One Sky, Two Storms:
Tracing Eastern and Western Trauma from the Fields to the Frontlines

So what if the majority of psychology is Western?

We’re all humans. How different can we really be? Emotions are emotions. Trauma is universal.

But so is the weather, and no two storms are the same.

Storms depend on factors like humidity and temperature; terrain features like plains, mountains, and valleys significantly influence their path, strength, and likelihood of occurring. Similarly, land and terrain played a big role in shaping how early humans understood what it meant to live, survive, and suffer.

Early Asia, Agriculture, and Philosophy

Across much of Asia, the landscape was expansive and consisted of wide, flat-surfaced plains and lowlands.¹ As early as 3000–2000 BCE, rivers like the Yangtze, Ganges, and Mekong and their fertile banks allowed for vast river-based agricultural systems like wet rice cultivation.² But these systems were greatly labour-intensive, and necessitated a collective, coordinated effort from the community.³ This interdependence and synchronised labour effort shaped hierarchical societies with strong social norms, contributing to collectivist ideals like group cohesion, group trust, social order, and the importance of group harmony.^{4, 5}

These values would be reflected in philosophical thought of the time. Confucian scholars around 500 BCE considered agriculture and its practices as a basis of social order.⁶ Confucian principles also reinforced concepts like conformity, obedience to hierarchy, and group harmony, with identity seen as relational and role-based.⁷ In India, as early as 1500 BCE, Dharmic traditions and writings highlighted the significance of duty to society, social order, and interconnectedness.⁸ These values provided a cohesive, sustainable framework for communities, though structured through strict hierarchy.

Philosophical frameworks across Asia also portrayed warfare, even when necessary, as morally undesirable and disruptive to social harmony.⁹ By 200 to 400 BCE, foundational texts show that large, unified civilisations like India and China prioritised the maintenance of stability. If war did occur, it was justified by the need to restore order,¹⁰ even when serving political or expansionist aims.

Early Euro-America, Farming, and Freedom

In early Europe (800 BCE) and America (2000 BCE), however, land was diverse. Lowlands, highlands, plains, and plateaus separated regions. Mountain ranges drew natural boundaries between communities, and rivers that (quite literally) drew lines across large areas were used as natural dividers of the landscape and between nations.¹¹ In contrast to vast plains with large communities in Asia, this type of terrain contributed to the development of many small, isolated groups of people. These separated groups evolved distinct political and cultural identities from one another.¹¹

This land was also highly suitable for wheat and livestock farming, which was often managed individually by farmers or families within these distinct groups.¹² Self-sufficiency in this type of agriculture was encouraged, and often the norm as early as 500 BCE.¹³ Major themes in western philosophy were also shaped by these values; Socrates, Plato, and Aristotle (470 BCE) explored moral responsibility and self-governance grounded in reason and reflection as an essential part of civic duty, while thinkers like Locke, Kant, and Mill in the 1800s emphasised self-determination, individual rights, and personal freedom.^{14, 15, 16, 17}

War in the West

However, as populations began to increase in these isolated regions, finite resources depleted. This often resulted in the need for expansion and war for survival.¹⁸ Competing desperately for land and resources, states would find themselves in frequent conflict and political instability. This type of necessary but constant rivalry and war, however, created conditions that incentivised innovation, and from the 1700s, the development of war technology increasingly intersected with, and contributed to, the industrialisation of Europe and America.^{19, 20} With this power would come further expansion, war, and colonisation.

But as centuries passed and wars waged on, a new discovery would come to light in the 1900s — soldiers were returning from World War 1 and 2 battlefronts with unusual symptoms. They would relive nightmares with terrifying realism while awake, couldn't sleep, were paranoid and afraid.²¹ It was believed they were concussed, from exploding shells, but many had no physical injury.²² They were seen as pretenders, as cowards who were too weak-minded for war.²³ As a result, some faced harsh punishments or were executed, and veterans that returned home experienced massive stigma.²⁴

But with strong activism and supporting research, the Vietnam War veterans, their allies, and scientific advancement managed a feat that would change the course of psychology — in 1980, PTSD was recognised as a formal disorder in the DSM-III.²⁵ Soon after, western institutions produced trauma models, frameworks, and treatment modalities.

Colonisation in the East

While war and violence shaped trauma across parts of Asia as well, much of it would also stem from relational, familial, authoritarian, and colonial contexts.^{26, 27} Social hierarchies in countries like China and Japan were immovable, and people born into certain roles might be beaten, suppressed, or shamed into obedience.^{28, 29} Emotional suppression, shame, and adherence to duty were common themes.³⁰ In muslim communities, western-style individualism was considered to promote narcissism, selfishness, and a detachment from communal values, and could result in internal and community conflict.^{31, 32} Individual expressions that diverged from the norm might be discouraged out of emphasis for community and unity.

Colonisation saw entire Asian communities being invaded, ruled, and humiliated by foreign powers.³³ Natural resources, like rubber and tin that were indigenous to places like Vietnam, were drained.³³ Existing societal structures like the caste system in India were entrenched and used as tools of colonial control.³⁴ Locals in French Indochina from places like Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia were used as cheap labour.^{33, 35} Deeply rooted beliefs and rituals were dismissed as backwards.³³

As identities were threatened to be erased or rewritten, many communities like ones in India would tighten internal bonds to preserve culture, customs, and religion.³⁶ This type of collectivism was not only strong and adaptive, but also rooted in survival and necessity. Even through post-colonial nation-building, countries like Singapore would prioritise collectivist ideals, asserting traditional Asian values as being part of their national identity.³⁷

An Integrated Approach

With the overwhelming majority of voices in psychology based in western roots, we see the echoes of their history and values scattered across the blueprints: personal virtue, verbal expression, self-sufficiency, individuality, and personal freedom. But these are not the same sentiments that lineages of Asian societies have upheld: community, family, obedience, social order, and interdependence. These are fundamental differences that must not be overlooked.

Bringing an Asian lens to psychology caters to integration, nuance, and allows for the expansion of psychology and trauma work through narratives that are culturally informed and reflective. There is a need to make space for fuller, more layered understandings of the human mind. Our unique perspectives and values add depth to this powerful discipline.

Training our professionals to serve Asian communities based on Western models inherently perpetuates this crucial gap. We teach them frameworks that do not reflect their cultural roots, values, or realities.³⁸ This as the foundation for treatment can lead to misattunement, misinterpretation, and major gaps in clinical trust and effectiveness.

Existing western models have provided us a wealth of foundational knowledge and in-depth understanding — but it is time to do our part.

What was not documented by history was not erased out of malice, or because it was less advanced — it was just different. It's in these differences that lie insight. As we continue to explore this gap and dive into Asian narratives, we will start to notice how these differences begin to shift the way we think about trauma, healing, and the self altogether.

Author’s note: This article compresses a vast terrain of histories, philosophies, trauma theories, and cultural divergences into just 1,200 words. It is not a comprehensive account, but a curated glimpse. Care has been taken by the author to avoid overgeneralisation, reductionism, or determinism, and intentionality was forefront in how each idea was framed. That said, the complexity and depth this subject truly deserves go far beyond the bounds of a single piece of writing. Think of this not as a conclusion or summary, but as an opening gesture toward deeper, more layered conversations.