony — but that we can hear.
We should integrate these principles more into education and everyday life, rather than leaving symptoms and problems to experts alone. Our activities are designed for ordinary people, promoting a social atmosphere. We often push many life difficulties off onto experts — but we ourselves need to start owning them and seeking ways together, with common sense and a human approach.
How Our Environment Influences Learning New Things
Karel:
We could extend this to the principle of education. Yes, we need people to think critically. However, it's also essential to develop "emotional thinking" — an awareness
of one's own trauma — and to acquire some resilience within the educational system.
And ideally, tools for healing trauma. That's another component we don't talk about much yet — unlike critical thinking.
Zdeněk:
We can create either re-traumatising education — the kind that returns people to a state of threat — or restorative education. The latter leads people into safety, particularly social safety, and into supportive conditions. It has been proven that a person who feels safe learns much more easily. Conversely, a person under threat learns markedly worse.
If you have a bad relationship with your teacher, learning becomes simply more difficult. That's why we need to continually establish restorative conditions that are based on safety, boundaries, and relational safety simultaneously.
You mentioned critical thinking, and I'll add social and relational intelligence.
Karel:
Combining rational thinking and mathematical knowledge is extremely important and should not be underestimated. On the other hand, it's equally important to have a developed social and emotional component.
I stress this because I myself have the life experience of standing on the rational side for a long time. I was once asked, 'What would you advise your 21-year-old self?' My answer would be: I'd advise myself not to get locked into purely rational thinking, but to remain open to other perspectives.
Looking back, I know this one-sidedness was, in a way, traumatising for me. I didn't want it; I felt bad about it, but I preferred to focus solely on rational reasoning.
Zdeněk:
Yes, that's absolutely legitimate: you felt safe. In the rational realm — where things work for us — we feel secure. Where we're vulnerable, we prefer to move away.
Karel:
And it works the other way around, too. Many people have a block against thinking itself — they prefer just doing, mainly not thinking. They create a block that is, in its way, also trauma, just on the opposite side.
Zdeněk:
Exactly. I experienced this in my own education. All those sciences are beautiful — mathematics is gorgeous, as are most subjects taught in elementary school. One naturally likes to learn things about their country in civics or about history. These are, in fact, excellent subjects.
However, if someone delivers them in threatening, linear, and dull conditions that are unfavourable, most children will struggle. They switch off, Karel. They switch off to mathematics, to learning — they simply close.
However, when teaching occurs in relationally and socially safe conditions — when a genuine relationship develops between teacher and students — natural curiosity suddenly awakens. And where that relationship is absent, the willingness to learn is also lacking.
Karel:
As with everything, it depends on our approach. In the very same thing, we can find immense joy and positive euphoria — or it can be extremely hard for us.
To conclude, I wish for all of us — viewers and listeners — to be able to seek joy, open ourselves to creative things, and try to look even at what we dislike from the other side. Perhaps we'll discover something new.
Zdeněk:
Yes, and I wish for all of us that in our lives and in our communities we create and activate restorative and regenerative conditions — mental, communal, social, and personal. Conditions that allow us to return to harmony.
Because harmony and disharmony will continue to alternate, and precisely for that reason, we need to have these restorative conditions available.
Karel:
Yes. And let's also emphasise that even disharmony is okay.
Zdeněk:
It is. Let's not fear it. Look — conflicts in marriage or partnership can be a great thing if we know how to restore the relationship. If we can't, it ends in tragedy because we remain in disharmony. But when there's the capacity for restoration — the ability to talk it through — the relationship usually grows.
And that applies both in personal relationships and at the collective level. It's actually always the same. We are all just people creating communities — whether a family or a state. The same principles apply there as in everyday relationships.
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