Years ago, Malekeh Jazmati was separated from her husband in Jordan as a result of the Syrian conflict. In 2015, a reunification program brought them back together in Germany. They overcame this extraordinary separation by doubling down on what brings them joy: food. 

A self-taught chef, Jazmati started cooking for her community and then more broadly. She gained global recognition in 2017 for preparing a traditional Syrian meal for the German Chancellor at the time, Angela Merkel. 

Since then, Jazmati has opened her own restaurant in Berlin with the mission of recreating the homemade dishes for fellow displaced Syrians to enjoy and feel as if they were, in her words, at their “mother’s dinner table.” 

Her success — and ability to thrive — reflects a way in which one woman picked up the threads of community she had before her life unraveled. 

Similarly, Svitlana Zaluzhna, a Ukrainian businesswoman from Odesa, fled to Lithuania in 2022 with her family of three children. Even while navigating her own displacement — without knowing how the war would unfold — she helped found Open Nations, a social enterprise supporting Ukrainian refugees to find a stronger community and a sense of belonging in Lithuanian society. 

These stories are not only inspiring. They are instructive. 

When we thrive, we are more equipped to navigate the challenges life throws our way.

As a public health scientist who studies how communities cope during crises, I have found that people who survive global conflicts, forced displacement, and economic and political instability have learned to cultivate resilience in meaningful ways — all the while withstanding intense and long-lasting impacts on their mental health and well-being.  

Drawing on their experiences may be particularly useful for Americans navigating a moment of profound uncertainty. As communities fracture, isolation deepens and our American experiment feels like it is on the brink of failure, I ask: How can we learn from other communities who have survived the same, and worse? 

What Resilience Means in Practice

Resilience is widely understood as the ability to overcome adversity or adapt well in the face of significant stress. However, there is no universal definition or a one-size-fits-all approach to resilience. The concept of resilience is shaped by people’s individual perceptions and broader culture, as well as by their family, friends and material resources. 

But the examples of Jazmati and Zaluzhna point to a common strategy many people have used amid political upheaval and extraordinary odds: They established new support networks to navigate the uncertainty of new systems and regain stability. 

Social scientists refer to this resource as social capital — the physical and emotional forms of strength that come from the people around you. As a resource for resilience, rich social capital cultivates better mental health for us and our loved ones. 

Thriving in the face of adversity often comes from investing in the well-being of our families, neighbors, and communities.

Social capital takes two forms. Bonding describes relationships built within a group or community, your family, neighbors, colleagues or congregation.  Bridging describes relationships built between various groups and communities — people whose lives and backgrounds differ from your own, especially in schools, places of worship, businesses and community centers.

The premise of this argument is that when we thrive, we are more equipped to navigate the challenges life throws our way. Resilience doesn’t solely rely on personal strength; rather, it is also about how we show up for each other. 

Bridging and Building Bonds

One effective way of cultivating resilience requires going beyond thinking of ourselves as individuals, even if we have experienced immense personal loss.

Instead, thriving in the face of adversity often comes from investing in the well-being of our families, neighbors, and communities — something individuals like Jazmati do despite the momentous challenges they face in their daily lives. 

Fostering a sense of collective responsibility involves taking simple, intentional actions that prioritize community and shared well-being. Cooking meals for friends and family is a start. We can also create more opportunities for taking care of each others’ children so we can all have a break; or help someone else make time to focus on vital work apart from domestic labor, including political organizing. 

Sharing resources will become only increasingly more vital if our safety nets truly disintegrate. It can also help us support one another in meaningful and sustainable ways.  

Counterintuitively, the times when we feel the most divided are the times it’s most critical to pick up the slack for those who are struggling and vulnerable. Displacement taught Jazmati and Zaluzhna this lesson by necessity. We would do well to learn it by choice.

Bridging Gaps in Communities 

Resilience also builds at the grassroots level. We can join or become part of citizen-based organizations, public health networks and social advocacy groups dedicated to causes we care about. These might be informal networks or neighborhood groups, such as book clubs or communal ways of pooling money or resources. They might also be formal networks that we build together.  

The people who have survived the worst remind us that even in conditions of profound loss, community can be rebuilt.

Zaluzhna’s ongoing work in Lithuania demonstrates how far an idea can take you. Her project has transformed from a project to support newly arrived refugees find employment and navigate Lithuanian society to a full-scale business focused on family development — equipping Ukrainian families with skills to navigate uncertainty. She has also used the lessons she learned in her new host country to support the development of Ukraine’s education sector, creating bridges between teachers, school principals and parents.

Faith communities deserve particular mention. About 80% of Americans create community within places of worship, where they find peace and space to connect. Faith communities have historically served as one of the most durable sites for social gathering, offering not only spiritual connection, but childcare, shared meals, health services and support networks. 

In a time of social thinning, faith communities are worth turning to more intentionally, or helping to build new opportunities for people who may have felt disenfranchised from these spaces.  

Why Don’t We Do This More?

The honest reason we don’t take steps to invest in our communities more is that addressing resilience is challenging. In addition, what defines resilience varies greatly across contexts. Trying to achieve resilience in contexts where systems aren’t prepared to support individuals to do so is a major barrier. Researchers call this entrapment: when the ability to fulfill personal and social aspirations is challenged by structural inequalities that stunt health and wellbeing.

Jazmati and Zaluzhna were able to achieve what they could because the landscape was receptive, at least at the time, to innovative solutions to bridge divides between newly arrived refugees and their host population. 

The question for Americans now is whether we will do that work, and ask for reform, before a crisis forces us to.

In the U.S., these types of solutions are being challenged from the top-down with funding cuts for civil society and causes that unite people like access to health care, climate change reform and education.

Another major barrier is time. Many Americans do not have the bandwidth to invest in community-building. In general, cultivating communities that center our collectivism can make living resiliently a bit more achievable. Over time, finding common ground can increase both our individual and collective adaptability in the face of ongoing crises.

Building Resilience Through Systemic Change

To be clear: Resilience cannot be placed on the shoulders of individuals. The research shows that systemic conditions shape who gets to thrive. 

Plenty of research suggests that systemic changes that bolster these grassroot efforts can accelerate resilience. 

Policy reforms that enable accessible mental health services, ensure economic stability through social safety nets, and guarantee access for all to quality education — especially those that teach young people coping skills — can all foster community resilience. 

Right now, many of those systems are under strain or under threat. That makes the grassroots work more urgent, not less. It also means we must remain honest about what individuals alone cannot be asked to carry.

Jazmati built a restaurant. Zaluzhna built an organization. Both were acts of extraordinary will. But they also happened in societies that offered them the space to do so, however imperfectly. 

Resilience, at its best, is both personal and structural. It is how we show up for each other — and how our institutions show up for us. The people who have survived the worst remind us that even in conditions of profound loss, community can be rebuilt. The question for Americans now is whether we will do that work, and ask for reform, before a crisis forces us to.