A Society That Doesn’t Grieve Looks Like Germany
How does a society that doesn’t grieve look? Someone recently asked me this, and my answer was straightforward: it looks like Germany.
If you’re German and reading this, I understand if you feel uncomfortable, even defensive, and want to stop right here. I’m not here to force you to read on, but I invite you to take a deep breath, stay open, and, if you’re curious, continue this exploration with me.
Germany, like many societies with significant historical trauma, often leans towards resilience and efficiency, sometimes at the expense of emotional processing. The cultural focus is on moving forward, producing, and avoiding prolonged displays of sorrow. At first glance, this might appear like strength, but beneath the surface, unprocessed grief festers. It becomes invisible, but it’s felt everywhere: in moments of burnout, loneliness, and a sense of disconnect that colors the social fabric.
In many ways, not grieving creates separation. A society that doesn’t grieve becomes individualistic, cold, and disconnected. There’s a kind of empathy that’s only possible when we acknowledge our own pain, and by doing so, we can recognize and hold space for the pain of others. When we can’t touch our grief, we can’t access this empathy, so society hardens. People become hyper-rational, “square,” as if locked in their heads rather than living from the heart.
This absence of empathy has nothing to do with people’s intentions or inherent nature—it stems from the inability to truly feel and process emotion. Grieving grounds us in our bodies, in our hearts. It helps us reconnect with our full humanity and, in doing so, reconnect with each other. There is a coldness in German society, and it’s not just the weather; it’s the coldness of emotions locked away, of grief that has no place to go.
The practice of grief literally warms one’s heart, softens the edges, and opens doors to compassion. Imagine a society where grief was a shared, collective practice—where spaces for mourning and remembering were honored as essential to community. We could find a society rich in empathy, resilience, and connection. If we are brave enough to create that space, to reintroduce grief into the heart of society, we’re also creating the possibility of a kinder, warmer world.
In my work with Germans in their 30s, one sentiment comes up time and again: many have never heard their grandparents or parents talk openly about World War II. The trauma of that time, while deeply present, is often left unspoken, locked away behind walls of silence. This silence is significant. When a nation cannot or will not talk about traumatic experiences, it’s a signal that these events have not been fully processed, integrated, or grieved.
Avoiding grief keeps us from facing painful truths. For nations like Germany—and others that call themselves “powerful”—where history holds profound trauma, grief becomes a doorway to empathy and accountability—a chance to acknowledge past harm and integrate, both within and beyond the national identity. But grieving also asks something uncomfortable: it invites us to take responsibility. And for nations that consider themselves powerful, this can be daunting. To confront history through grief is to risk unraveling the narratives of strength or righteousness that many countries cling to.
Imagine if Germany, and other « powerful » nations, opened themselves to collective grief for these unresolved histories. This shift could transform what power means—not as a capacity to dominate, but as a willingness to feel deeply, to bear witness, and to forge connections through shared humanity. A nation willing to grieve would be a nation capable of unlocking empathy, allowing generations to connect not only with the losses in their own lineage but also with those impacted by their country’s past. Starting with this obvious grief—the unspoken trauma of World War II—could open the heart, both individually and collectively, making space for a more connected and compassionate society.
Imagine if grief were not only a private experience but a shared cultural practice woven into the very fabric of society. For Germany—and any nation with a history of trauma and transformation—collective grief could become a pathway toward deeper connection, healing, and responsibility. But this vision goes beyond official Memorial Days, remembrance monuments, or documentaries. A grieving nation would normalize grief as an ongoing, lived process that everyone can access. Here’s what this could look like:
Community spaces for grief: Across neighborhoods, libraries and community centers could serve as gathering spaces for regular grief circles, led by trained grief facilitators. These spaces would be open for anyone experiencing loss—whether personal, ancestral, or historical. By providing places where grief is welcomed and shared, society can break the isolation that often surrounds it, transforming grief into a collective, supportive practice.
Grief-informed healthcare: In a grieving nation, the healthcare system would view grief not as an illness, but as a natural, essential process. Grief would be destigmatized within medical and mental health care, and practitioners would be trained to support people through complex emotions rather than simply addressing symptoms. Recognizing the impact of suppressed grief on mental and physical health, grief work would be an integral part of wellness.
Early education on grief: Schools would incorporate grief education into their curriculum, teaching young people that grief is a natural human response, not something to avoid or repress. Children would learn about the full range of emotions that come with grief and acquire tools to navigate these feelings. This early education would foster a generation that views grief as a part of life, reducing shame and fear around loss.
Workplace policies that acknowledge grief: Employers would create policies that recognize grief as a legitimate experience, whether due to personal loss, social trauma, or community impact. Paid grief leave, flexible work options, and spaces for processing loss would be part of workplace culture, allowing employees to show up as whole people rather than compartmentalizing their emotions.
Regular collective grief rituals: Beyond national remembrance events, a grieving nation could create regular, accessible rituals for collective grief. These might be seasonal gatherings, commemorations, or observances where communities come together to honor both personal and collective losses. These rituals would become a living practice, helping people reconnect with each other and with their shared history.
Public acknowledgment of ancestral grief: Finally, a nation that grieves would engage in a continuous, honest acknowledgment of historical wounds and injustices. Governments and institutions could hold space for these truths through public discussions, educational programs, and shared rituals of remembrance, making space for people to reckon with and honor the past. By integrating grief into public life, society would foster resilience, empathy, and the ability to move forward together with a fuller understanding of its collective identity.
In a world where grief is embraced as a shared, daily practice, nations wouldn’t just look inward; they would also develop the empathy needed to look outward. For Germany—and any country with a complex and impactful history—true grieving would mean not only facing its own past but also recognizing how its actions continue to affect others globally. Grieving, at its core, is about opening the heart and taking responsibility for harm caused, intentionally or not. When a nation embraces grief, it cultivates empathy and accountability, understanding that a conscious approach to its past can help guide a more compassionate future.
Imagine a world where countries lead with this open-hearted approach, fostering relationships grounded in empathy and awareness. By honoring and integrating grief, these societies would become examples of global responsibility, not shying away from their histories but transforming them into bridges for connection, healing, and growth.
In the end, grief isn’t just an individual or national process; it’s a bridge linking us to one another across borders, histories, and generations. A nation that grieves is a nation that heals—and, in doing so, holds space for others to heal as well.
